#sam monroe x reader

[ceoofsammonroe]

Constellations - Sam Monroe

Summary: You move in next door to Sam and the two of you quickly become friends. It doesn’t take Sam long to realize that he’s falling love with you, but he would never risk losing the only friend he has by telling you.

Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, angst, public humiliation, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), nipple play, soft sex, mention of past drug addiction, George lived, mention of cancer, reader lives with her brother, use of cringe nicknames (sorry i’m a sucker for a cheesy nickname), inexperienced!Sam, bullying, praise, crying, Sam is insecure.

A/N: this one is more of a short story than a one shot, so be warned it is veeeeery lengthy.

Masterlist

Sam felt like a fucking stalker.

He wasn’t, really. He swore. He was just…curious.

He’d been staring at the big moving truck parked next door for the past hour, trying to work up the courage to talk to the girl moving boxes in and out of the house that had recently gone off the market.

It was rare for Sam to see a new person that was around his age — one that didn’t know about his less than stellar past. He’d given up a long time ago on trying to change the people he went to high school with’s minds about him, but someone new…that could be exactly what he needed.

If he could work up the fucking courage to actually make a move instead of creepily watching from his bedroom window.

It would be fine. He’d just go downstairs, walk outside, introduce himself, and ask if he could do anything to help. He could be totally normal and definitely knew how to talk to pretty girls…right?

In reality, what did he truly have to lose? It wasn’t like he currently had any friends. If he got rejected, he’d just be right back to where he was now — hiding out in his room that, in retrospect, he maybe should’ve made a little bigger when helping build the damn house.

No, this would be good. He needed it to be good.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, feeling your shirt sticking to your skin as you grabbed another ridiculously heavy box out of the moving truck.

You’d spent the last hour distracting yourself by fantasizing about all of the different ways you could kill your brother when he got back for leaving you to do all of the, literal, heavy lifting by yourself. It felt like the boxes were never ending and you couldn’t fathom how you’d had this much stuff at your old apartment.

Your body groaned in protest as you set the box down inside before, begrudgingly, going back out to retrieve another. You glared at the traitorous truck — that was starting to feel more like an endless Mary Poppins bag than a moving van — and reached for the next box. As you pulled it loose, it caught on another box and sent it tumbling to the ground — scattering clothes all across the pavement.

“Shit,” you cursed, setting the other box down with a frustrated sigh.

You bent down, fighting against your burning muscles and grumbling under your breath as you began to gather the items that had fallen out.

“You need a hand?”

Startled by the sudden voice behind you, you quickly whirred around. You huffed out a breath, laughing sheepishly as you took in the sight of the stranger who’d offered his help.

He looked young, probably about your age, and he was cute. Really cute. His shy smile held a boyish charm and he had the prettiest blue eyes you’d ever seen, matching the tuft of vibrant blue hair on the top of his head. His labret piercing glinted in the sunlight as he seemed to nervously chew on his lip.

“That would be nice, thank you,” you said, a grateful smile pulling at your lips.

Sam felt his face warm at the sight of your smile, his stomach erupting with…whatever was manlier than butterflies.

“Don’t mention it,” he shrugged, extending his hand toward you. “Name’s Sam, by the way. Like ‘Sam I am’. The whole, ‘I am Sam, I am Sam, Sam I am.’ You know…Dr. Seuss…or whatever.”

Sam closed his eyes, silently cursing himself for whatever idiotic blabber had just fell from his mouth. He had one simple task. He just needed to introduce himself and he managed to bring up Dr. Seuss for fuck’s sake? It wasn’t even like Sam was a complicated name that needed explaining. He was pretty sure the name had been around for forever, like, even in the Bible.

He was about to turn around and retreat back to his room and pretend he’d never made this pathetically embarrassing attempt in the first place, but then he heard the soft sound of your laughter.

You took the hand of the awkwardly charming boy, shaking it as you said, “Nice to meet you, Sam I Am.”

You told him your name as well, save for the in depth explanation. He smiled and softly repeated it, blushing even deeper when he realized he’d been shaking your hand for far longer than socially acceptable. He pulled his hand away, brushing it on his cargo shorts as he looked at the mess of clothes scattered about.

