#that he could’ve been better for sam | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Premium Tumblr themes are available from anywhere between $9 to $49.

#that he could’ve been better for sam

samdeancrimespree · 1 month

Text

in that scene in 12.22 when dean watches mary in her heaven, and she crouches down and smiles at the memory of her child and lies to him, tells him she’ll never let anything bad happen to him, what was dean thinking about before he said i hate you. because i think he was looking at how tiny that dean was, and thinking that’s what he looked like when he spent the final days of his childhood becoming a mother to a baby he was barely twice the size of, when his one wish in the world had been to grow up faster so he could take better care of sam, when he used to spend every day promising sam the same thing, before sam could even understand him. when all he wanted was for his mommy to come back and tell him it would be ok. and he hated her. he hated himself too, so he looked for comfort, for sam. a memory so old and fuzzy in his mothers mind that he looked like a doll, not enough green in his eyes and no mole on his cheek, because she hadn’t bothered to look close at the real sam, the living sam. so much care and detail put into the messy waves on tiny dean’s head, and barely anything for sam. he hated her. but for the first time without having to climb up the rails, he looked down at baby sammy in a crib, the crib dean had barely outgrown when it burned, and realized: you weren’t big. i was just small.

#the agony of realizing he was also a baby.#also i think part of his anger was because she couldn’t even say that to sam #she could get away with saying it to dean #the lie wasn’t as direct #and dean knows that. it’s her fault that all of those things happened to sam #and part of him is still just angry that it couldn’t have happened a little later #that he could’ve had more time to get stronger before the fire #that he could’ve been better for sam #and that’s her fault too #not to make everything about parent dean but also. it kinda is #parent dean<3 #mary #hc #mars.txt #gencest #oldest daughter dean #the family business #samdean #spn studies

13 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 4 days

Text

Jawbreaker

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky put a mouthy rookie in his place. Word Count: Over 800 Warnings: Established relationship, mention of injury, misogyny, punching, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes defending you (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm dedicating this to @whisperlullaby , who got to read this in advance, because she deserves this man (along with the rest of you). ❤️Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A small part of Bucky felt bad as he idly wiped his hand with a towel. A very small part.

He didn’t want people to fear him because of his past and he refused to let it define him. That meant that he tried his best to avoid violent tactics unless absolutely necessary.

But today, well, fuck that. The fucker had it coming.

Steve stood in front of him, his blue eyes narrowed as he waited for his best friend to acknowledge him.

Oh, Bucky expected some sort of reprimand, but he was sure Steve would change his tune in a minute or so.

“You gonna ask me what happened, punk, or glare at me until I talk?” He asked, tossing the towel away.

The blonde huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t look amused. “Why did you break that rookie’s jaw?”

Bucky tilted his head. “What’s the phrase? He fucked around and found out.”

You would’ve been proud of him for that reference.

Steve shook his head when Sam burst out laughing a few feet away. “Sam, please,” he begged, though his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “What did the guy do?”

A bitter taste flooded Bucky’s mouth as anger coursed through his veins again. He inhaled as he thought of your sweet smile and soft touch before he exhaled, the storm inside of him calming.

“Buck, you gotta tell us something,” Steve urged, needing some sort of information to try and do some damage control.

The brunette straightened up to look his friend in the eyes, wanting him to see the fury beneath the cold mask. “He told my girl to throw an apron on and get back in the kitchen when she went to spar.”

You, one of the most capable agents Bucky had ever known.

You, who had shown nothing but kindness to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it.

The person Bucky was lucky enough to call his other half. His better half.

And some asshole rookie had the gall to treat you as if you didn’t belong there with the rest of them.

Sam was no longer laughing. Steve’s jaw clenched in understanding.

Bucky swallowed, that fury threatening to surface again as he remembered the hurt that filled your eyes at the comment. “You know I’d support anything she wants to do, whether that’s working or staying at home. It doesn’t give some prick the right to make her feel bad for her decision.”

“You know I don’t like bullies, but breaking his jaw?” Steve questioned. The guy deserved it, but did the punishment actually fit the crime?

“When she walked away, he said to come back when she was ready to see what a real man could do for her,” he said, the words coming out like a snarl.

The way you tensed up, fear and disgust flickering on your face, he didn’t think. A switch inside of him went off and he swung.

The fucker was lucky that all he got was a broken jaw. He could’ve done so much worse.

And it wasn’t that you couldn’t defend yourself because you could, but you shouldn’t have to put up with garbage like that.

A cracking sound echoed in the room before he realized he crushed the armrest of his seat. “Fuck. I’ll pay for that,” he mumbled, kicking a bit of the broken piece with his boot. “Can you just tell me how much trouble I’m in so I can get back to my girl?”

He didn’t care if he they suspended or even fired him as long as he got back to you.

The room stayed silent before Sam mused, “Technically, what the rookie did counts as harassment.”

Steve nodded. “And I’m sure Nat can persuade him not to sue for the injury he received,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take care of it, Buck. Just. No more breaking jaws, okay?”

“When it comes to my girl, I make no promises,” Bucky smiled, his heart racing at the thought of you. “And maybe he’ll think twice before he opens his mouth again.”

“The damage you did, I don’t think he can open his mouth at all,” Sam mumbled.

Bucky’s phone went off before he could comment, his heart swelling as he read your text. He had to bite back a groan, too.

“Thank you again, Jawbreaker. I love you and I’ll be on my knees waiting for you.”

You wanted to thank him not just with words, but with your body and heart. It all belonged to him, like he belonged to you.

And he didn’t need to tell Steve and Sam what the message said since it was just for the two of you. “Love you, too, baby. Nothing to thank me for, but I’m on my way. Be ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Maybe we'll see how you "thank" Bucky down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

1K notes · View notes

ellemj · 5 months

Text

Right Here: 12 Days of Smut #6

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Summary: The team decides to interrupt your spicy moment with Bucky. The two of you have to sit through a debate about Christmas movies while being as discrete as possible about what's going on beneath the blanket that's covering both of your laps.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, sex in a common area, dirty talk, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 1.8k (it's a lil one)

A/N: I let @littlemiss-yeehaw read this first and her biggest concern was that I originally spelled Santa Clause without an 'e' on the end and she wasn't having it. But special thanks to her for catching my embarrassing mistakes and keeping me from having a big head.

It’s so damn big. It’s so big that you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to sit still and stay quiet enough to make it through the next fifteen minutes until everyone has gone their separate ways for bed. It’s so big that even just taking a deep breath is too much movement for your body to handle. It is so fucking big that Bucky doesn’t know how you’re taking it so well. He knows his size is pushing you right to the edge of your limits, he knows you’re probably feeling more pain than pleasure in this moment, and honestly, all of that only makes him want to hold you here longer.

Bucky probably doesn’t even know that there’s a word for what you’re doing right now. You know he’s still a decent bit behind the times when it comes to modern-day dating and sexual education, so there’s no way he would have the vocabulary to accurately describe what this is. It’s cockwarming. If he knew the word for it, he’d add it to his list of favorite things. He might even go as far as writing it down in that little notebook he got from Steve. It’s the best thing he’s experienced since the first time he slept with you.

“Come on, nothing beats the original Santa Clause movies with Tim Allen. You can’t tell me that you really think Home Alone is better.” Sam says while giving Wanda a look of disbelief. The group has been arguing back and forth about Christmas movies for the last five minutes. You and Bucky had been watching, or more accurately listening to whatever festive flick was suggested first when you’d originally settled in for a movie by yourself. It wasn’t long before Bucky finished up in the gym, showered, and found you looking all irresistible on the couch. You were curled up under your little fleece blanket with a mug of hot cocoa in one hand and the other hand running through your hair. You barely even noticed Bucky when he joined you on the couch, completely invested in the most mediocre movie you could’ve chosen. That’s when he started running a hand up your thigh, innocently at first. He let his fingertips grace your skin so lightly, gliding back and forth from your knee up to the hem of your little pajama shorts. He liked the way you tried to pretend that it didn’t give you goosebumps or make your panties a little wetter than before. He knew that he had you right where he wanted you when he let his pinky finger brush over the fabric of your panties, just underneath your shorts, and you didn’t make a single move to stop him. In fact, you actually spread your legs a little more for him, giving him a silent go-ahead. Somehow, all of that built up and led to where you are now, firmly seated on his lap with your shorts and panties pulled to the side, silently sitting with Bucky’s entire length buried deep inside of you.

The Christmas movie argument drones on around you with no sign of dying off as you fight to breathe as slow and even as you can. Bucky’s impressive girth has always been an adjustment for you, no matter how many times you’ve fucked. He always has to give you a minute or two to get used to his size before pushing himself all the way in, but there wasn’t any time for that tonight. He had been watching the tip of his cock disappear inside of you when you both heard the commotion in the hallway, warning you that you were about to be interrupted by the rest of the team. Your first instinct was to get off of him and take your seat beside him on the couch but Bucky just couldn’t let that happen, so he gripped your hips even tighter and pulled you all the way down onto his lap. You let a whimper escape your lips at the stinging pain you felt increasing with every inch that penetrated your tight little entrance, but quickly silenced yourself and sat still as Bucky arranged the throw blanket just right to cover both of you from prying eyes.

“You’re so fucking tight. If you don’t relax, you’re going to make me cum in front of everyone.” Bucky grunts in your ear, his words so hushed and whispered that no one could have possibly heard him except for you. You take a deep breath, trying your best to relax around him. You focus in on Wanda’s speech about why Home Alone is the superior Christmas movie, but your focus is quickly broken when you feel Bucky’s right hand slip under the blanket and slide along the outside of your thigh. You want to tell him to keep his hands to himself, to calm the fuck down until you can get away from everyone and have a little privacy, but there’s no way for you to do that without revealing your current situation to everyone. So, you sit there, gently biting on your bottom lip as Bucky’s fingers reach your clit and begin rubbing agonizingly slow circles. After a few seconds of stimulation, you can feel the stinging pain of Bucky’s cock stretching your walls residing.

“That’s it, you’re getting used to it, aren’t you?” Bucky whispers, referring to the size of his cock. You let out a sigh but don’t even offer him a nod in response, too scared that someone will start to suspect something’s going on underneath the thin blanket. “My cock isn’t too big for you, huh baby?” Fuck. He knows it’s too big for you, but he also knows how determined you always are to get used to it and take it all just for him. You’ve always been ambitious. Bucky speeds up his actions on your clit, and you’re just starting to feel that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach when he spreads his index and middle fingers apart and slides them further in between your legs. It’s a new sensation for both of you as you feel his fingers slip between your folds and go around either side of where his dick is currently buried inside you. You feel Bucky shudder beneath you at how wet you are for him. He so wishes he could try adding a finger in alongside his dick, but he knows it would be too much for you, especially when you’re supposed to be staying quiet. He’ll save it for the next time he has you all to himself.

You’re sick of the Christmas movie talk. You’re sick of not being able to ride Bucky’s cock until you’re a mutual mess of sweat and cum. You’re sick of sitting here so still and stoic. So, just as you think the Christmas movie talk might be nearing a close, you stretch your arms up above your head and let out an audible yawn. That small movement alone causes Bucky to move his hands to your hips abruptly, gripping you tightly as a warning for you to stop moving. You smile and pretend it’s a smile at whatever the hell Sam is saying about Santa Clause. Testing the waters, you circle your hips once, as discretely as possible. You grind down on Bucky’s cock, letting your clit press against his balls, sending a nice little rush of pleasure throughout your body.

Shit. Bucky needs everyone gone. He needs you alone right fucking now. He needs the chance to flip you over so you’re face down and ass up on the couch, giving him the perfect angle and opportunity to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to remember what holiday you’re celebrating tomorrow. Bucky holds your hips so tightly that he knows your perfect smooth skin will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he couldn’t care less. He keeps you still on his cock until Wanda and Vision finally stand up and bid their goodnights, heading off to bed. That leaves the two of you, Sam, and Torres. The two men remain in the living area for another two minutes until Bucky’s cold stare and your oddly out-of-character lack of conversational skills drives them both back to their separate rooms.

As soon as Bucky hears the final bedroom door shut in the distance, he’s lifting you off of his cock and tossing you onto the couch.

“Bucky, not here.” You laugh lightly at his impatience.

“Oh, we’re doing this right here. Don’t move.” Just to make sure you won’t move, Bucky places his vibranium hand over your middle back and pushes you down until you’re in the exactly position he wanted you in, before pulling your shorts and panties to the side once more with his right hand and slotting the head of his cock into your entrance. He doesn’t give you the usual amount of time to adjust, since you just sat on his entire length for so long. Instead, he slams into you and then watches as you quickly clamp a hand over your mouth. He doesn’t care how loud your bodies sound as they collide over and over again with each thrust. He doesn’t give the slightest shit that anyone could walk in right now. All Bucky cares about is feeling you come undone all over his cock.

He fucks you with every bit of pent-up frustration he’s withheld for the last fifteen minutes, dragging his cock out of you before pushing it back in repeatedly. You know he’s close when his vibranium hand leaves your back and he uses both hands to grip your hips and pull you back to meet every thrust. With your hand clamped over your mouth still, you fail to warn Bucky that you’re right on the edge of an orgasm, but you don’t even have to. He can feel the way your walls are clenching around his shaft and the way your legs are fighting to spread even more so he can reach impossibly deeper inside you. You want more, you need more.

Bucky snakes his flesh hand between your legs and begins giving your clit the stimulation that it needs to force an orgasm out of you. He fucking hates when you hold it back. As your orgasm rips through your body, causing your legs to tremble and pussy to tighten around his cock even more, Bucky continues to fuck into you until he can’t contain himself. He copies your annoying little move, refusing to tell you that he’s close. You figure it out yourself when you hear a deep groan rumble past his lips and feel him thrust one final time, making sure he’s balls-deep before filling you with his cum. He ends the night with one simple question, as he pulls his length out of you and situates your panties and pajama shorts back where they belong.

“So, do you have a favorite Christmas movie?”

TAG LIST:

@charmedbysarge @gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @claireelizabeth85 @fandomsfeminismandme @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @twlkdead

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes fic #12 days of smut

2K notes · View notes

nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 2 months

Text

Can You Feel My Heart - GF!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This was a request I got over a month ago, and the person that asked for it was very detailed in the things they wanted, and I didn't want to give away the entire fic before anyone read it lmao. If you're the one that requested it, I hope you like it! It's definitely a bigger one, 5.9k words🙃

I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You were supposed to die in Tara and Sam's apartment, but you never showed. When he tries to finish the job, he realizes that he can't hurt you, and you help him decided to save the rest of your friends.