He wordlessly started helping you pick everything up, stealing a few obvious glances at you as he did. You couldn’t help but watch him, feeling a warm endearment blooming in your chest. He was clumsy and awkward, but in a cute way.

“So, uh, did you just move here or something?” Sam asked, breaking the silence. “I mean, I know you just moved to this house because of the moving truck and all, but…”

You giggled and nodded, cutting him off and saving him from another embarrassing ramble as you said, “Yeah, my brother and I just moved here from a few states away.” You glanced over at the house he’d walked over from, admiring it for a moment. “That one yours?”

Sam looked back at the house, as if having to doublecheck that it was indeed his house before nodding.

“Yeah, it’s mine,” he said, picking up the box after setting the last piece of clothing inside of it and handing it to you. “Well, it’s my family’s. I actually helped build it. My dad and I built it together. I guess my mom technically helped, but it was mostly me and my dad.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you whistled, lowly.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” you told him, grinning as he blushed and shrugged it off. “Really, I can’t even make a decent sandcastle. You built a whole house. So, are you going into architecture or something?”

Sam nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips as he said, “Yeah, it’s what I’m going for. I’m a student at the local community college. It’s lame, but I like building things.”

“It’s not lame,” you said, shaking your head. “I mean, how many of the other architecture students can say they’ve already built a house?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground as he laughed. “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, his sheepish smile growing. “Are you gonna be taking any classes?”

You nodded, hoisting the box you were holding onto your hip as you said, “I’ll be starting out there next week for Summer B.”

Sam’s face seemed to light up at the confirmation that you’d be going to school with him. He cleared his throat, trying to mask his excitement as he nodded.

“Well, if you need anyone to show you around or anything, just let me know,” he shrugged, trying his best to play it cool. “I know starting in a new place can be scary.”

You smirked at him, taking the box toward your front door as you said, “Don’t worry, Sam I Am. I don’t scare easy. Thanks for the help, by the way.”

Sam felt his heart race at the stupid nickname, enjoying it way more than he probably should.

“No problem, anytime,” he waved, watching you retreat into the house. He felt a tug in his chest at the idea of your interaction being over and couldn’t stop himself from calling out after you. “If you need any help with the other boxes, I’ve got nothing better to do!”

You stopped, biting your lip to suppress a grin as you turned back around to face him. He stood there, looking ridiculously eager and hopeful. You glanced toward the other boxes still piled high in the moving truck before looking back at him.

“Yeah, alright,” you nodded. “Make yourself useful.”

Sam’s face broke out in a beaming smile as he practically ran to the moving truck to grab a box. You giggled as he hurried to join you, looking far too happy about the prospect of carrying heavy loads back and forth.

As you worked, you both chatted and got to know each other. You told Sam about where you and your brother were moving from and how you’d ended up there. Sam told you about how his parents had gotten back together and how his dad was in remission for cancer.

Talking with Sam made the grueling task of unpacking seem easy and fun. Time was flying by without you even realizing it. You were naturally drawn to him, fitting into motion like you’d known him your whole life.

Sam was over the moon. He felt like he’d finally found a friend that he could be himself around. There was an unexpected sense of hope creeping into his chest and, for the first time, he didn’t feel repulsed by it.

“Well, I think that’s officially the last box,” you sighed, placing your hands on your hips. “I’ll save all of the hard shit for my brother to do when he gets home, since he left me to do all of the moving.”

Sam brushed his hands off on his shorts, glancing around at all of the boxes now piled high in the living room.

“Well, if you need any more help or just want to get out of the house, I’m right next door,” he offered, wanting to make himself available for you.

“I know where to find you,” you said, grinning at him. “Thanks for the help, again, really. I’ll see you around, Sam I Am.”

Sam bit back the giddy laugh that threatened to escape his throat and gave you a small wave as he all but skipped back to his house. He hadn’t felt this good in years — like something was finally going in his favor.

Your brother returned a bit after Sam left and, after an annoying amount of begging and pleading from him, you spent the rest of the evening unpacking together.

“I met one of our neighbors today,” you told him, brushing some dust off of a picture frame and setting it up on a table. “He was nice.”

“He?” your brother asked, giving you a pointed look.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “Not like that. He just helped me with the boxes. I think he could be a friend.”

You smiled at the thought of Sam as you went up to your freshly unpacked bedroom. You walked over to the window, looking at the house next door. Your smile grew as you saw Sam’s window directly across from yours. You made eye contact and gave him a small wave before shutting your blinds and getting ready for bed.

As you laid there, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

At the start of the next week, you were getting ready to begin your first day of classes at the local community college. As you made your way outside, you noticed Sam leaving his house at the same time.

You skipped over toward him, leaning against his car with a cheeky grin.

"Howdy, neighbor," you chirped. "Think I could catch a ride to school?"

Sam's face broke out into a wide, beaming smile as he spotted you, wasting no time in opening the passenger door of his car for you.

"Hop on in," he told you, gesturing his head toward the car.

You happily climbed into the passenger seat as Sam walked around the car and got in from the driver's side. You bit back a giggle as he rushed to try and tidy up some of the trash strewn about, a light blush warming his cheeks. His car smelled faintly of smoke, but you didn't mind. As he turned the key and the car roared to life, the sound of a grungy rock song started blaring through the speakers. He sheepishly turned it down, muttering a soft apology.

As he started driving, he stole secret glances over at you. You were watching the scenery rolling by, still trying to familiarize yourself with the new area.

"So, first day, huh?" Sam said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Nervous or excited?"

You thought for a moment before you shrugged and answered, "Both? I like new beginnings. It's a fresh start."

Sam nodded, his voice sounding a bit distant as he said, "Yeah, I get that."

He seemed to disappear inside his head for a moment, but you didn’t feel like it was your place to pry. At least, not yet. Instead, you glanced toward his bag and asked, “Is that a sketchbook? Are you an artist?”

Sam blinked a few times, as if shaking himself out of it, before looking back at the black leather book sticking out from his backpack.

“Oh, uh…I wouldn’t really call myself an artist,” he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just like to draw sometimes.”

You looked over at him with a playful grin. “Can I see some?”

When Sam saw your hand reaching for the sketchbook, he blurted out a panicked, “No!” You retracted your hand and he paused, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “Sorry…I just, um…they aren’t any good.”

Settling back in your seat, you playfully shrugged and said, “Keep your secrets, Sam I Am.”

You navigated the first half of your day at the new school with relative ease. People had been eager to help you, fascinated by the rarity of a new person in the small area. You shared one class with Sam and got to grab lunch together, with him insisting on getting pizza down the street instead of eating whatever the campus cafe was offering.

When the day ended, you walked toward the parking lot with a group of students that had been talking your ear off. You laughed along with them as your eyes scanned the area, finally landing on Sam. He was leaning against his car, trying to act like he hadn’t been watching you.

You bid your goodbyes to the others and jogged over to Sam, smiling as you said, “Thanks for waiting on me.”

“No problem,” he shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way his heart was racing. “So, uh…any plans for tonight?”

He didn’t want you to feel obligated to hang out with him, but he also secretly hoped you would. He felt a sense of happiness around you that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He didn’t want that to end.

“I’ll probably just stay in for the night,” you sighed, feeling the effects of the day wearing on you. “I need the night to process all of the new. I could use the company, though, if you aren’t doing anything.”

Sam’s face broke out into a dazzling grin, relief and a thrill of excitement running through him. He tried to reel it back in, to lessen the visible excitement, but it was no use.

“I’d be down for that,” he nodded, trying his best to sound nonchalant. “If that’s what you want.”

Sam parked his car in his driveway and the two of you walked over to your house. When you opened the front door, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted beneath your noses.

Your brother, Andrew, was in the kitchen, pulling a tray out of the oven. You grinned, tossing your bag over your shoulder as you ran over and stole one off of the tray.

“Hey!” Andrew whined, reaching out to try and snatch the cookie back. His eyes locked over onto Sam, narrowing slightly. “Who’s this?”

“Andrew, this is my friend, Sam,” you said, gesturing between the two. “Sam, this is my brother, Andrew.”

Sam swallowed thickly and reached out his hand, a little unsure of himself. He didn’t often extend pleasantries with anyone, but he felt the need to in this case.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, forcing a nervous smile onto his face. “Thanks for having me over.”