Contains: Dryhumping? Oral - m & f receiving, p in v, fingering. Nothing too crazy, Ethan's an inexperienced virgin for the most part in this.

A/N: Deadass want to write something where reader makes Ethan cum in his pants💀

Ethan knew he couldn’t do what his family asked when it came to hurting you, but after hours of Quinn telling Ethan that you’d never want him, and that you would never see him as anything more than a pathetic loser, he’d channeled enough rage towards you to hopefully do the job he was asked to do.

When he popped out of Quinn’s closet that night and killed her flavor of the week, the adrenaline was already pumping through his veins. When he went out to the main area of the apartment, he searched for you. He thought back to the text you sent him about being bummed that he had econ and couldn’t join you and the rest of the friend group, so he knew this was where you were supposed to be. He didn’t let you not being there throw everything off, it just meant Anika had to die before it was originally planned.

He met with his dad before he had to show up at the crime scene and play the roll of the grieving father to explain how everything actually played out.

“She wasn’t there?!” Wayne yelled, as Ethan nodded, his breathing still heavy from all the running to get away from the apartment before anyone had a chance to see him. “Fuck, I thought you had this all planned out!”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, “She was supposed to be there. I guess she changed her mind.”

“You’re going to finish the job though, right?” Wayne asked, knowing how much convincing it took to get Ethan to want to kill you in the first place.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it. I know tomorrow’s supposed to be the end of all this, but I have her schedule memorized. I’ll just break into her apartment before she get’s home from class, kill her, and I’ll meet you at the theater,” he said, as Wayne nodded in approval.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

The next day, you went to class. You’d heard about another attack but had no idea it was Anika and Quinn. With you backing out of coming over to Tara and Sam’s last minute before the attacks happened, your friends couldn’t help but wonder if you could’ve been the one that caused her death. You were the last person they’d suspect, but they thought it was a little strange.

Finally, Tara called you when you were walking back home after your morning classes.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t come over last night. I was so tired,” you said, as soon as you answered the phone.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Tara said. You immediately heard the sadness in her voice.

“Wait, what happened?” you asked, before you heard Mindy yelling at Tara for calling you in the background. “Tara, what’s going on?”

“The killer came to the apartment last night…Quinn and Anika are dead,” she said, as you were walking through your front door.

“Oh my god,” you said, bracing yourself against the doorway as you took in the news she just told you. “Is Mindy okay?” you asked as you started to get emotional. You weren’t the closest to Anika yet, but you were getting there. You loved her sweet yet sarcastic personality, and you’d recently started to get to know her better from the study sessions with her and Ethan.

“No, not really,” Tara sighed, “Were you really home last night? I hate to ask you because I don’t think you’d do anything like this…but you saying you weren’t coming over last minute was a little suspicious.”

You were taken aback by her accusations, and were about to respond, when you heard the beeping that someone else was calling you. You felt annoyed as you saw the unknown number, quickly declining it before you responded to Tara.

“Tara, I promise you I was at home. I was so tired after class yesterday,” you got out, before you started to get another unknown number call, “Fuck, someone keeps calling me. I’ll text you in a little bit. We’ll figure out who’s doing this.”

“Okay, be safe,” she said, before you ended the call and answered whoever kept calling you.

“Hello?” you asked, the irritation in your voice obvious as you heard a chuckle on the other end of the call.

“I thought you were just going to keep ignoring me.”

You immediately recognized the voice. You’d heard it several times before in the Stab movies, and started to think this was some kind of sick prank.

“Who is this?” you asked, walking towards your kitchen, “Because this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, you sweet, dumb thing,” the person responded, a hint of laughter still in their voice. “I think this is hilarious. You’re all alone in your apartment, no one to save you…”

You tensed up as you glanced around the areas of your apartment that you could see from the kitchen, before inching your way towards the drawer that contained the knives.

“Don’t even think about it,” the voice said, the realization that whoever this was could see you in that moment setting in.

“Who the fuck is this?” you asked, your voice a little shaky as your anxiety kicked in.

“Aww, are you scared?” the voice cooed, “Because you should be.”

That’s when you saw the masked figure darting towards you from your bedroom. You tried to make a run for the front door, but Ghostface was hot on your heels. The knife was shoved in your direction in attempts to slow you down, but the knife penetrated the wood of your door. The killer struggled for a few seconds as they tried to get the knife out, giving you the smallest amount of time to get away from them.

You ran to your living room, searching for anything you could use to help you defend yourself, when you noticed that Ghostface had joined you in the room, holding the knife up as they stared at you.

“Why are you doing this?” you cried. Seeing you like this had Ethan feeling so guilty, but Quinn’s words kept replaying in his head. He didn’t say anything as he charged towards you again. You tried to fight him off, but you were quickly overpowered by him.

He threw you to the ground before he straddled your body. You kept trying to fight, refusing to just give up, even though this person was a lot stronger than you. Both of Ghostface’s hands were wrapped around his knife as they held it over their head, your life literally flashing before your eyes as you waited for it all to be over.

Ethan hesitated, though. The fear in your eyes, your tear-soaked cheeks, and the sobs slipping past your lips were something he knew would haunt him if he went through with this.

“I’m so sorry,” you heard, recognizing the voice as the knife was lowered and clanked on the floor beside you. “I can’t do this to you.”

“Ethan?!” you choked out, gaining enough strength to shove him off you. You used your hands and feet to back yourself closer to the wall, pulling yourself up by the windowsill as he sat on the floor. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t know,” he cried, pulling the mask over his head and throwing it in frustration. “I can’t do anything right.”

You eyed him as you stood against the wall, watching him cry. You were so shaken up and furious, but you couldn’t help but wonder how Ethan ended up in this position. He was this shy, sweet person that you enjoyed spending time with, and maybe it was your personal feelings towards him, but you felt bad for him.

You walked over to where the knife was, kicking it to the other side of the room under your tv stand. If he had a change of heart and decided he wanted to kill you, you knew him trying to fish that out would give you enough time to escape.

“What the fuck, Ethan?” you sighed, standing beside him as he still sat in his place on the floor. “Why?”

He just kept crying, so ashamed of himself that he got roped into his dad’s plan in the first place. He felt sick, and not just mentally. He was fighting his nausea as you finally crouched down beside him.

“Talk to me,” you said, as he finally looked up at you. He looked scared, his pupils huge as his chin quivered.

“My family is behind all this,” he said, jumping up off the floor as you hesitantly stood up. “Fuck, they’re gonna kill me.”

You started to get nervous all over again as he paced the floor. His hands were shaking, and you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or anger, but you stepped as far away from him as you could.

“I don’t even understand why you were a part of this in the first place. You didn’t have anything to do with Richie dying,” he ranted, before pausing for a second, “Are you close to your parents?”

You just stared at him, unsure of what to say. This wasn’t the Ethan you knew, and his erratic behavior had a huge lump in your throat.

“I bet your parents love you. I bet they’d never treat you the way my dad treats me,” he said, after you didn’t answer him. “I bet they never make you feel like you’re worthless.”

“You’re not worthless,” you said softly, his head snapping in your direction. You hesitated before speaking again. “Your family is doing this because of Richie? How is he a part of this?”

Ethan stepped towards you, as you backed even further against the wall. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You shook your head as you looked at him, “You just tried to kill me, Ethan…I’m terrified of you right now.”

“Fuck,” he said, tearing up again. “Richie was my brother. I know you heard the story about Sam stabbing him and slitting his throat,” Ethan paused, you nodded for him to continue, “My dad and sister wanted revenge. I didn’t want to do any of this.”

“Then why did you?” you questioned, as he wiped tears from his cheeks.

“Because my dad told me that it would finally make him proud of me for something…and he said he’d just kill me too if I didn’t help with all this.”

You started to relax against the wall a little as you processed everything. This wasn’t about him wanting to hurt you or anyone else, he just wanted to be loved by the one person that should’ve loved him regardless. He was broken, and even though the voice inside your head kept screaming that you were stupid for wanting to comfort him, your huge heart was breaking for him.

“Ethan,” you said, slowly stepping towards him, “Everything will be okay.”

“No it won’t!” he yelled, making you jump, “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, noticing that he’d scared you again. He started to speak in a softer tone, “My dad is a fucking detective…even if I try to run away from all of this, he’d just find me.”

You stood there in silence for a few seconds as the realization hit you, “Detective Bailey?” you asked, as he nodded.

“Quinn is a part of this, too. She’s my sister.”

“Ethan…Quinn died last night. This isn’t making sense,” you said, as he scoffed.

“She’s not dead…I wish she was, though. I fucking hate her.”

You both stood in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds heard in the room was his heavy breathing and the occasional sob he’d let out…and the pounding in your chest but you were sure only you could hear that.

“I know you probably hate me right now, and I’m so sorry that I scared you like that. You didn’t deserve it,” he finally said, his eyes connecting with yours. “I’d rather my own life be over than take yours.”

“Your life isn’t over,” you said, as he started to awkwardly laugh.

“It is, though. I still helped with this. I’m going to spend the rest of my life in prison.”

“Not if you stop all this. You can still do the right thing,” you said, his eyes growing wide at your suggestion. “I’m the only person that knows…I won’t say anything.”

He looked at you in disbelief, unsure if you were serious or if you just had a really good poker face.

“I do have another question, though,” you said, walking closer towards him, until he was right in front of you. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

You wanted to pull him into a hug. You wanted him to feel like he was cared about. But you really needed to know why he changed his mind last minute before you did anything.

“I uhm…” he said, trailing off as he tried to find the right words to say, “I really like you, You’re just so sweet, and you’re always showing interest in the things I like, even if you don’t understand it. Quinn tried to make me hate you enough to do it, but I couldn’t.”

“So…Quinn tried to convince you to kill me?” you asked, a little confused. You’d spent plenty of time with her at Sam and Tara’s. You now knew that her kindness towards you was all an act, but you didn’t understand why she thought you needed to die.

“Yeah, she knew how I felt about you,” he said, glancing at the floor as his cheeks started to turn a rosy pink. “She said you’d never want to be with me. That doesn’t matter, though. That wasn’t a good enough reason for me to finish the job.”

“Is that all I am to you? A job?” you half-joked, as he started to smile, looking back up at you.

“Not at all.”

You both just stared at each other as he started to calm down. His eyes were red from all the crying, the guilt for even trying to hurt you painted on his face, but you still grabbed his hands and pulled him close to you.

“It’s going to be okay, Ethan. I’ll help you get through this,” you said, as your hands comfortingly ran over his back. He relaxed into your touch, but he was still a little shocked that you didn’t hate him at that moment.

“Are you okay?” he softly asked, “I know I slammed you on the floor pretty hard.”

“I’m still pissed at you, but I’m okay,” you said, as you started to pull away. He held onto you tighter, not wanting to let you go just yet. “Ethan,” you said sternly, “We need to talk about something else.”

“Sorry…you have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had affection like this,” he mumbled against you, before pulling away. “I’m really fucked up, aren’t I?”

“I might be a little fucked up, too. I want to make you feel better after you tried to kill me,” you said, as he shook his head.

“You’re not fucked up, you’re perfect.”

You grabbed his gloved hand and led him over to the couch. He realized that he was still wearing the robe and pulled it off, tossing it on the floor before he sat down beside you. Your eyes connected with his as you slid the gloves off his hands and threw them on top of the robe.

“I know your family has their plans, but we need to save the rest of our friends,” you said, his heart pounding when you said the word ‘we’.

“No, you can’t help. I can’t let anything happen to you. I’ll take care of it,” he said, as your hands still held onto his. He looked down at them, before looking back up at you. “You mean a lot to me, even if you don’t feel the same way I do.”

You smirked at him as your thumbs rubbed against the top of his hands, “I never said I didn’t feel the same way you do.”

The tension was building up as you just looked at each other. He wasn’t the most experienced, and you knew that, so you decided to make the first move. You leaned in and gently kissed him before you pulled away. He had a sweet smile on his lips, his cheeks pink, but he wanted more.

He gained a little confidence, leaning forward to kiss you. It wasn’t a simple peck like yours was, as his lips needily moved against yours. Your head was spinning as he pushed you back on the couch, his body hovering over yours as you ran your tongue across his bottom lip. He gasped at the feeling, giving you the opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth. He didn’t know what to do at first, but soon enough, his tongue was moving with yours.

After a few minutes, he pulled away so you could both catch your breath. He was panting on top of you, a small gasp slipping out of your mouth as he adjusted his hips to get more comfortable in his place between your legs.

You started to get a little lost in thought, wondering if you were crazy. You didn’t expect to be making out with Ethan after he held a knife over you and scared you more than you’d ever been, but it just felt right.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down to kiss you. The grip you had on his shirt relaxed, your fingertips gently running down his chest. He started to tense up a little when your hands reached his stomach, a small groan slipping into your mouth at the feeling. He didn’t pull away from you, the kiss only getting more intense as he started to grind against you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled against him, before nudging him back. “My bed is a lot more comfortable…just saying.”

“Okay,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

After both of you stood up, you could see how hard he was in his jeans. He subtly tried to cover it with his free hand, his other hand laced with yours as you led him to your room.

It got a lot harder for him to hide it once you pushed him back on your bed. You glanced at it before you straddled him, his cheeks turning pink, yet again.

“You keep blushing,” you said, as you started to roll your hips. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he spat out, so quickly that you started to giggle. “Please don’t stop.”

Your hips kept moving as he placed his hands on them, pulling you closer to him. You gasped at the friction it was giving your clit, your panties getting more soaked by the second. He was starting to groan, his mouth falling open as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Okay, we need to stop,” he said, his breathing heavy as his eyes snapped open. “You’re going to make me cum in my pants.”

“Would you rather cum in my mouth?” you asked, your eyes looking deep into his. He didn’t know what to say, because he was so embarrassed that just you grinding against him was enough to almost bring him over the edge. He knew the second you put him in your mouth, he’d cum on the spot. You could tell he was nervous, his hands feeling a little shaky as he held onto you. “It’s okay, baby. We can stop.”

“No, I want to…I just don’t want you to be disappointed,” he sighed, turning his eyes away from your gaze. “Whatever we do, I know I won’t last long.”

“Ethan, I know you’re a virgin. I don’t expect you to last long.” He started to get flustered, hating the fact that his inexperience was so obvious. “It’s okay. If you want me to make you feel good, I will.”

“Shit,” he mumbled, “Okay, we can do it.”

You smirked as you slid off him and started to unbutton his jeans. He lifted his hips as you slid them down a little, the wet spot on his boxers from his precum making your mouth water even more than it already was. He sharply inhaled the second you grabbed his cock out of his boxers, his hips jolting forward at the simple action.

“Relax, baby,” you said softly as you leaned down to take him in your mouth.

You were trying to tease him a little, just swirling your tongue against his tip, when his hips jerked forward again. His cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he whined, his chest heaving at the feeling, “I didn’t mean to do that.”

You just kept gagging around him, intentionally making your mouth more wet for him before you started to bob your head. His hands tightly gripped your comforter as you sucked, the feeling better than he could’ve ever imagined. He was trying so hard to hold back, but you made it impossible for him. His groans turned to whimpers as you started to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You knew he was close when he started to babble, only recognizing the words ‘Perfect’ and ‘So good’.

His hips started to rut forward again, his legs shaking as one of his hands went to your hair. He tightly gripped it as the feeling washed over him, his salty cum filling your mouth. After his hips stopped thrusting, you swallowed and slid him out of your mouth.

You sat there for a minute after you pulled away, watching him fully come back down from his high. He felt your gaze on him as he slowly opened his eyes and smiled at you.

“That was…fuck,” he sighed, pulling you closer to him. “Can we do that again sometime?”

“I hope so,” you said, as you started to think about what Ethan had to do. “When is everything else supposed to happen, like with the Ghostface stuff?”

You sat up a little to look at him as you waited for his answer. “Shit, if I’m going to stop it, I need to get to the theater,” he sighed, pulling his boxers and jeans back over his hips. “Can we finish this later?”

“Of course,” you said, fully sitting up on your bed. “I want to come with you.”

“No, I’m not losing the girl I’m in love with,” he said, jumping off the bed and landing on his feet. He paused when he realized what he said. “I guess you know how I really feel in case I don’t make it out of this alive.”

“I’m not staying here and worrying about you all night,” you said, sliding off your bed. “Do you know the theater well?”

“Yeah, but you’re not coming!” He was starting to get irritated, but he knew with your persistence that you were coming with him whether he liked it or not. “You could get killed, babe. I can’t keep you safe and take down dad and Quinn at the same time.”

“If they already think I’m dead, don’t you think that would be helpful?” you asked, “I’ll get our friends out before anything happens to them.”

“Fuck, okay. But we need to leave right now.”

You were hoping you could catch your friends before they made it inside the theater, but you peaked around the side of the building as soon as they were going in.

“There’s a back way, just let me scope it out for Quinn first,” he said, as the two of you walked around the old theater. He slid the robe back on and covered his face with the mask before he turned to look at you. “Wait here,” he said, before he opened the door and walked inside.

You were outside for a while before you heard screaming and Ethan’s voice booming on the other side of the door. You didn’t know what was going on, you even started to think that he’d decided to go through with the original plan, after all. You screamed once the masked figure walked out, the bloody knife in their hand.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s me,” he said, reaching for your hand. You hesitantly took his hand in yours as he led you inside, noticing a huge pool of blood on the floor.

“Is that…Quinn?” you asked, noticing the body hunched over in the corner.

“Yeah, we don’t have much time. Dad will be here soon,” he said, leading you down the hallway towards the museum-like display.

You bumped into Chad and Tara when you came around a corner. They both froze when they saw you, your hand still in Ethan’s.

“It was you?” Tara asked, as your eyes went wide, realizing how this all looked.

“No, but we need to get you guys the fuck out of here,” you said, motioning for Tara to come with you. They both stood in their spot as Chad glanced around, looking for something Tara could defend herself with as he tried to take down the masked person. “I’m fucking serious! We have to go!”

“Please just listen to her,” Ethan said, as Chad and Tara looked at each other. “I know how this looks, but you need to go with her. I’ll get Sam and Kirby out next.”

“Why should we trust you?” Chad asked, as Ethan lifted the mask off.

“I’m trying to do the right thing…and it’ll all be for nothing if you don’t go with her. Please, my dad’s on his way,” he sighed, as Chad hesitantly nodded.

“We can both take her if this is bullshit,” Chad whispered to Tara as she nodded. “You’re going to get Sam and Kirby?” he asked, as Ethan nodded. “Fuck, let’s go.”

You led them down the hall as Ethan made his way into the theater to search for the other two. Once you got closer to where Quinn was, you warned them.

“Try not to freak out, but there’s a body around the corner,” you said, noticing the blood spreading across the hall.

“What the fuck is going on?” Chad finally asked, “Whoa, who is that?”

You turned to face them, the confusion on their faces obvious when they noticed the red hair.

“That’s Quinn, she never died. Detective Bailey is in on this,” you said, before trying to think of the best way to explain Ethan without telling them his involvement. “Ethan is Quinn’s brother. He figured all this out today, and he wanted to stop it.”

“Oh,” was all Tara said, as you led them out the back door.

The three of you waited outside for a while. Tara was starting to freak out, the concern for her sister’s safety made her want to go back inside.

“Where the fuck are they?” Chad asked, as he heard Sam start to yell for Tara from the front entrance.

You ran around to the front of the building, panic setting in when you saw Sam and Kirby, but no Ethan.

“What happened?” you asked, peaking around them, hoping to see him walk out behind them.

“We didn’t believe Ethan at first…until he started to fight Detective Bailey,” Sam said, noticing the sadness in your eyes as your thoughts ran wild. “He’s okay, he’s in the ambulance over there.”

“Oh my god,” you said, running over to him. He smiled at you as you crawled into the back, your anxiety fading once you saw he was okay. “I forgot to tell you something earlier,” you said, sitting down beside him. You leaned in to kiss him, mumbling “I love you, too,” against his lips before you pulled away.

You were soon joined in the back by a paramedic, who was looking over a huge gash on Ethan’s arm that you didn’t see before, the blood unnoticeable with the black robe he was still wearing.

“Oh shit,” you said, looking at it. “How hurt are you?”

“This is it,” he said with a smile, before wincing at the numbing medication being injected into his arm. “That burns.”

You were shocked after he was all stitched up and one of the new detectives on the case said he was good to go, but that he’d just need to come down to the police station the next day. Ethan looked over to you, silently thanking you for keeping your word and not ratting him out. You knew he was wrong for doing what he did to Anika, but it was so easy for it to be pinned on his dead dad.

“Thank you, Ethan,” Sam said, as he hopped out of the back of the ambulance. “We’re going back to our apartment. You guys want to come?”

You and Ethan exchanged your glances as he took your hand in his.

“No, I think we’re going to…uh, hang out?” he said, like it was a question. It made you giggle as Chad curiously eyed him. He stopped Ethan before the two of you walked away, discreetly pulling a condom out of his wallet.

“Just in case you need it,” he said, as Ethan nodded and slid it into the front pocket of his jeans.

“Thanks, dude.”

Once you made it back to your apartment, you couldn’t figure out if you were with the same nervous Ethan from earlier in the day. He had you out of your clothes in minutes, your bare back against the plush comforter as he trailed kisses down your stomach. His hands were inching up your thighs as he pushed them apart.

He moved lower, groaning at the sight of your soaked pussy before he started to place gently kitten licks to your clit. You started to moan as his tongue moved faster, your hand tangling in his curls to encourage him, as if your moaning wasn’t already doing that enough. Once he moved his tongue a little lower and swirled it inside of you, your hips involuntarily jolted, much like his did earlier in the day. When your hips kept moving, he pinned them down with his free hand as he kept lapping at the wetness dripping out of you.

“Shit, Ethan,” you moaned, which only made him go faster.

His mouth worked you closer to the edge when he pulled away. You whined at the loss of contact, knowing how close you were getting to your orgasm. He wasn’t going to let it slip away, instead using his fingers and curving them inside you.

“Right there,” you whimpered once he brushed his fingers over the spongy spot inside of you.

His fingers firmly pressed as they moved, his tongue moving back up to lick fat stripes across your swollen clit. The orgasm you were so close to having was quickly approaching again, your hips still trying to buck against him as he struggled to hold them down. Your vision was getting hazier by the second, your whimpers getting louder as your legs started to shake.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you whined, as your pussy started contracting around his fingers.

He pulled his mouth away from your clit to have a better view of your face as his fingers slowed inside of you. You were a panting mess as you came back down, your eyes hooded as your hands reached for him.

“Don’t take this wrong because that was amazing, but that wasn’t what I expected,” you said, your breathing still labored as he snuggled up beside you. “I didn’t really have to tell you what to do at all.”

He started to laugh to himself as his hand reached over to run along your naked body, “I guess it just came to me. I knew moaning meant I was doing something right.”

“You did everything right, fuck,” you sighed, feeling his hand run over one of your breasts, gently pinching your nipple between his fingers. “No pressure, but if you want to have sex, we can.”

“Seriously?” he asked, sitting up a little to look at you.

“Yeah, I know you already have a condom,” you said, running your hand over the pocket of his jeans. “Chad should really be a little less obvious.”

“He just wanted me to be prepared,” he sighed, sliding the condom out of his pocket.

He crawled off the bed to take his jeans off. You started to giggle as he climbed back up, the tent in his boxers obvious as he sat on his knees and looked at you.

“Those have to come off, too,” you said, as he started to blush. His hesitance made you roll your eyes as you sat up and leaned over, shimmying his boxers down his hips. “You have nothing to be self-conscious about,” you said, as his cock stood at attention right in front of your face.

You grabbed the condom off the bed beside you and opened it. He intently watched you as you rolled it on his length, the feeling making his breath hitch in his throat.

“Please don’t hate me if this doesn’t last long,” he said, as he got settled between your legs.

“No pressure,” you assured him, as he started to push inside of you, stretching your walls.

He took it slow, at first. His hands teasingly roamed the areas of your body he could reach, the tickling feeling only building your anticipation up even more. Once he got through the initial fear of cumming too quickly, he started to move a little faster. His bottom lip was in between his teeth as he looked down at you, your tits jiggling with each thrust. He held on to one of them as his other hand went to your hip, holding you in place as his thrusts sped up.

He started to groan as he fucked into you, his cheeks red as his mouth hung open. You could tell he was trying to hold back, his mind somewhere else as he tried to distract himself. You moved one of your hands to your clit, rubbing quick circles as your other hand grabbed onto his arm.

“Baby,” you moaned out, as he started to focus on you again. “Go a little faster, I’m close.”

“Shit,” he groaned, snapping his hips into yours. You started to move your hips to meet his thrusts, the feeling of the tip of your cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot had you teetering on the edge.

You let out a loud moan as the euphoric feeling washed over you, your skin tingling as your pussy clenched him. His eyes started to flutter as his thrusts started to falter, a whimper slipping past his lips as he started to fill the tip of the condom. He stilled inside of you as you just kept tightening around him, his head hanging as he caught his breath.

“God, babe,” he said, sliding out of you. “I just want to stay inside you all the time.”

You giggled at him as he laid down beside you. “Is it that good?”

“You have no fucking idea.”

You were starting to get some post-nut clarity as you laid your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. He’d killed three people in one day and tried to kill you. You were still so proud of him for saving the rest of the people you cared about, even if he had his little psychotic tendencies. You made a mental note to bring up therapy to him once the investigation was over, knowing he needed to work through the daddy issues he ultimately had after years of neglect. You knew that you were going to be by his side the whole way, not wanting him to feel like he didn’t matter ever again.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

489 notes · View notes

thenameisgul · 3 days

Text

if supernatural creatives just put in a little more effort into the show it could��ve been so good

Like, you introduced a character that speaks ASL so let them speak ASL!

If Sam speaks ASL then show him get better at it as time progresses other than just some simple gestures.

Show dean try to learn and speak in broken ASL because eileen is his friend and she’s important to sam.

Let Castiel, ‘I don’t get words wrong’ , angel of the lord, speak fluent ASL because ofcourse he does.

If they just used a little bit more of their budget and tried a little harder. Ugh

#also Eileen bby you deserved better too #like every woman in supernatural #but we still love you #supernatural #castiel #destiel #dean winchester #spn #deancas #sam winchester #eileen #eileen leahy

390 notes · View notes

katebishopshands · 2 months

Note

Can you do Kate Bishop and reader getting back from a long day of missions and get all cozy together then take starts teasing and it leads to the bedroom. Thank you <3

Teehee I like this one :)

I made reader a magic user because I never see the dynamic in any Kate fics :))

I <3 in universe Kate so much

(Tags: thigh riding, tit groping, slight nipple play, strapping, strap ons, Kate and reader are quite literally the defintion of switches, Kate bishops strap is purple and sparkly bc I said so, showering together ( non sexual, it’s actually really cute))

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･

Call it what you want ✨

Kate Bishop/Reader

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･

Your whole body ached. You weren’t even sure how your feet were able to hold the weight of your body up as you stood waiting for Kate to open the door.

You’re sure the two of you looked ridiculous. Still in your hero suits, covered in cuts and bruises, probably smelling a little funky as well.

Thats one thing they don’t mention when you become anAvenger, it only looks glamorous when you’re receiving hero’s medals and keys to the city, attending charity events in gowns you could realistically never own. They don’t mention that you have to lug all your things back to your girlfriend’s dingy apartment and wait for her to unlock the door.

Kate’s fumbling with the keys, the gloves she wore to protect her fingers from her bow strings getting in the way. You give a slightly annoyed sigh as you gently take the keys from her hands being able to quickly find the correct key and unlock the door.

“Thanks!” Kate smiles at you. You returned her smile with a tired one of your own as you step through the door. You prop the door open for Kate with the arm closest, Kate hums appreciatively and ducks under your arm. You can’t help but snort at her a little as she gives you a kiss on the cheek while she passes you. She could’ve gone around you, but wanted to add a little flair and go underneath your arm. Sometimes what went on in her mind just flabbergasted you.

Lucky raises his head from his bed in the living room, giving you both a happy dog smile. You assume he can sense the fatigue coming off of the both of you because he stays put, resting his head back on his paws politely.

“Christ, that was rough” you say as you rub the back of your neck attempting to loosen some of the tight muscles there. Kate groans, dropping her bow and quiver. A few arrows skid across the kitchen floor, bow clattering on the checkered ground.