Sam held his breath as Andrew stared him down for a long, tension-filled moment before shaking his hand with a grin.

“Nice to meet you, too, kid,” he nodded, stepping back to the tray of cookies. “Don’t let my sister give you a hard time.”

You batted your lashes innocently and said, “Me? Never.”

With a cheeky grin, you snatched as many cookies off of the tray as you could manage and bolted up the stairs. You heard Sam mumble an apology to your brother before following after you.

Up in your room, you shut the door behind you and handed Sam a cookie. He took a bite as he walked further in, glancing around at all of the decor.

Sam felt like he needed to drink up every little detail, knowing each small thing was giving him more information about your personality. He walked over to your bookshelf as you flopped onto your bed, taking a bite of your own cookie.

His fingers trailed over the spines of one of your collections, pulling a few out to look at the covers before placing them back.

“You have a lot of poetry,” he observed, holding a copy of Emily Dickinson publications. “You really into it or something?”

You nodded, smiling as you answered, “Yeah, I love poetry. I think it’s incredible how people can weave words and thoughts together to make such beautiful statements.”

Sam listened to you speak, happy for a furthered glimpse into your world. That’s how he found himself, an hour later, sitting beside you on your bed as you talked about anything and everything. He felt comfortable with you, like he could relax in your presence. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to.

“So, what’s your deal with this town, Sam I Am?” you asked, rolling over to prop your head in your hands as you looked at him. “I didn’t notice you talking to anyone other than me today. Are you going for the whole mysterious loner vibe?”

Your tone was lighthearted and joking, but you were genuinely curious. Sam had kept to himself the entire day, and you’d noticed people giving him odd looks. It was almost like they didn’t like him for some reason.

“Yeah, I guess I sorta keep to myself. Things haven’t been easy here, and I’ve had a bit of a rough past. I’m still dealing with the fallout, you know?” Sam replied, picking at the bottom of his jeans. He didn’t elaborate further, afraid of scaring you off and ruining his one shot at a real friend. “Things have been better lately. You’re helping with that, actually.”

You could tell there was more to it, but you didn’t press for details. Sam seemed like the kind of person who didn’t open up often and you didn’t want to ask for too much too quickly. Instead, you kept the conversation lighter, talking for a while longer.

Eventually, you ended up watching a movie. It was some shitty cable action film, but Sam seemed to be invested. The long day had caught up to you, and you started to doze off.

Sam tensed up as he felt your head rest on his shoulder, but he didn’t dare move. He released a shaky, slow breath as he tried to relax, feeling his heart pounding against his chest. All thoughts of the movie were forgotten as he focused on the feeling of you curled against him. He didn’t know how long he sat there after the credits rolled and the screen went dark, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and end this temporary moment of bliss.

As it got later, he knew he couldn’t stay. With great reluctance, he gently lifted your head and laid it against the pillows before easing off of the bed. He took one last look at you, smiling as he felt his heart constricting in an unusual way before he turned and walked out of the door.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed with the vague memories of falling asleep mid-movie. Begrudgingly, you got up and ready for the day before bounding down the stairs to the kitchen. You hopped onto one of the stools in front of the island, greedily grabbing at the plate of breakfast that Andrew sat down in front of you.

“Care to tell me why the neighbor boy was leaving your room at nearly one in the morning?” Andrew asked, pretending to be stern.

You rolled your eyes, snorting as you stuffed a piece of toast into your mouth.

“We were watching a movie and I fell asleep,” you told him, jumping down and grabbing your bag. “He’s just a friend, Drew. Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

You stuck your tongue out and him as you walked out the front door and he flicked you off in response. You jogged outside, making your way over to Sam’s house where he was waiting by his car.

“Morning, neighbor,” you said, cheerfully hopping into the passenger side. “Sorry I fell asleep last night. Did the movie have a good ending?”

Sam smiled at you, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway. You sniffed the air, noticing the smoke smell had been replaced by the scent of a new air freshener and the trash had been cleaned out.

“Yeah, it ended well. The hero got the girl and everyone lived happily ever after, blah blah blah,” he joked, giving you a playful look.