“Tell me about it, I don’t think I’ve even been nearly blown up that much in my whole life”

You look at your girlfriend’s form as she begins to unclip the utility belt that held all or trick arrowheads around her waist. She’s slightly covered in dust, it coats her usually pink cheeks in a fine layer. Parts of her suit are singed, a few scrapes cover her nose and chin. Somehow,despite everything, she still looks good.

Kate drops the utility belt on the floor next to her quiver and bow. She throws her head back, nose to the sky and gives a giant groan. You roll your eyes.

“I swear, if Sam would’ve just listened to my plan the whole thing would’ve gone way more smooth” she looks at you with watery blue eyes. You pout a little at her.

“Easy there Hawkeye,” you walk over to her, cradling her face in one of your hands. Kate leans her head into you and reciprocates your pout. “You’ll have your time, Sam can’t be the leader forever”

“I love him but he can be so stupid sometimes”

“Isn’t that how we feel about most bosses?”

“Touché” Kate shrugs and keeps her head in your hands. You roll your eyes at her and begin to trace her injuries with your other hand.

“We should get these cleaned up” you trace your thumb over a cut on her chin. She jumps and bit and winces.

“can’t you just cast a spell and make it better?” She bats her long lashes at you a couple times. Despite how many times you have told Kate, that’s not what you use magic for it can never get through her head.

“That’s now how it works Katie, and you know it” you smile at her, your hand drifting from her chin to hold her hand.

“But I hate the alcohol wipes” she pouts at you again. You actually almost feel bad for the archer. But you knew it was an act to get you to do some sort of magic for her. She was the most dramatic girl you’ve ever met.

You give her a kiss quickly.

“We need to shower.” Kate blurts. She’s rubbing your fingers with her thumb. It was your time to groan. She was right and you knew it, but the idea of taking off your suit sounded exhausting.

“Ugh but that takes so much effort”

“I’ll get out the fancy soap Laura gave me for my birthday last year”

Kate knows you can’t resist the temptation of the homemade lavender soap that Laura Barton had gifted her. Anytime Kate had showered with it and you had been around her, you were obsessed with it. Finding every excuse you could to press your nose into the crook of her neck to smell it on her warm skin.

“Sold” it was Kate’s turn to roll her eyes. She begins to drag you towards the small bathroom for the apartment. You’re dragging your feet, letting your socks glide across the smooth floor of her apartment. Kate giggles and pulls a little harder, pulling you into her.

Her back is against her bathroom door as she holds you against her. Her hands lay comfortably on your lower back as yours sit pressed against the front of her chest. You both say nothing, just looking at the other and smiling. After a day filled with almost dying, it was nice to just bask in each others presence.

Kate’s hands begin to wander downward, one hand giving a firm squeeze to your ass. You jump a little.

“Yknow we could…” she trails off, eyes glancing at your lips. Her other hand joins at your ass. You lightly hit her and scoff.

“Hey! You promised me fancy soap!” You pout at her. She throws her hands up in a surrender.

“Okay okay..I was just thinking..”

“Kate Bishop I am not banging you until you don’t have dried alien blood on you” Kate grimaces but fully surrenders as she opens the bathroom door. You follow her into the bathroom and begin to grab essentials for you both. A couple of clean towels, bathrobes for after.

While you’re doing that Kate fights with the shower temperature, it being too cold or too hot. Kate curses under her breath. You give her a look of pity before gently grabbing her hand and removing it from the faucet. You maintain eye contact with her as you use your magic to bring the water to the perfect temperature for you both. Her blue eye go soft and she smiles.

“You never cease to amaze me” she grabs your hand and pulls you into a kiss. A single kiss that turns into several small ones peppering your cheeks.

“I know I do, but the spell won’t last forever so let’s get in, yeah?” You pull the archers head away from your face, gently cradling her cheeks in your grime covered hands. She nods and begins to strip down. You help Kate out of her suit, being careful with it as you know how important it was to her. Kate returns the favor, carefully helping you out of your “wizard clothes” as you’ve so affectionately named them.

Kate massages your shoulders a little, placing a few kisses here and there as she helps you. You sigh in relief once everything is off. Feeling a million times lighter and less constricted.

“Fancy soap time?” she asks. You nod

“Fancy soap time” you confirm and step into her shower. Kate grabs a bar from the cabinet next to the sink. You can’t help but laugh a little at how pale her bare ass is. A couple freckles decorate across her lower back and her butt. It’s cute.

“Are you laughing at me?” Kate asks while standing up. You shake your head

“No” you lie.

“Whatever” she rolls her eyes and joins you in the shower.

You both take turns helping the other to wash up. Massaging over Kate’s sore back muscles with the soap. She leans her head back and sighs contented. You press a kiss to her shoulder as the warm water rains down on you both. It’s comforting to have help in the shower. Not trying to get in the others pants at the other moment. Just taking in the others presence, letting the warm water wash away the blood and grime from your assignment earlier.

You admire Kate’s muscles. Years of martial arts, gymnastics and archery had left her in fantastic shape. Sometimes it was confusing to you as to how you managed to pull her, but you would never have it any other way. Kate’s biceps flex as she squeezes some shampoo into her hands.

“Turn around, let me wash your hair” you oblige her and turn. Kate rakes her fingers through your hair, scrubbing at your scalp. You close your eyes as Kate works at your hair. Gently maneuvering you under the water to rinse the suds and then apply conditioner. You inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo mixing with the lavender from the soap. An odd combination but a combination that reeked of Kate.

Before you’d like it, Kate’s shutting the water off and exiting the shower. She wraps a towel around herself and then holds a large purple towel open for you to jump into. You let her wrap it around you before working with it to dry yourself off. Together you brush your teeth, wash your faces and take a comb through you hair in comfortable silence. That’s one thing you’ve always loved about being with Kate, is that she knows when to turn off her mouth when you really need to reset.

Once you’re both done kates sat in her bed tucked under the purple duvet. You’re shuffling through her vinyl collection, attempting to decide what to put on. You land on one of her well loved Taylor swift vinyls and put it on the turn table. The first few notes of the album begin to play and you turn to her.

You had left a pair of sweats at hers from sometime earlier when you had visited her, so you wore that and a sweatshirt of hers. It was some archery team sweatshirt from college, her last name “BISHOP” written in bold white letters across your back.

“Should we order something? Chinese….pizza?” Kate looks up from her phone, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Ugh Kate you only want pizza because you live above a pizzeria” you hit her with a pillow as you sit down next to her. She laughs and shrugs.

“Okay okay, guilty, then what do you want?”

You spend a few minutes arguing over what you wanted to eat. Both of you hadn’t eaten since early that morning before your assignment. Eventually settling on something, you curled into Kate’s side. Both of you doing your own things on your phones. She fiddles with the ends of your damp hair absentmindedly.

You let your phone drop and sigh, staring at the wall. Kate ignores you and continues scrolling. Your fingers trace small circles on her stomach. She continues to ignore you. Another, louder sigh. Nothing.

You’re creeping your hands up her abdomen towards her sports bra clad chest. Your hand is sat on her boob, yet she’s still engrossed in scrolling.

You squeeze

Kate jumps in response. Looking away from her phone and down to you near her chest.

“The hell was that for?”

You bat your eyelashes a bit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you feign innocence and you give another squeeze to her tit.

“Oh you’re asking for it” Kate sits up fully, grabbing under your armpits as she manhandles you to sit on her lap. You protest a little, trying to shove her away. You both laugh a bit. Kate grabs at your sides , and you jolt in her lap. Trying to squirm away from her you shove her face away as she leans in to kiss you.

“You seemed so eager for my attention a few minutes ago, and now you’re all shy?” Her face is mere inches away from your face. You can feel her breath fan across your face. Your head towards the bottom of her bed, Kate on her knees straddling across you.

“You were paying attention to only your phone” you jut out your bottom lip at her, feeling extra bratty.

“And so were you!”

“Nuh uh!” You cross your arms and avoid looking at her. You’re hoping it pushes her to initiate something. It does.

Kate grabs at your sides again. Pushing her warm hands under your sweatshirt to touch your bare skin. You could’ve sworn her fingertips were burning holes through your skin. She started kissing your neck, working her way up to your jaw and then eventually up to your lips. Kate guides your head back to a front facing position as her hands slide up your torso, hands making their way to your bare tits. She starts to knead at the flesh as she works at your mouth.

You groan into her, arching your chest into her eager hands. Your hands tug at the roots of her hair, still a little damp from the shower you took earlier. She smells like everything you could want from her. Her coconut shampoo, the lavender soap you love so much. No longer smelling like the battle you were engaged in for most of the day. She was back to just Kate. Not Hawkeye. Your Kate.

Kate pulls away from you, but continues to grope at you. She pinches your right nipple between her pointer finger and thumb. You press your chest upwards again, a small whine falling from your mouth. You lift your head up, attempting to kiss Kate again. She pulls her head back, opting to stare down at you with a smug smile on her face. Her eyes flick up and down your face, from your lips to your eyes.

“Paybacks a bitch isn’t it?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she wedges a knee between your legs. You were so incredibly fucked.

Upon contact you moan. Her knee colliding so perfectly with your sensitive core. You hadn’t even realized how worked up you had gotten from just a little teasing.

“Katie..” you do your best plead with her. You HAD started this whole thing by being a brat, and now you were getting consequences for it. She quirks an eyebrow at you. Kate stops groping you, pulling her hands entirely from your shirt. Her gaze goes soft as she sits up fully, keeping her knee between your legs. You grind down on it.

Locking eyes with Kate you do it again, making a show out of the moan that escapes your mouth. Your hands run up your torso, dragging the gray sweatshirt up your body. Kates eyes trail your body as your body becomes more and more exposed. You watch her breath get hitch as the fabric gets pulled over your breasts, leaving your chest bare infront of her.

You continue to rile her up, groping at your tits and humping onto her knee. A slew of pornographic and almost obnoxious moans falling from your mouth. Kate continues to not touch you, clearly enjoying watching you get yourself off on her knee a little too much. You watched her chest heave up and down with every breath she took, blue eyes dilating with every moan that left your mouth.

If you were being completely honest, you were putting on a show for her. The thick sweatpants you had on were getting in your way, with only a small amount of actual friction getting to your aching clit. Despite Kate’s burning stare and your own ministrations at your tits it wasn’t enough. Holding Kate’s eyes, you let your hands slide back down your bod, thumbs hooking around the waistband of your sweats. Kate swallows impatiently. You knew she had to be soaking at this point.

The way she licked her lips, the way her fingers twitched. This was torture. Clearly she hadn’t have thought this plan through as much as she thought. If she wasn’t going to help you through it, you were going to do it yourself.

You slide your sweats down your legs, carefully removing them before sitting up fully so you were finally sat on Kate’s toned thigh.

Kate slips her bottom lip inbetween her teeth as she feels your heat on her. Nothing but a black thong separating you two. You reassume your previous motions. Dragging your hips back and forth across Kate’s thigh you sling your arms over her shoulders, pressing your bare chest into her own. You play with the long black locks that fall down her back as you ride her thigh. The friction of her sports bra on your peaked nipples add a spark of pleasure through you. Your nose presses against hers, just barely grazing it. You let open mouthed moans hit her face.

Kate stays strong, resisting the urge to touch you. A flex of her thigh bumps against your clit and you whine.

“Fuck this” Kate’s resolve finally breaks. She had tried to be strong, teach you a lesson for being a brat but she just couldn’t. Not when you’re moaning into her mouth.

She grabs your hips, fully taking control of your speed. You don’t protest. You let Kate dominate the pace, quickly accelerating the once dull feeling of an oncoming orgasm. Kate crashes her lips onto yours, effectively swallowing any sounds that could’ve escaped your mouth.

Your hands move from behind Kate’s back to underneath her bra. You knead at her boobs, pinching at her nipples. She jerks away with a whine. You keep at it while Kate guides you on her thigh. Your motions are limited under the constriction of her sports bra so you grab the bottom of it, beginning to pull it off of her body. Kate’s hands leave your hips for a moment as she raised them above her head.

You yank the sports bra off her body and over her head, throwing it out of sight and out of mind . Your bare chests rub against each other as you continue to rut against Kate. Almost to your orgasm. Kate whines into you every time one of her stiff nipples rubs against your own, her own hips bucking into yours uncontrollably.

A gentle bite to your lip and a flex of Kate’s toned thigh sends you over the edge. You’re finishing in your underwear. Kate moans a bit as she feels your warm release coat her thigh. You’re leaning into her, forehead resting on her shoulder as you catch your breath. Kate rubs at your back, letting her nails give you light scratches. You sit silently as you both calm down for a second.

“You’re such a brat” Kate gives a playful pinch to your butt. You roll your eyes as you sit up to look at her.

“Brat or not, you benefitted from it.”

Kate turns her lips downward a little and looks up to consider something. She shrugs.

“Well..I didn’t finish so..did I really?” She’s smug with it. Are you brave enough to accept her offer and put her in her place? She wants to push your buttons as payback.

“Fuck you” you say standing.

“That’s what I’m trying to get you to do!” Kate laughs as she lays down again. She rolls over to check her phone for what time the food will be there. Something else is on your mind though.

Accepting Kate’s challenge.

You crouch by her bedside table, opening the drawer. You look over to Kate’s back. She doesn’t stir. After a little digging you find what you want.

A clear purple glittery strap on stares at you from Kate’s drawer. It’s her prized possession. You didn’t even want to know how much she had spent on it.

Using your magic, you silently lift it from the drawer and put it on. Letting the harness adjust itself to your measurements with your magic as to not alert Kate. You clear your throat, asking for Kate’s attention once more. She rolls over, eyes going wide at the sight of you wearing her strap.

“Jesus Christ.” It’s almost like you could see her head go blank. She lays there, eyes wide.

“You said you didn’t get to finish? Well let’s finish” you grin as you straddle yourself over her. You lean down to kiss Kate. Your girlfriend eagerly reciprocates as she juts her chin out to deepen the kiss. You groan a little as Kate’s hands dig into your hair, pulling at the roots. You detach from her lips as you make your way down her neck, sucking and leaving little love bites on her neck and chest. It was times like this where you thanked whatever higher power that was out there that your girlfriend dressed decently conservatively or else you’d both never hear the end of it from the rest of the Avengers.

Kate throws her head back as you grab at her tits, pinching a nipple between your thumb and pointer finger.

“Cmon..” Kate pants impatiently.

“Oh and I’m the brat?” You say slightly annoyed, pulling off of her.

“Fuck you” she responds with the same attitude. Kate grabs at your head, trying to bring you down for another kiss. You dodge her. Giving her a taste of her own medicine from earlier.

“No Katie, I’m fucking you” you grin at her as you tug her own sweatpants and underwear down her pale thighs . You can see that she’s soaked.

Kate was often generous in letting you finish and not finishing herself. Today was not one of those days. You guide the strap through her folds, wetting it and making sure to bump her sore clit. Kate jumps in response.

“Come,” bump “on”. She’s so impatient. You decide to oblige her, sinking the strap on into her cunt.

“Shit!” Kate curses. “You could’ve at least given me some warning!” Her blue eyes are wide as her hands search for something to grab onto. You grab one of them, giving a kiss to it.

“You told me to come on, so I did” you state plainly, batting your eyes a few times at her. You give a few experimental thrusts just to watch Kate squirm under you. Some slow, some fast and short, some long. Every thrust of your hips has Kate writhing. She squeezes her eyes closed as she gets used to the feeling of the strap inside of her.

“I am so getting you back for this” Kate retorts. You thrust into her hard enough to make her tits bounce. She moans, loud.

“Bold words for someone who’s got my dick shoved inside of her” you could’ve sworn you felt her squeeze around the silicone cock at your hips. She groans.

You stop.

“God, just shut up and fuck me” she grins at you as she leans upwards, you meet her halfway. You kiss her as you begin a steady rhythm into her. Kate smiles onto the kiss, her hands anchoring themselves into your hair.

The harness rubs perfectly at your own clit. Mixed with the pleasant feeling of Kate’s hands in your own hair you can feel your own arousal seeping down your thighs again as you fuck into Kate.

Kate’s whining underneath you as you thrust in and out of her, one hand going down to play with her clit. She gasps once she feels your hand down there.

“Shit I’m close” she’s breathless, her voice barely above a whisper. And honestly you are too. You were still relatively sensitive from riding Kate earlier so the friction of the harness was working you at a steady pace. You keep at the solid pace, pinching Kate’s clit in an effort to get her to her peak.

“You got it, doing so good” you praise her. And that’s what does it. Kate gushes as she receives your praise. She’s finishing on the silicone cock with a whine of your name.

You give a few desperate thrusts in an attempt to finish yourselves once more. You’re whining with desperation , rhythm thrown out the window as you chase your high.

You’re finishing again with a final thrust. Pulling out of Kate as quick as possible to not overstimulate her and make her uncomfortable. You shed yourself of the strap and your soiled underwear, joining Kate as you lay down.

You kiss her neck gently,rubbing at her sides. She wraps her arms around you and plants a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thanks uh…for letting me finish.” You can’t see her face, but you can feel Kate’s smile pressed against your head. Despite smelling like sex, her skin still smells like the soap you love so much. You her a kiss under her jaw.

“Of course, I couldn’t have left you hanging.” You smile at her. You can hear the record player still spinning. You had no idea when the record had stopped playing. You lay with your girlfriend for a few moments. You trace lines from freckle to freckle on her stomach. Another kiss is pressed to her bare chest.

“Do you think we’ll have to fight more aliens tomorrow?” She asks, looking at the ceiling.

“God I fucking hope not, I need to sleep for at least a day to rest up from today alone” you groan. You really had no more patience for intergalactic threats.

A buzzer rings, jolting you and Kate from your comfortable silence. The buzzer for Kate’s front door. The food was here. Lucky barks at the buzzer and you can hear his feet tap against the flooring on the lower level.

You and your girlfriend give a moan of annoyance, having just got comfortable. You sit up holding your fist out to her.

“I win, you go get the food and if you win, I get the food…best two out of three?” You smile expectantly at Kate.

Kate laughs at you and holds out her fist, ready to kick your ass in rock paper scissors.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･

Back to my roots with the little one off fics !!!

Kate deserves to get strapped every now and then, I stand by it

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #hawkeye series #mcu #hawkeye show #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop x female reader #marvel #kate bishop fic #kate bishop hawkeye #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x y/n

297 notes · View notes

uncouth-the-fifth · 10 months

Text

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain.

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside.

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him.

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already.

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to.

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound.

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you.

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness.

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him.

…And Sam had.

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester x reader

1K notes · View notes

sorchathered · 27 days

Text

You’re still the one💙

Pairing- Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- language, a little bit smutty, angst with lots of pining and longing.

Summary- Bob’s come back to his small town in Georgia for his best friends wedding, will their plan to bring him back together with his high school sweetheart work out? Or will it end in more heartache?

When Bob had gotten the wedding invite in the mail he’d been so thrilled, truly. His best friend Sam had done the impossible, made the long distance work through college and grad school and now finally he was marrying his high school sweetheart Millie. He was happy for them, really he was. The only thing that could’ve been better is if he was sharing this with you. This was supposed to be the two of you, conquering your goals and then winding up together, but it hadn’t worked out the way either of you planned and it had been longer than Bob knew since he’d seen your face.

Millie had asked if your old band from high school would reunite for the wedding music and you’d been over the moon, a few of you had continued to play together and occasionally doing a gig or two just for old times sake, knowing that she wanted you involved in her special day made your heart swell.

The closer the date got the more dread seemed to settle in your bones, you’d stalked Bob’s socials and sneakily asked if he was bringing a date, but the look Sam had given you when he said Bob was coming alone let you know he knew exactly what you were hoping. Maybe he didn’t have someone waiting for him in California, maybe he had even asked about you, and for the first time in almost 6 years you let yourself hope.

In his lonely little apartment in Coronado Robert Floyd was doing about as well as you. He’d thought of nothing but you since that invitation showed up in his mail, hell that was a lie; he spent most nights thinking of you if he was truly honest with himself. He was sure Sam and Millie were already plotting some elaborate scheme to push the two of you together over the wedding celebration and he had to laugh at their dedication. He still wasn’t sure how things had gotten so screwed up. Long distance had been hard, deployments, work schedules and midterms seemed to keep the two of you from ever being able to make concrete plans and eventually it felt like you two had just grown apart too much for repair.

He should’ve fought harder, any attempts to move on over the years had been a complete disaster because how was he supposed to find someone new when he was still hung up on you? Natasha always loved to pick on him about it, that one day he’d have to move on or would have to have his “rom com moment” as she called it and sweep you back off your feet but Bob figured you’d long forgotten about him by now. If he only knew that you’d been just as hung up as he was, but neither of you had been brave enough to reach out.

The wedding festivities were in full swing this week, Millie had sent you the final list of songs she wanted for the wedding and you had added a few crowd favorites as well. You missed the days of jamming with your friends, being a music teacher was so rewarding and it had been everything you’d dreamed it would be, but you couldn’t deny that you were looking forward to getting to let loose with old friends.

You were in full nostalgia mode by the time the weekend of the wedding, thinking of all the things you’d had planned for yourself way back when. You’d had your whole wedding planned out, you knew it had been silly but you’d dreamed of a party with all your friends and at the center of it the boy you’d loved since you were a little girl. Deep in the recesses of your parents attic was a hot pink sparkly notebook from senior year with a list of songs you wanted for your own wedding day, gel pen rainbow font with little cursive scribbles of Mrs. Robert Floyd and hearts doodled all over the page. But that had been another lifetime ago, and just the thought of how much time had changed you both brought tears to your eyes.

Bob was so glad to be back home, it had been ages, his mother was already fussing about how he needed to eat more and catching him up on all the town gossip. He wanted to ask about you, but she beat him to the punch; gushing about the musical the middle school was putting on and how hard you were working to make it a success. It looked like all your dreams had come true, you were doing what you loved, but his mama could see the far off look in his eyes as she spoke, she knew all too well what he was feeling.

“You should call her you know, I have her number if you want it.” She’d said softly as she touched his hand but he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Oh Mama, too much time has passed, I’m sure she’s got someone who could treat her way better than me.” She patted his hand lovingly and shook her head, “Sweet boy, there were never two people better suited for one another than the two of you. I don’t think she ever moved on, I know you didn’t. You know…she lives in the old Macon house on Water Road, not too far if you wanted to take a walk.”

“Mama! “ he said harshly but his features didn’t match his tone at all, he was trying his best not to laugh at her persistence.

She put her hands up and laughed, “I’m just saying, the night air might do you some good. After all life is too short sweetheart.” He thought of his father, taken from them too soon and how his mother had never found anyone else. He’s been her everything, Bob had always thought that would be the same with the two of you.

She heads up for the evening and he’s left alone with his thoughts again. Her house isn’t that far, maybe 5 minutes, and it’s only 8 pm on a Friday she would probably still be awake…

Before he can really mull it over he’s slipping on his shoes and heading out the door, feet carrying him down the sidewalks and past the quaint antebellum style houses illuminated in the orange glow of the street lights until he finds himself at your door. He’s warring with himself about knocking, what the hell was he doing? He’d barely spoken to you in almost 6 years, this was stupid he should’ve never done this. As he turns away to walk down the porch steps he hears the lock click and turning of the door handle, light illuminating the porch as you poke your head out into the night.

“Robby? Is that you?” You say quietly, a small smile on your lips as you look him over with eager eyes. Time had been good to you, he’d always thought you were the most beautiful girl on earth and that certainly hadn’t changed. You weren’t a young girl anymore, your figure was all curves, he couldn’t help but tighten his fists thinking about running his hands over your voluptuous body. Snap out of it Floyd, get your shit together, he thought as you looked at him with confusion evident on your face.

“Well? You gonna come in? Your mama told me you were coming by, I’ve just been sitting by the window listening out for you.” You said as you opened the door a little wider for him to step through. “Of course she did” he muttered, shaking his head with a dark chuckle, leave it to Susan Floyd to take things into her own hands.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he continued to stand awkwardly in the doorway, “I can’t really read your faces anymore Floyd, do you want to come in or are we gonna let all the bugs into my house tonight?” Hands on your hips, sassy remark, yep you were still every bit the spitfire he remembered, that take no shit attitude clearly hadn’t gone anywhere.

“Yeah, yeah y/n I was coming by, sorry I just…I had an idea in my head of what I was gonna say and now here I am and I’ve got nothing.” He said sheepishly as he ran a hand over the back of his neck. You reached for the hand at his side and pulled him through the doorway, closing the door and scooting him in the direction of the couch. Bossy. As always.

“How about I get you a glass of sweet tea and we get all the awkward small talk out of the way, or we could just skip it if you want? I’ve been keeping up with your life through your mom but if you’ve got questions I’m happy to answer them.” You said as you shuffled down the hall to the little kitchen, Bob plopping himself down on your ridiculously comfy velvet couch. “You keep up with me?” He said in shock, he never would’ve thought you’d give him a second thought after he let everything crash and burn, maybe his mama had been right to push him this way.

“Of course I do, it’s not every day you get to be in the top 1% in your field, especially with a job like yours. I’ve always cheered you on, just didn’t think you’d ever show up here, kinda figured you’d forgotten all about me.” You said as you placed down a Mason jar of sweet tea and a tin of shortbread cookies, you’d said it so nonchalantly but he could see in your eyes the hurt was still there.

“I’ve kept up with you too, I- uh I’ve looked at your instagram, and Millie of course updates me when I ask, even if she is still pissed at me about how things ended. You uh- you look like you got everything you wanted in your career too. Mama said the school play is gonna be a big success. I know you’ve gotta be thrilled.”

You nodded, just bringing up your students brought the light back into your eyes. “They are the best, I thought it’d be weird teaching at our old school but truly it is such a joy. These kids love music, it’s so much fun watching them show off their creativity. And as for Millie…Well I’m pretty sure she and Sam have some elaborate plan to “accidentally” trap us in a closet together tomorrow until we work everything out. They’ve been oddly sneaky lately.” You laugh out, and Bob can’t help but join in, they definitely weren’t subtle but you could both agree they were damn good friends.

You both laughed and talked for hours, going through the whole tin of cookies as you caught up on each other’s lives, somewhere in the early morning hours you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder and Bob felt his heart stutter in his chest as he looked down at you. He’d missed this, just being with you.

You had been his favorite person for his entire childhood, how did he let things get so out of hand? It couldn’t be comfortable being propped up like that, so Bob carefully pulled you into his arms and carried you to your room. It was nearly 4 am, he would just crash on your couch like a gentleman should and make an excuse to bail when he woke up. Laying you on the bed he made to step away but you curled your fist into his shirt, murmuring “stay with me” as you pulled him closer, and how could he possibly tell you no? He toed off his shoes and slid in next to you, falling asleep to the sounds of your breathing and warm body pressed to his.

He couldn’t place where he was when he woke up, just that it smelled like coffee and pancakes and somehow he’d slept in. Upon opening his eyes it all came back to him, how you’d asked him to stay and he’d fallen asleep in your arms, he felt hot all over just thinking about it, anxiety filling his chest as he worried about how to navigate the sure to be awkward morning after conversation. Again he wondered how they’d gotten so far from where they’d begun; but one thing hadn’t changed, holding you had simply brought it all back. The feelings he had never wavered, and he was fairly sure he was even more smitten with you now after catching up than he had been before.

You were dancing around in the kitchen as you cooked, spatula acting as a microphone while Fleetwood Mac played from your phone. Clad in a tattered t-shirt and pajama shorts from the night before with your hair messily piled on your head. There was that feeling again, the heat blooming in his chest and the butterflies he’d never felt for anyone but you. It nearly knocked the wind out of him. You couldn’t be more beautiful to him than you were in this moment, he wished he could burn it into his brain forever.

You spun around to the beat but jumped almost a foot in the air when you noticed him, clutching your chest as giggles erupted from you both. “Oh! Oh my god Robby you scared the hell out of me! Did’ya sleep ok? Want breakfast?” You said gesturing behind you to the steaming pile of pancakes and bacon, he wanted breakfast for sure but he knew one thing he wanted more than that.

He crowded you up against the stove, leaning behind you to cut the burner off as he looked down at you with a small smile. “Breakfast sounds good, sweet girl, but we need to talk first.”

“Uh huh” you said and he could tell he had the same dizzying effect on you, that was good, he was hoping this wasn’t one sided.