In all honesty, he couldn’t really tell you how it ended. He’d been too focused on you to pay any attention to the rest of the movie. He sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that, though.

When lunch time rolled around, you both sat together at the table under the oak tree that you’d liked the day before. You’d insisted on getting lunch from the cafe, claiming that you needed to try the campus food at least once. Now, though, you understood why Sam had protested against it.

“Any plans for tonight?” Sam asked, giving you some of his fries as he took your pickle spear.

“No, I don’t think I have any—”

“Hey, new girl!”

You turned, your words being cut off by a group of students sitting at another table. You recognized them from yesterday. They beckoned you over, giggling and whispering to themselves as one of them said, “Come here for a sec!”

You glanced back at Sam, giving him an apologetic look as you said, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Sam nodded, giving you a brief smile that fell the moment you walked way. He kept his head down, forcing himself to keep eating his lunch as a pit of jealousy began to form in his stomach. He tried not to worry, knowing he had no right to your time.

When you finally came back to the table, he tried to be casual as he asked, “So, did they just wanna say hi or something?”

“They actually invited me out with them, tonight,” you said, grinning happily. “They’re going out to the pier and wanted me to tag along. That’s exciting, right?”

Sam saw the excitement in your eyes, but couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment and dread.

“Cool. That does sound fun. I’m happy for you,” he replied, forcing a smile onto his face.

He wanted you to be happy, but he also wanted to keep spending time with you. You were the first real friend he’d had in a long time. He knew he couldn’t be possessive over you, but he hoped you wouldn’t be pushed apart by this new social circle opening up for you.

“We’ll catch up later,” I told him, nudging his shoulder softly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Sam I Am.”

The evening had been fun. You’d gotten along well with the group you went out with. They filled you in on the ins and outs of the town and everyone in it — including Sam.

You hadn’t really listened much to what they’d had to say about him, brushing their words off. Other than that, the night had gone by without any problems. When you finally made it back to your house, you said goodnight to your brother and went upstairs to your room.

When you walked by your window, you noticed Sam through the window of his own room. You grinned, opening it up and climbing out to sit on the roof as you waved at him.

Sam hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you all afternoon. His mind had been a whirlwind of fears and doubts and self ridicule for missing you so much when he’d only just met you. When he spotted your figure out on the roof, his heart had skipped a beat.

He quickly got out of bed, opening up his window and climbing out. “Hey,” he called out, waving back at you.

The edges of your roofs were close enough that he could jump over onto yours with little effort. He sat down beside you, feeling the cool evening breeze against his skin.

“Did you have fun?” Sam asked, wanting to hear about your night even though a part of him was still nursing jealousy about your time with the popular crowd.

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun,” you said, smiling at him as you tucked your knees up to your chest and gazed up at the stars. “It’s so beautiful out here; isn’t it? I never saws the stars like this back home.”

Sam nodded in agreement, looking up at the night sky as well as he said, “It really is. I love nights like this, when it’s quiet and all you can hear are the waves.”

He tried, he really did, not to bring up the subject again, but he just couldn’t help himself. His self-sabotaging curiosity was getting the better of him, and he asked, “So, are you going to hang out with them more often now?”

You shrugged, picking at the roof as you said, “Maybe. They want me to.” You looked back over at him, leaning closer to nudge his side. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll always make time for you.”

Sam smiled and ducked his head to hide the soft blush warming his cheeks. Your gentle reassurance sent a flicker of relief through him.

“I wouldn’t want you to stop hanging out with me,” he said, softly, “but you don’t have to choose. I just want you to know that you have a friend in me, no matter what.”

He’d been guarded for so long, and this was the first time he’d felt like someone could break through his barriers. The more time you spent together, the more he realized he never wanted to go back to the way things were before he met you.

“You see that group of stars right over there?” you asked, pointing to a small cluster. “Do you know what constellation that is?”

Sam leaned over, squinting as he tried to follow your line of sight. He stared at the spot, but eventually shook his head.

You laughed quietly and said, “That’s ‘cause it’s not one. It should be, though, right? It makes the perfect image of a bundle of flowers. So, I decided to make it one myself. I call it Wildflower. It’s my favorite constellation.”

Sam looked up where you indicated, admiring the cluster of stars you’d dubbed Wildflower. “It’s beautiful,” he said, impressed by your creativity. “It makes sense. It really does look like a bundle of flowers.”

You both sat in silence for a while, staring up at the stars and listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. You thought back to the evening you’d had, hesitating to even bring it up at all. Ultimately, you decided it would be best to talk about it.

“Hey, when I was out with that group tonight, they…mentioned some things about you,” you said, softly. “Like, drugs and other things… I didn’t entertain them or anything and I shut them down immediately, but I just wanted to know if you knew what they’d been referring to.”

Sam’s heart sank, hearing that the group had spoken about his past. He knew all too well the rumors and whispers that followed him, some completely ridiculous and some…much too true. His jaw clenched as he felt the familiar dread of isolation creeping back up on him.

“Yeah, it’s true,” he said, his voice low. “I’m clean now, though,” he added, finally meeting your gaze. “I turned my life around and I plan to keep it that way.”

You took a moment, processing his words. You could see the sadness in his eyes, the pain and regret. You hated that he was still so plagued by his past.

“The way I see it,” you started, giving him a small smile, “the past is the past for a reason. All that matters to me is who you are now, and that guy seems pretty cool.”

Sam let out a soft breath, blinking quickly as the sting of tears threatened his eyes. He felt a small weight fall off of his shoulders as he smiled at you.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “That means more to me than you know.”

Over the next few weeks, your friendship with Sam continued to grow. He still took you to campus every morning and you ate lunch together every day — unless the other group drug you away. Sam spent most afternoons at your house, even bonding with your brother. Andrew had started making an extra plate of breakfast for him every morning and expecting him at dinner every night.

One Friday night, you’d been getting ready to go out with the other group that had brought you into their circle. When you heard a knock at the door, you’d thought it was one of them. Your face fell with immediate concern as you opened the door to see Sam, tears streaming down his face.

“Sam, what is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, immediately stepping aside to let him into the house.

He stumbled through the door, gasping for air through the sobs as he tried to steady himself. “I don’t know what to do,” he cried, his voice breaking.

He explained that his father, who you knew had been in remission from cancer, had taken a turn for the worst. He felt helpless, like he was having to face the thought of losing him all over again after finally feeling like they were on solid ground.

“My mom’s freaking out and I need someone to help me keep it together,” he continued, looking at you with desperate, pleading eyes. “Please.”

Sam felt utterly raw and vulnerable, but he knew he could trust you. He needed you. He needed your light to wash away the darkness that was creeping up on him again.

“Oh, Sammy,” you sighed, feeling your heart break as you reached out to him. “Come here.” You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam’s body trembled as you embraced him, his arms immediately snaking around your waist as he buried his face in your hair. His tears soaked through to your skin, but you didn’t mind.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, hiccuping slightly as he gripped you tighter.

“He could still be okay, Sam,” you reassured him, rubbing his back. “People with health issues have backslides all the time and still get better. It’s good that the doctors caught it in time. I can’t promise that it will work out, but I can promise to be here every step of the way. You won’t go through it alone.”

Sam pulled away, despite his longing to stay in your arms forever, and wiped at his eyes. He was too overwhelmed to be embarrassed by the thought of crying in front of you.

“Thank you,” he said, letting out a shaky breath. “You’ve been a good friend.”

“You’ve been a good friend, too, Sam I Am,” you smiled, reaching up to wipe the remaining tears from his cheeks. “The best friend.”

You gently grabbed his arm, leading him over to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you looked around until you spotted the plate wrapped in foil.

“Andrew isn’t here to cook,” you told him, “but I can heat up some left overs, yeah? You need to eat.”

Sam smiled at the use of his nickname, a small comfort in the midst of the turmoil. “Best friend, huh?” he echoed, a hint of shyness creeping into his tone.

He watched with appreciation as you warmed up the food, finally taking the time to realize how hungry he was. He ate dinner with you, grateful for the small sense of familiarity after a day of such uncertainty.

“You can stay here tonight, if you want to,” you offered, washing the dishes after you’d both eaten. “You can borrow some of Andrew’s clothes to sleep in.”