“I had more fun with you last night than I’ve had in years, and I can’t think of why we ever stopped doing this in the first place. Well a reason that actually counts anyways. I know it’s sudden, hell you probably have a line out the door hoping for a date but-“

“Yes!” You blurted out, nodding your head as you abandoned the spatula and gripped the back of his neck to pull his lips to yours.

You’d meant it to be sweet, just a peck to let him know you wanted the same things he did, but it had been so long, and no one had ever made you feel like he did. It got heated fast, muscular arms wrapped around your waist pulling you in so tight that nothing to get between you, hands in his hair as his kisses became more urgent, opening his mouth to you as you moaned softly into his, and the noise seemed to flip a switch as he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you back down the hall to your bedroom.

It was as sweet and smooth as molasses, he unwrapped you like a present as you tugged at his clothes, you wanted him as bare as you were. He eagerly obliged, tossing his shirt and jeans somewhere across your room as he climbed back into bed and pressed you into the mattress.

“Y/n I-“

“I know baby, I feel it too. Make love to me Robby.”

And so he did, again and again until the two of you felt boneless, breakfast long forgotten and morning seeping into early afternoon.

You’d fallen asleep in his arms around one, and he knew he’d have to wake you up soon to get ready for the wedding and go home to get his suit. He just wanted to stay wrapped up in this a little longer, as much as he needed this to be real again he also knew there was so much red tape. You lived on the opposite coast from him, your career was thriving and you’d never moved away from home. He couldn’t ask you to pack away your life and move every 3-4 years with him. Distance had been what broke you apart last time, he didn’t know if he could bear losing you a second time.

When you finally stirred around 2 you popped up in a panic, you were alone in bed and it was clearly later in the day than you had expected it to be. A sick feeling washed over you, had you interpreted everything wrong? Where was he? Did he regret it and bail?

The sound of a door opening broke you from your thoughts, heavy footfalls down the hallway let you know he hadn’t actually left. He caught your watery eyes looking at him from the doorway and rushed forward to cradle you in his arms, swiping at the tears before they could fall.

“What’s going on it that head of yours? You ok?” He said as he rubbed soothing hands against your back.

“It’s stupid, I woke up alone and I thought..” you stopped and then looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought you’d left” you said with a whisper, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Oh. Aw Shit. I mean I did leave, but for just a minute to grab us some lunch and my suit for tonight, I’m sorry baby I should’ve left a note.” He looked a little embarrassed as well, he was very clearly out of practice when it came to having a partner.

“Ugh, we’re a mess aren’t we?” You chuckled out as you buried your head in his neck, he just nodded as he continued to hold you, he still didn’t know what this was but god he didn’t want to lose it.

“We probably need to figure all of this out y/n, I don’t want to pop the bubble but I can’t shut my brain off. I want this, all of it with you. I’m scared I’m gonna ruin it again.” He was grateful that you couldn’t see his face, he didn’t know if he could keep himself from falling apart if you could.

“We’ll do whatever it takes.” You pulled back to cup his cheeks so he was looking in your eyes. “We were young and stupid back then, but we can do this now. I know we can. If I have to pack up and head to California I will, I’m not saying it won’t be hard but it’s worth it.”

He fucked you slow and steady under the hot spray of the shower after that, worshipping every bit of you and definitely making you both late.

The two of you scrambled to get to the venue, making it right on time, Sam giving Bob a knowing look at his disheveled appearance when he burst into the groom's suite. When you stopped into the bridal suite to check on Millie, she made sure to pick on you for the hickey you’d tried to hide under your ear. Clearly the plan had worked, maybe not how they’d thought but the result was what they were after. You’d have to send his Mama flowers on Monday for her meddling, she’d known what was best even when the two of you didn’t.

The ceremony was beautiful, full of tears and love and Bob couldn’t help but let his eyes drift over to you, he already had plans swirling in his head of wedding rings and a future he’d thought was long lost. After you sang for the reception the band took over and Bob twirled you around the dance floor for much of the evening, he would hold these moments close until he could get you back in his arms again. It had been the perfect weekend.

A few months later you both were carrying moving boxes into his little townhouse, a new job all lined up at the local middle school and the entire summer to spend by the beach with your boyfriend. Everything had fallen into place, and if the little ring box in Bob’s back pocket had anything to do with it, he’d soon be calling you Mrs. Floyd.

🏷️ Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @roosterforme @sebsxphia @floydsglasses @sarahsmi13s @bradshawssugarbaby @hangmansgbaby

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd x you

278 notes · View notes

breeloveschris · 4 months

Text

You’ll Never Understand pt 6

Pt 5 Pt 7

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Reader

summary: Y/n always been best friends with the triplets.. until one random day in sophomore year Chris despised Y/n, and till this day Y/n still don’t know why. Nick and Matt will never understand why Y/n has never stopped being sweet and caring to Chris as if nothing ever happened.

Warnings: cussing, kinda heated 💁🏼‍♀️

Who would’ve thought Y/n would be here kissing her “enemy”. But the only question she has is.. how long is this gonna last? It’s only been today but how was she supposed to know if he’d randomly start being mean again. She’s scared. His switch could flip at any moment. Or he could be using Y/n just wanting to get laid.

Chris deepens the kiss pulling Y/n onto his lap and grabbing her hips pulling her close. Y/n pulls away with Chris’s bottom lip in between her teeth making Chris let out a soft hushed moan. Y/n smirks at Chris rocking her hips into his lap. Chris throws his head back letting out a whimper. Y/n is about to tease Chris for it but before she can Chris just rolls his eyes grabbing her neck and adding pressure making her let out a loud moan. Chris smiles with hooded eyes and brings her back to his lips.

Chris licks Y/n’s bottom lip begging for entrance. She lets him. Their tongues fight for dominance, Chris’s winning. Y/n rocks her hips on his lap hard. She lets out a short gasp when she feels his hard on. Before anything could get too far there was a knock on the door. “Ugh. Great.” Chris says quietly with a groan. Y/n laughs and gets up to answer the door while Chris grabs a pillow and puts it on his lap.

Y/n opens the door with a smile, “hey guys!!” She said hugging Nick. “We’ve come to your rescue to save you from the beast that holds you captive!” Nick says holding his fist up like he was a super hero. Y/n laughs as she leads them into the living room where Chris is. “Thank god, y’all took fucking forever and I was stuck here with grumpy from Snow White and the 7 dwarfs.” Chris says with an eye roll.

“Y/n/n could’ve took you home if you would’ve asked” Nick said sitting beside Chris. “Yea Chris, I could’ve.” Y/n said seething. Chris just looks at her with a smirk “that got under someone’s skin eh?” Chris lets out a laugh before continuing, “where’s the food im starving.” Matt just rolls his eyes and passes him his food with a sigh. They all eat our food watching Snow White and the 7 dwarfs because Chris begged and begged thinking he was funny.

“Oh Y/n! Our friends Sam and Colby are throwing this influencer party, they said we could invite anyone and me and Matt decided to invite you and Madi since all y’all talk about when you’re together is their videos” Nick says letting out a laugh. “Nah dude I haven’t seen Madi in so long.” Y/n says throwing her head back with a groan. “I don’t want her going, don’t I get a say in this?” Chris says pointing at Y/n. She just let out a huff. “No Chris you don’t. You can bring someone yourself yes but I chose Y/n/n and Nick chose Madi.” Matt stated with a firm voice getting his point across.

Chris rolls his eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh and said the most rude thing he has ever said to Y/n shocking all three of them. “All I know is you better have a fuck ton of make up on. And I don’t want you in any pictures. Also don’t fuck anyone there, I know you can be slut sometimes” Chris said looking Y/n dead in the eyes. She laughs loudly and clenches her jaw. Through seethed teeth “fuck you.” Falls out of her mouth as she gets up and goes to the bathroom. Walking out all she can hear is Chris getting scolded. Y/n is confused, she doesn’t know if he’s being real or if he’s just saying that in front of his brother but either way she’s hurt.

Y/n walks back in the room with puffy eyes. Matt gets up seeing her, turning her around and pushing her in her room to talk to her. “Matt what are you doing?” She asks confused. He just sighs “I know what he said was wrong, so wrong but you can’t let what he says affect you” Matt whispers. “I know I shouldn’t but it’s hard when all I do is try and be nice to him and he just shoves right back at my face.” She said letting out a sob. Matt pulls her into a hug. “Y/n, you’re gonna have to stop trying to be nice for something in return. He’s made up his mind.”

Y/n and Matt go back to the living room. “Finally can we go.” Chris says standing up with a groan. “Y/n? You gonna be okay?” Nick asks also standing up. “Yea I’ll be-” she starts but gets interrupted by Chris, “she’s fine dude let’s go” Chris says opening the front door. Y/n doesn’t even spare him a glance. “I’ll be fine, y’all go ahead” she finishes with a smile, Nick sends her a soft smile and hugs her. Matt hugs her as well whispering “remember what i told you” before leaving, Y/n still hasn’t looked at Chris.

It’s been an hour since they left, and Y/n’s bored laying in bed scrolling on instagram when she gets a text, she looks at the name and lets out a groan

Chris 😓

Hey pretty girl, I think we played it off well. 😋

She sighs rolling over and out of bed, she needs a hot shower. She gets in the shower with lots of thoughts in her head not being able to focus on one thing. She’s upset that Chris could even think for one second that, that was okay to say faking it or not. She’s also upset with herself that she finds it hard to forgive him.. he was faking it but at the same time it was rude. She gets out of the shower throwing on pj pants and a sports bra. She goes to her room looking in the mirror seeing the hickeys. She groans going in to the kitchen to grab a whisk, trying anything to get rid of it.

Nothing worked, it’s way lighter now tho so she can hid it with make up. She ended up FaceTiming Nick and Matt while playing Fortnite for a long 2 hours before getting off for bed. She’s laid in bed scrolling through her notifications since her phone was on dnd while she was playing.

Chris 😓

Hello?

You there?

Y/n it’s been an hour, you can pick up your phone

Oh ok

Tell me why I just walked past Matt’s room and heard you’re voice

She sighs letting out a breath. She’s not answering him, she keeps reminding herself of what Matt said.

Nickelodeon 🍰🍒

Address* just in case we don’t pick you up tomorrow or if Chris decides to bring someone!

Y/n 😛🍑

Okay! Sounds good, it’s gonna be soooo good. Maybe Colby Brock will fall in love with me 💁🏼‍♀️

Nickelodeon 🍰🍒

Girl he’s like 9 years older then you😅😂

Y/n😛🍑

Shut up ✋🏼

Y/n laughs while putting her phone down and turning her tv on putting shameless on. She watched at least 2 episodes before getting a call, Y/n didnt even look at the phone and anwsered just wanting to watch her show. “Hello?” She said with a tired voice. “Pretty girl, why are you ignoring me” Chris said with a raspy voice. She didn’t say anything and just hung up. She scolds herself for not looking at the name. A mistake she’ll never make again.

It’s currently 2 am and Y/n can’t sleep, she hops on Fortnite for another hour and a half before getting sleepy. She lays laying in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about how fast her world just changed within today. She can’t help but think Chris just wanted to get laid, Chris is the type of guy to have random hookups so she wouldn’t be surprised if he attempted to do it with her. But Y/n is Nick and Matt’s best friend so why would he do that to not only her but them as well.

She slowly starts falling asleep when there’s a loud bang on her door. She jolts out of bed scared. She rolls her eyes at how scared she got so easily. She throws on a sweatshirt that was laying on her bed and goes and opens it seeing Chris. She rolls her eyes shutting the door. Chris beats her to it by putting his arms on the door and pushing it open. “What the fuck Y/n” Chris says slightly loud. “Shut up, you’re gonna wake people up.” Y/n said pulling him inside.

“I don’t care, you’ve been dodging my text and calls and you hung up on me.” Chris said with wide eyes throwing his arms up. “Please leave.” Y/n said looking at the floor playing with strings on her hoodie. “Not until you tell me what I did wrong.” Chris said crossing his arms. Y/n drops her arms clenching her jaw. “You don’t know what you did wrong?” Y/n raised her voice. Chris’s eyes widened slightly not expecting her to be that loud. Y/n lets out a laugh shaking her head. “You need to leave Chris. Now.” She said pointing at her door behind her with tears in her eyes.

“I told you. I’m not leaving. Till you tell me. What I did wrong.” Chris said stepping forward just wanting anwsers. Y/n puts her hand up before he can come any closer. Chris looks down at her hand in disbelief . “You’ve gotta be joking, there’s no way in hell you don’t know.” Y/n says throw gritted teeth. “You’re a fucking asshole to me all the time. You’re only nice when we’re alone. And all you want is a fucking hookup, but I’m not doing it.” Y/n continues getting louder with each word. Chris blows out air, “that’s really what you think of me?” Chris asks whispering. “Please leave Chris” she says looking at the floor again. “Whatever” chris says walking to the door and leaving

Y/n sighs rubbing her hands on her face. She walks to her room ripping off her hoodie and climbing straight into bed, she lays there for another hour before finally falling asleep

Yikes..🤧

Taglist: @lacysturniolo @mattsaq @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosreads @creamoncreamoncream2 @robins-scoop @blahbel668 @carolsturns1 1@sturniolopepsi @luverboychris @hearts4chris @freshloveforthefit @stuniolobbg @novasturniolo03 @alexb5598 @sturnioloa @nicksmainbitch @icedchailatee @bunbunbl0gs

258 notes · View notes

basilf1res · 1 year

Text

Memento Mori - DPxDC

What was beyond death. Was there anything at all? Was there nothing?

That was what he always wondered.

When Clark was a child, he looked up to his fictional hero: Danny Phantom. A half-dead guy in a comic book series that led to the most bisexual awakenings in the century.

Clark liked to go back and reread the comic books from Issue #1 (they were fairly short, but all parts of an “episode”, almost like those ads on shows, but the wait time was every two weeks). He tended to read them all in one sitting, and yet oddly enough, never disturbed as he murmured the made-up summoning spell under his breath.

He could’ve sworn he had been going through them for over an hour and not twenty minutes.

It was Phantom who inspired him to continue being Superman in his darkest moments. He also considered himself physical proof that Danny’s palette swap was enough to hide his identity.

The glasses ARE enough.

When Clark found out he had a clone, he was ecstatic to be able to teach Conner anything everything, to answer any questions his little brother had.