Sam thought about denying the offer, insisting that he’d be fine, but he couldn’t. He needed the support and there was no use in trying to act tough.

“I’d like that,” he said, softly. “Thank you.”

He changed into the clothes you’d given him as you went up to your room and pulled back the covers. You got in the bed as he lingered in the doorway, unsure of what his next move should be.

“You can sleep in here,” you told him, patting the space next to you. “I don’t mind and I’ll punch Andrew in the stomach if he has anything to say about it.”

Sam hesitated, glancing between you and the vacant space on the bed. Cautiously, he slowly walked toward you as if he was waiting for you to change your mind. He climbed onto the bed, leaving a respectful distance between the two of you.

His body tensed as you pulled him into your arms, holding him close. He rested his head on your chest, relaxing as he listened to the steady thrum of your heartbeat. You ran your fingers through his hair and his eyes fluttered shut.

The only thing he was certain about in the current maelstrom of uncertainty was that he never wanted to be anywhere else.

Over the next month, Sam’s dad made a recovery. You’d stayed by Sam’s side throughout the entire process. You’d gone with him to visit his dad in the hospital and got to know his mother. Sam had blushed furiously as they told you stories of Sam as a child and how he’d called his pajamas his Sammy Jammies. You’d let him stay at your house on nights when he didn’t want to be alone, and Andrew hadn’t even tried to protest it.

Things were better now, more lighthearted. You were sitting at your usual table under the oak tree for lunch and you were curiously watching Sam as he doodled in his sketchbook.

“What are these grand secrets you keep in that book of yours?” you asked, tossing a fry at him with a laugh. “It doesn’t matter how many times I ask, you never let me see what you’ve been drawing.”

Sam grinned, dodging the flying fry, and closed his sketchbook as he slid it under his seat.

“They’re personal, nosy,” he teased, shaking his head.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” you sighed, huffing dramatically.

The group that you hung out with occasionally walked past your table, waving at you and glaring at Sam. One of the guys, Nathan, lingered back. He smiled at you, giving you a flirtatious wink before sauntering off after them. A warm blush tinged your cheeks as you looked down at your food.

Sam observed the interaction, keeping his expression neutral despite the familiar twinge of jealousy he always seemed to feel when it came to you. He knew he had no right to feel that way, given the nature of your relationship, but the instinct was there nonetheless.

“So, any plans for the weekend?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Uh…I’m not sure, actually,” you said, awkwardly picking at the food on your plate. Noticing Sam’s confused expression, you added, “Nathan sort of asked me to go on a date with him, is all. I don’t know if I’m gonna go, though.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to process the information. “Oh,” he said, trying to keep his tone even.

His emotions were a whirlwind. Surprise, concern, and — he couldn’t deny it — a hint of disappointment. He reminded himself that you were free to date whoever you chose, but he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of possessiveness.

He didn’t know how to respond, unsure of whether or not he should voice any opinion on the matter. Instead, he focused on his food. Deep down, he hoped you would choose him over Nathan, but he knew it was a pipe dream.

The tension hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable, as you both sat in silence.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I might go,” you said, quietly. You glanced up at Sam, feeling a sudden sense of vulnerability. “Do you think I should?”

Sam debated whether to offer his opinion, but ultimately decided against it. “It’s up to you. If you think you’ll enjoy it, then go,” he replied, noncommittally.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” you said, a bit dejected by his answer. “I guess I’ll go, then.” You smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You got up and grabbed your bag, starting to walk toward your next class. “I’ll see you after school, Sam I Am.”

Sam watched as you left, your response weighing heavily on him. His thoughts were consumed by the prospect of your date for the rest of the day. The idea of you with someone else bothered him more than he cared to admit. The green-eyed monster of jealousy was rearing its head once more.

Despite his conflicting thoughts, he knew he’d have to put on a brave face. You meant too much to him to jeopardize what you had. He was grateful for your friendship and, while part of him harbored deeper feelings, he knew that it was too late to cross that line.

On Saturday night, you sat in the car with Nathan as he drove you home. The date hadn’t been horrible, but it hadn’t been what you expected either.