Danielle “Dani” Phantom and her awaited return in “Issue #46 D-stabilized” caused him to become a mama bear to Conner out of the fear he would melt within a few weeks. But it wasn’t like anyone at the Watchtower had to know that small detail.

Getting married to Lois was the best day of his life, the day of Jon’s birth also fighting for that first place spot in his mind.

He had a clone brother, a wonderful wife, a beautiful son, and an amazing group of friends that work together to protect the planet he calls home.

But everything started to fall apart when a protest against metas took it too far, Jon’s powers started to develop and he was seen accidentally tripping, falling, and catching himself by hovering a few inches above the pavement.

Jon said he considered himself lucky nothing scarred. He laughed everything off when it came to the topic.

But it shook Clark, Lois, and Conner to the core.

Memento mori.

It reminded Superman that despite his impenetrable skin, Death can come at any moment. Even for him.

—————————

When Danny was a little boy, he dreamt of reaching the stars, he wanted to be able to touch the moon, explore Mars, and roam the galaxy he resides in and beyond.

He read these comic books of a league of heroes, a team with space cops, super powered humans, a man dressed in a bat suit that was more effective at capturing rogues and villains than some of the powered members, aliens, and so much more.

He flipped through the weekly published comics, learning to read better than most at a young age. He had two favorites, Superman and Martian Manhunter.

Danny wanted to explore the stars like his heroes. He wanted to be able to fight as well as the big Bat. He wanted superpowers. He wanted to help people. He wanted to fight his own set of supervillains. He wanted to be able to succeed and be loved.

Oh how he got everything he wanted but the last.

Tucker and Sam were the only reason he hadn’t broken yet, the reason he was still standing.

The anti-ecto acts, the GIW, Vlad, Pariah Dark, and his- Jack and Maddie’s sadistic comments about ghosts were the last straw.

The hero always wins… they don’t die to the evil they want to stop… right..?

Right..?

…

The sound of a scraping scalpel, the buzz of the lights, and the squeals of pleasure - as his ghostly heart was found again and again and prodded again and again - filled his ears for an unknown length of time.

His cries for help were never answered until a summoning pulled at his core, it was a personal calling, someone had managed to find his calling card.

The tears of relief stung his eyes as the dissection table with his body strapped down to it was sucked into a summons portal.

He was spat out in front of kids, most likely teenagers, due to the shrieks of horror and surprise.

Oh… oh how he prayed to the Ancients that he’d live to see another day as a tears slipped out of his eyes.

Memento mori.

——————————

Jon found out about his comic book collection and wanted to show Damian.

Clark hummed as he typed up an official report on a rogue attack to send to the Watchtower.

His blood ran cold when he heard his son scream from over in Gotham.

2K notes · View notes

jadedvibes · 1 year

Note

Some Bucky to brighten your day. ❤️

Last First Kiss

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Excessive fluff, first kisses, soft Bucky in Louisiana for New Year's Eve.

Word Count: 600

A/N: Thank you for this sweet @navybrat817. This truly brightened my day and inspired a nye drabble! Hope everyone has a very Happy New Year! 💙✨

“So a little birdie told me you’ve never had a new year’s kiss…” Bucky leaned against the wood railing beside you, taking in the sunset on the bayou.

Your eyes widened before you took a deep breath. “I’m gonna kill him.” Ever the meddler, Sam would tell your secret to the first guy you’d liked in a long time.

“Yeah, I’ve been there,” he let out a laugh. “Sam always knows the exact right thing to do to get under your skin, it’s a gift really.”

You shrugged casually. “He overheard me telling Sarah. It’s no big deal.” It really wasn’t, but you knew why Sam was annoyingly butting in. He’d also heard you telling his sister about how smitten you were with his dark-haired best friend.

“Well let me know if you want to change that.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, a small smile playing at your lips. There was no way. “The killing him part or the kiss?”

Bucky smirked, charmed and hopeful that you’d agree. “I haven’t had one in a while, so keep me posted,” he checked his watch. Only a few more hours until midnight. The Wilson household had planned a lowkey evening for the kids later, and the both of you would be in attendance.

He’d secretly had a crush on you for a little longer than you had on him and with Sam’s encouragement he figured there was no better time to do something about it.

“Haven’t committed a murder or given a kiss in a while?” You smiled sheepishly, trying awfully hard to deflect. Of all the reactions to finding out you’d never had a new year’s kiss, this was the last one you expected. Sam’s best friend, a guy you thought was off-limits, offering to change things for you.

He let out a laugh, you were too adorable. “Think about it, sweetheart. I hear it’s good luck,” he playfully shot you a wink before heading back to the barbeque.

Exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you turned back to look at the setting sun over the calm waters. Colorful, peaceful, and captivating.

Later that night.

Sam nudged Sarah before shouting. “Guys it's 12:04, you’ve rung in the new year! You can break it up now.”

Grinning against Bucky’s lips, you felt your cheeks warm again. Busted.

Bucky begrudgingly pulled away from you, turning to glare at Sam. “Just getting as much luck from this as we can, man. Feel free to look away,” he muttered breathlessly before meeting your gaze with a soft shy smile. His thumb stroked your jawline, noting how beautiful you were up close.

He went from menacing to cute in a split second. How did he do that? It didn’t really matter because the way he looked at you, well you sure could get used to it.

“Yeah, look somewhere else,” you teasingly scowled at Sam before tugging at Bucky's henley and kissing him again. He cupped your face and poured himself into the kiss. He thought he was out of practice, but it surprised him how easily he fell back into step with you. Soft and sweeter than anything you could’ve imagined. Warm and careful with just the right amount of desire to leave you aching. Nothing you could have expected, yet everything you silently wished for.

Neither of you knew it then, but what a lucky year it would turn out to be. Never did you imagine that the man that would be your first new year’s kiss would also be your last; for many years in between, and every day after.

1K notes · View notes

bettysupremacy · 11 months

Note

Rafe Cameron with insecure reader?

hey baby! i didn’t know specifically what you wanted the insecurity to be, so I went with this. thank you for the request!

Insecurity rumbles in your tummy as you stand in the fluorescent light of the country clubs ladies room.

It bubbles, raging and green, working its way up till you feel like you might choke on its bulky tears. You’d never known money like this. Imposter syndrome kneads it’s way in.

Why he’d asked you to come with him here, you weren’t sure. He knew how cruel figure eight could be, you knew how the community treated outsiders. So why did you agree to come?

This felt silly though. Nothing of the mistreatment pogues usually endured. A silly comment that shouldn’t have pushed you deep into the depths of the restrooms.

Except it did. So you’ll sit, softly grieving what the night could’ve been if you’d stayed home. If Rafe’s soft persistence hadn’t crumpled your unsurety.

“Are you in here?” The door cracks.

“You can’t be here,” You hiccup pathetically, watching him walk in anyways. “it’s the ladies room.”

“And my lady is in here.” He replies, cooly. You don’t smile. He panics. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s silly.” You frown.

“I bet it’s not.” He steps forward. “If it were, I don’t think you’d be hiding away like this.”

“I’m not hiding.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t accuse you of lying, doesn’t call you out. He knows you’re upset, clearly, but he won’t push.

You know he won’t push, and that almost makes it worse. He won’t beg it out of you, won’t yell. You wish he would. You wish he’d yell until you had no choice but to tell. You wish he’d storm out and demand to know what had happened, just so you won’t have to bare the weight of him being mad at someone when it does come out.

You sigh. “Sam T. said something.”

He looks up. “What’d she say?”

“I’m no snitch.”

His pointed glare cuts the air towards you. “It’s not snitching. I’m your boyfriend.”

“It’s snitching.” You nod. “And when she finds out I’ll be even more of a pariah.”

He laments, wiping your tears on his suit sleeve. You cringe at the wet stain when he pulls it back. “You’re not allowed to cry over Samantha T.”

“What’s the punishment?”

“The knowledge that you’re shedding tears over a girl who ruined the playground sandbox.”

You giggle. Wet and hiccupy. “She was eight, Rafe.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “I can positively tell you I never pissed my pants at the big age of eight. Did you?”

You shake your head back, the pretty earrings Sarah had bought you jangling. “No.” You whisper.

“Good.” He grimaces. “It took a whole two weeks to get replacement sand.”

Your nose scrunches. “It was pretty detrimental to us.”

“Yeah, it was.” He breathes, insulted. “Who does that?”

“Samantha T.”

“Samantha T.” He affirms.

It’s quiet after that. Quiet besides the buzz of the overhead lights. They flicker and glow.

He takes your warm face in his hands. “You feeling better?”

You nod, leaning into the touch. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head.

You’re calm now. The world isn’t spinning. Rafe feels he’s done his job pretty good.

#outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe Cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine

676 notes · View notes

wlntrsldler · 4 months

Text

now i see daylight | part ii: treacherous

song: treacherous by taylor swift

series description: set after lust conquers all, jamie returns to richmond and takes accountability for treating you like shit.

warnings: language-- it's ted laso, what did ya expect?; bff!sam, touch starved jamie and reader, A LOT OF ALCOHOL, richmond himbos

pairing: jamie tartt x f! reader

word count: 2054 words

series masterlist | main masterlist

When the whistle was blown for full time, the cheers in the arena were deafening. You couldn’t hear yourself think and everything seemed to slow. You stood behind Roy, clutching your camera, as you watched the sea of red and blue storm the field. You were only snapped out of your thoughts when Will jumped on your back, hugging you from behind.

“We’re moving up!” Will screamed behind you, beaming from ear to ear. “Come on, Y/N, let’s celebrate!”

You placed your camera on one of the seats under the tent and tossed a jacket over it. You followed Will into the middle of the field where all of the coaches, players, and fans were celebrating.

“Dani Rojas you legend!” You yelled, running toward Dani. He grinned at you, picking you up by your waist to spin you around. “I am so fucking proud of you!”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he put you down, holding you by your shoulders. “You will come to the after-party, yes?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

You made your rounds with all of the players. Most of them were so excited, they couldn’t say anything but, “Let’s goooooo!” Colin threw an arm around you and walked you over to Sam, who you still hadn't seen because of the chaos. When Sam saw you, he ran to you, smiling so wide you were sure his cheeks hurt.

“Y/N! Can you believe it? We are back in the Premier League!”

“I believe it. I knew you guys could do it.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he hugged you tightly. “Are you coming to the after-party? Please tell me you will. I can pick you up.”

You tutted, “Samuel, I will be there but you are not driving tonight. You deserve to get absolutely trashed.”

“Agreed, mate.”

There was that accent again. You turned around to see Jamie, glowing under the lights. Ever since the day he cornered you in the hallway, he made do with his promise. He didn’t bother you again unless it was for work. You’ve been more courteous to him. You no longer ignored his “good mornings,” or “how are ya’s,” but you still kept your distance. However, your resolve was slowly fading. Being around him again made you remember why you were so drawn to him in the first place. With him being a different version of himself now, it increased that attraction tenfold.

Sam looked between the two of you and smirked, walking away discreetly. He’s noticed the small smiles on your face whenever Jamie would come around. You tried to hide it, but Sam knew you too well.

You turned your body to look at Jamie, shyly looking at him. Jamie met your eye, eyes twinkling in a way that you haven’t seen since the last night you shared with him. He had a boyish smile on his face. You pursed your lips, trying not to let a smile slip, but you were unsuccessful. Jamie’s eyes got brighter, which you didn’t realize was possible.

“Great job, Jam.”

Jamie let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding at the sound of his nickname leaving your lips. He bit his bottom lip, stretching his hand out for a handshake, “I appreciate it, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and smacked his hand away. You walked toward him and pulled him into a hug. Jamie froze in your arms for a second before melting into the hug and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You didn’t realize how much you missed him until you felt his arms tighten around your torso. It was like you finally got a taste of the thing you were craving for months as if there was nothing else in the world that could’ve made this moment sweeter, better.

Your hand made its way to the back of his neck, where you cradled the back of his head, fingers softly tugging on his hair. It was muscle memory, how you used to cuddle him on his couch all those months ago. Jamie sighed into your skin, his warm breath awakening you from the trance you were under, causing you to pull away.

Both of your faces were flushed when you pulled apart. Jamie cleared his throat, looking down at his feet, before vaguely motioning somewhere as if there was something requiring his attention. You did the same, leaving to go in the opposite direction as him.

You turned around and saw Keeley with a smirk on her face, arms crossed with a knowing look. “World must be ending, I suppose?”

Blushing, you shoved her lightly, “Shut up.”

In true Captain fashion, Isaac rented a giant party bus for all of the players and a few special guests, including you, Keeley, Roy, and Will. The bus was taking all of you to a club in London that Isaac bought out for the night to celebrate the win and promotion. Roy, who should know better now that he was a coach, denounced his coach-ship before he stepped foot on the bus, stating that tonight he was “going to have the fucking time of my life!”

When you walked into the bus with Sam, you were hit with the sound of a club beat. Players were already a few drinks in from the bottles of beer and liquor scattered around the bus. Jan Maas was holding onto the pole, laughing as he fist-pumped to the song. Richard had a bottle of red wine in his grasp, which you later saw had a sticker on it that said “Property of Richard Montlaur.” Colin and Isaac were in the corner singing into a bottle of gin when “Hotel Room Service” by Pitbull started playing.

Sam was pulled from you by O’Brien who made him take shots. With you both being the last two the team was waiting for, the bus lightly jerked as it began its journey to London. The entire team cheered, raising bottles in the air.

You laughed as you tried to make your way around the bus, trying to find a friendly face that wasn’t too far gone. You knew all of them would regret this in the morning. You turned to your right and found Jamie and Dani sharing a bottle of tequila, laughing at something that you’d later learn was not that funny.

“Y/N!” Dani yelled when he saw you. He scooted over on the leather bench, leaving a space next to Jamie for you to occupy. “You are here!”

“I am!” You replied, shaking your head at how far gone the boys already are and you’ve barely even left Nelson Road. “How you guys feelin’?”

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” Jamie replied, taking another sip from the bottle. He handed it to you, which you took. You drank some and grimaced when the strong taste hit your tongue.

The two boys laughed as you passed the bottle to Dani. Dani stood up, holding onto the pole that Jan Maas was holding earlier, and began to make his rounds in the bus. He kept offering the bottle to anyone he saw. You couldn’t help but laugh at how they all took the bottle from Dani, despite not liking tequila.

“‘M glad you’re here.”

Your attention focused back on Jamie, who was staring up at you. His eyes were clouded, eyelids droopy. You playfully punched his shoulder, “How are you already drunk?”

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows, “You and Sam were so late. We had to get started without you lot.”

“We were thirty minutes late.”

“A lot can happen in thirty minutes.”

You snorted. It made Jamie smile. He bumped your knee with his. You looked at where your bodies touched. Your breath got stuck in your throat. You swallowed, “I guess I need to catch up.”

“Damn right,” a lopsided smirk graced his lips. He dug behind him in the ice bucket and pulled out a bottle of Clase Azul. He handed it to you, “Go on then.”

“Menace,” you replied, grabbing the bottle from him. Your fingers brushed, sending shocks throughout your entire body. “You know I can’t say no to good tequila.”

“Yeah, that’s why I bought it,” he shrugged, opening a beer. “I bought it for you. Nearly broke Bumbercatch’s arm when he tried to open it earlier.”

“Jamie, this is an expensive bottle of tequila.”

“Yeah well, Coach wouldn’t let me buy the whole team PS5s as a sorry, but he didn’t say anything about buyin’ you expensive liquor.”

You were sure that Jamie was only saying this because the alcohol was clouding his better judgment. He probably won’t remember this in the morning, or at the very least, he’d wonder whether or not this was real life or just something his mind made up. You opened the bottle and took a long swig from it.

As good as the tequila was, you still grimaced, frantically searching to find a chaser. Jamie, who remembered your drinking habits, held out a cup of Diet Coke. You downed the entire cup, sighing in relief when the taste of tequila was masked by the sugary drink. “Thanks, Jam.”

“Missed you callin’ me that,” he admitted, a look of longing on his face. “Missed you in general, to be honest. Been hell without you in my life.”

“Jamie,” you started, turning your body to him. “You’re drunk so I suggest you stop talking.”

“Am I makin’ you uncomfortable?” Jamie asked, concern on his face. He sobered for a moment, blinking back as if he was trying to figure out what he just said.

“No, no,” you assured him, placing a hand on his thigh. He tensed under your touch, letting out a shaky breath. You were really close to each other now. “You’re not making me uncomfortable. I just don’t want you to say anythin’ you’ll regret in the morning.”

“Don’t think that’ll happen,” he said, nonchalantly. He took a sip from his beer, trying not to move too much in fear that you would remove your hand from his thigh if he did. Hesitantly, he started drawing figure eights with his pointer finger on your hand that was touching him. He let out a breath when you didn’t pull away. “Been regrettin’ not saying anything to ya. Should’ve told you how I felt that night. Or any night after that, really. I was just bein’ a prick ‘cause I was hurt that Richmond let me go.”

You stayed silent. You didn’t know what to make of his words. Was he talking about the night you told him how you felt? Surely not. What does he mean by tell you how he felt?

Jamie continued, “And the thing was, I knew Richmond had no say in whether or not I was goin’ back to Man City, but it still hurt, I guess. Woke up to a text sayin’ I had to go back to Man City from my agent. Not even a text from Ted, or Keeley, or you. Thought I didn’t mean nothin’ to any of ya, so I just shut everyone out.”

“And it’s real shit of me to do, ain’t it? Especially how I treated ya. I don’t blame you for not forgiving me or giving me a second chance.” He stopped drawing on your hand. He drank from his beer again. You looked at him. He had a small and nervous smile on his face. Testing his luck, he brought a hand up to touch your face. “Shame I fucked it all up really ‘cause you’re the only person I ever actually wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Jamie–”

“Come on, party animals!” Isaac yelled from the front of the bus. Somehow the top five buttons of his shirt became undone during the drive. He slung an arm around Will, who had a tie wrapped around the circumference of his head, “Let’s get iiiiiittttttt!”

The bus erupted in hollers as players trickled out of the bus. Sam, who was giggly under the influence, found you next to Jamie. Jamie, seeing that Sam was there to walk you out of the bus, waved goodbye to you and caught up with Bumbercatch. You held the Clase Azul bottle close to your body as you threw on a fake smile, walking off the bus with Sam.

part i: don't you

part iii: daylight

#ted lasso #ted lasso oneshot #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso series #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x yn #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt series #jamie tartt oneshot #frances writes #frances song fics #now i see daylight

155 notes · View notes

sebastianstanisahotmf · 4 months

Text

First 'date'

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N Sorry for not being active I've just been spending time with friends and family but I'm back now! Also, this is going to be a series but idk how often I will update it.

THIS IS NOT AN 18+ FIC BUT I STILL FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS SO PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Summary You and Bucky go on a first 'date'

DO NOT REPOST ONTO ANY OTHER APPS/WEBSITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff

You couldn't remember the last time you felt so nervous. You were getting ready for a date with James (or Bucky as he tells you to call him.) You met him on a dating app and were texting for two weeks before you decided to go on this date.

As well as feeling nervous, you also felt excited to meet Bucky. He seemed so sweet over text and judging by his profile picture, he was the hottest guy you had ever seen.

You could only hope he was like this in real life.

“Can I come in now?” your friend, Ella, shouted from the other side of your bedroom door.

“Yeah,” you shouted back.

Your so-called ‘date’ was more of a meeting at a coffee shop so you were wearing a slightly oversized shirt, your favourite jeans, and a pair of black sneakers. You had minimal makeup on and your hair was styled in a way that made you feel confident.

You and Bucky are anxious people and agreed that a coffee shop would be a much more calming environment when meeting each other for the first time.

“Do I look ok?” you asked Ella.

“You look amazing y/n!”

“Really?” you questioned.

“You're going to a coffee shop, not a Michelin-star restaurant,” Ella told you.

“Ok,” you took a deep breath, “I’m ready.”

You grabbed your bag off your bed and made sure you had everything you needed.

“I'll see you later,” you told Ella.

“I'll see you later if you don't end up getting laid.”

You rolled your eyes and left the apartment you shared with Ella.

The coffee shop was a five-minute walk away so you weren't in a hurry to get there.

—------------------------------------------------------

Once you got there you scanned the shop and your eyes landed on the man sitting at the table in the corner. You could only see the back of his head but he was dressed in all black and that's what Bucky told you he wore.

You cautiously approached him so as not to scare him.

“A-are you Bucky?” you asked.

The man turned around and smiled at you, “I am.” he replied.

“Thank God, if you said no I was gonna be so embarrassed,” you walked over to the chair across from him and sat down.

“How are you today?” he asked, cringing at the question.

“I was a little nervous earlier but I feel better since you seem to be in a similar state,” you responded with a chuckle.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

“Just a little bit, but you don’t have to feel bad about it,” you assured him.

You looked at the table where his hands were resting. You noticed the black gloves but didn’t say anything, you knew who he was but weren’t sure if he knew that and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You didn’t see him as a bad person or a villain. You did your research on him a while back and you could’ve never blamed him for his actions, he didn’t have control of himself at the time.

He seemed so genuine and kind, nothing like the monster the government made him out to be. You started to speak about how your week had been so far and you thought it was funny how Bucky spoke about his friend Sam who he seemed to love and hate at the same time.

“Do you want to order now?” he asked you.

You just nodded in response.

“If you want I can order for us,” Bucky offered.

You told him your order and thanked him for ordering for you. He got up from his seat and walked over to the counter to order. He told the barista the drinks he wanted and paid. As he was waiting for the drinks he looked over to you and smiled.

You returned his smile and butterflies erupted in your stomach. You tried to calm your nerves by looking at your lap.

A few minutes later, Bucky returned with the drinks and sat back down.

“Thanks,” you told him, “you didn’t have to buy my drink for me.”

“It’s the least I could do doll,” he told you with a smile.

You both continued to get to know eachother even more until the barista came over to tell you that closing time was in 5 minutes.

“So I guess that’s the end of our date,” Bucky chuckled, “ I hope I wasn’t too boring.”

“Hey, don’t put your self down, I had a good time,” you gave him a small smile.

You said your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

-----------------------------

As you walked through the door of your apartment, you were bombarded by Ella.

“So how did it go with Bucky?” he wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“It was really good, I hope we can go on another date, maybe to a restaurant next time,” you told her with a smile on your face.

Ella squealed and pulled you further into your apartment.

You were about to go into the livingroom when you heard the notification sound on your phone go off.

“Who is it?” Ella inquired.

“It’s Bucky,” you replied, clicking on the notification, “He wants to go on another date!” you almost shouted with excitement.

“Fuck yeah, my bestie is finally gonna get that D.”

“Calm down, you’re more excited about me having sex with Bucky then I am,” you laughed.

The rest of the night was spen watching movies whilst eating snacks and telling Ella everything about your ‘date’ with Bucky.

If you want to be tagged whenever I post a fic then click on the link

If you want to see what I repost, my other account is @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

Taglist:

@nicoline1998enilocin @buckys-wintersoldier @kenzs-world @booscherripop @hisredheadedgoddess28 @kandis-mom @cutedisneygrl

145 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 6 months

Text

Love by heart

Summary: Can you and Dean work things out? What about Sam?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, a/b/o, arguing, insured Sam

Catch up here: Omega by nature

“Sammy?” you whisper as the tall hunter is still out cold. The shifter got him good. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it wasn’t Dean. It’s just, that we got so comfortable at the bunker that I never thought an enemy would be able to enter it.”

“Y/N,” Dean sighs deeply. He gently places his hand on your shoulder, making you flinch. “Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you. I know it’s a little too much to bear. I cleaned the bunker and got rid of the shifter.”

“It’s all my fault.” You hide your face in the palms of your hands. “I should’ve known better. I’m a hunter, an experienced one. How could the monster trick me into believing it was you? You want to mate me. Hilarious!”

You start to laugh uncontrollably. “Y/N,” his features soften, and he softly whispers your name. “It’s not your fault but mine. Shapeshifters are sneaky bastards. They tricked me and Sammy years ago too.”

“Maybe I wanted to believe him, Dean. If I can’t have the real Dean, I want to have the second-best thing. An exact clone,” you sniffle. “At least this one didn’t hunt me with a hammer.” You chuckle this time. “Demon Dean on the loose was something else.”

“We’ve been through a lot together,” he runs his hand over your back. “You’re the strongest woman I ever met. No one can compare to you. Not my mother, not one of my friends, or any lover I had.”

“You only try to make me feel better,” you wipe your wet eyes. “It’s fine. Really. Please stop pitying me. I know that a woman like Cassie is more your taste. Finding the right mate is hard and maybe, I only wanted you because you were always around.”

“Sammy was always around too,” Dean argues. “Stop pretending that you didn’t hide your presentation from me to keep me from claiming you.”

“I did not! I hid my presentation since I presented,” you snap at Dean. “This had nothing to do with you, but my father and brother. I was born and raised in a clan of hunters. They had no use for an omega. A beta was fine. But an omega got abandoned and left behind.”

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he regrets his harsh words when you choke out a sob. “All these years I made you believe that I don’t want you because I was scared of hurting. Loving a Winchester is a death sentence. Look at my mother, Jess, Lisa, and Sarah. They got killed or hurt because of us. I didn’t want the same to happen to you.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying! I tried to protect you.” Dean yells back. “Stop accusing me of being a liar. I’m anything but a liar!”

“You only rejected me because of my presentation. If not you would’ve crawled between my legs years ago! I simply didn’t do it for you!” You jump up from your seat to glare at Dean. “Admit it! Say it out loud. You’re nothing but a knothead.”

“Watch your tongue, Y/N!” Dean breathes in your face. “You should remember your place in the food chain.” He backpaddles when you backhand him.

“I dare you to say shit like that to me ever again DEAN WINCHESTER!” You growl in his direction. “No man talks like that to me and walks away with intact balls!”

“Oh, when it comes to your balls you want me to be nice?” You snarl at the alpha. “You started this by changing the way you see me only because I’m an omega.”

“You want to hurt my balls?” His hands shoot toward his crotch to protect whatever he’s hiding in his pants. “Sweetheart that’s not nice of you to say.”

“I did not! I-“ He huffs. “It’s just…you are an omega, and we could’ve been together all this time. I went through the worst ruts because you were around, but I couldn’t touch you. I was so scared of hurting you with my knot!”

“Liar, liar your pants are on fire,” you sing-song, and stick your tongue out. “Whatever kept you from being with me wasn’t fear. It was your knot!”

“Exactly!” He says. His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.” Dean curses loudly and grips the backrest of the chair you were sitting on earlier. “Fuck. You make me lose my damn mind one day, omega.”

You shudder as Dean addresses you with your presentation for the first time. “You are one to talk!”

“Do you know why the shapeshifter came here?”

“I guess he wanted to kill Sam and me. We are most wanted, on top of the list of every monster,” you shrug.

“No,” Dean shakes his head. “He only came here to get you. That monster couldn’t fight his instinct because he stole my identity. He remembered every single thought I had of you. And he felt what I felt. Need. Want. Lust. Possessiveness. Lust…”

“You said lust twice,” you grumble and cross your arms over your chest. “This doesn’t count!”

“Well, lust is important,” he smirks. “He wanted you because I want you. Luckily I came here just in time before that sonofabitch got the chance to touch you.”

“I could’ve defended myself.”

“I never once doubted that you’d defended yourself just fine.” He growls. “Can you stop arguing about everything I say? I tried to tell you that I love being there for you and to protect you. I still have nightmares of my time as a demon.”

“The hammer?” You challenge. “At least the demon had a thing for me too. Even if bringing a hammer for a date is a bit too much.”

“You hit me pretty hard with that baseball bat if I recall right,” Dean snaps back. “It felt like you tried to kill me!”

“I had to defend myself against a knight of hell!” You and Dean snarl and growl at each other.

“Guys, I appreciate you are trying to talk things out, but can you do this outside of my room,” Sam says. “I got attacked by a shifter and still got a terrible headache.”

“Sammy!” Dean and you gasp. “Sorry, Sam. We were about to…” you trial off. “Uh-you know. Dean and I will talk things out later.”

“Good.” Sam slowly sits up. “I only had to get myself almost killed to make you talk.” The hunter looks at you and his brother. “Please for the love of fuck. Go out there and do something against this tension going on between the two of you…”

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x omega!reader #a/b/o

241 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

sophisticatedmanro-blog

sophisticatedman

abismowho

Hasta La Madre

click42agency-blog

토큰룰렛사이트👴 http://can99.xyz 👴클립가입【

manlyman-hs

Dogs are better than you ever will be

iblamebioware

Just... Chaos