He pulled up to your house, parking the car as he turned toward you. A half-smirk pulled at his lips before his face resembled that of a dead fish as he leaned toward you. Your eyes widened as you realized he wanted to kiss you.

“I had a great time tonight,” he whispered, pressing his lips to yours.

There was no spark, no butterflies, no magic.

You pulled back, smiling politely at him and thanking him for the date before getting out of the car.

You climbed the stairs to your room, opening the window and crawling out onto the roof. You threw tiny stones toward Sam’s bedroom, trying to get his attention.

Sam had been lying on his bed, wallowing in self-pity as thoughts of your date ate him alive. When he heard the thud of the rocks, his heart leapt into his throat. He opened his window, smiling before climbing over to join you.

“I just had the weirdest date of my life,” you laughed, rubbing your face with your hands. “He took me to this restaurant and literally just stared at me the entire time. It was like he didn’t know how to have a conversation. I tried talking to him about all sorts of things and he just…looked at me. Then, I suggested we go for a walk on the beach and he said he didn’t like sand. Sand! We live in a beach town and he doesn’t like sand. Not to mention he kissed me when he dropped me off and there was just…nothing.”

Sam listened intently as you recounted the evening, his heart swelling with relief as you described the lackluster nature of the date.

“Sounds like it was a bit of a dud,” he commented, his tone sympathetic.

He wanted to tell you how he felt, to share the depth of his emotion and how he saw the magic in you, but he held his tongue. It wasn’t his place to make such a move.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, draping his arm over your shoulder as you leaned into him.

Sam felt a surge of gratitude for the moment, for being the one you chose to confide in. He realized he would always gladly take the role of your friend, even if it meant sacrificing the chance of something more.

“No,” you huffed, resting against him as you looked up at the sky. “Anyone who wouldn’t watch the stars with me isn’t worth ranting about.”

A few weeks later, you and Sam were sitting in your room as you were pleading with him to come with you to a party.

“C’mon, please, Sam?” you begged, pulling at his arm. “They want me to go, but I’ll be so bored without you.”

The group you were friends with had invited you to a party at Nathan’s beach house, but you didn’t want to ditch Sam to go to it.

“It’ll be good for you to get out and socialize for once,” you told him. “Plus, it’s right down the road so we could leave anytime we wanted to.”

Sam hesitated, a mix of anxiety and curiosity warring within him. “I don’t know. I’m not really into parties,” he replied, shifting his weight from leg to leg.

He was used to keeping to himself. The only person he hung out with was you. The thought of entering a crowd of people that he barely knew was daunting, especially when they seemed to have some sort of vendetta against him.

He didn’t want to ruin the evening for you, but the thought of facing Nathan and the others made him hesitate. However, in the end, his loyalty and desire to make you happy won out.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go with you,” he conceded, offering you a small smile, “but if things get bad, I want out. Deal?”

“Deal!” you squealed, wrapping your arms around him. “Thank you, thank you!”

You buzzed around your room, continuing to get ready. You liked socializing and enjoyed going to parties, but you didn’t like sacrificing your time with Sam to do so. This would be the best of both worlds.

Sam took a moment to admire you, the way you moved and smiled with such infectious energy. He felt a surge of pride in knowing you valued his company above all else.

As you left for the party, Sam’s apprehension lingered. It was tempered a bit by the knowledge that you’d be by his side. When you approached Nathan’s beach house, Sam prepared himself for whatever was in store.

The house was already loud and crowded as you walked in, the music blaring over the chatter of people. You grabbed Sam’s arm, dragging him into the kitchen and handing him a cup of soda. You poured yourself one of whatever liquor was on the table and downed it in one go.

Sam chuckled, touched by the fact that you’d remembered he was sober. He smiled in appreciation, grateful for the small gesture.

As you mingled, Sam found himself slipping into the background and observing the party around you. He spotted Nathan across the room, whose gaze was lingering on you before snapping over to Sam with disdain. Sam could feel the animosity and tension simmering between them, an unspoken tangible weight in the air.

You, however, seemed to be enjoying yourself. You were laughing and conversing with everyone, making Sam smile. Your happiness was his priority.

Making your way back over to Sam, you grinned and said, “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

As you said that, two of Nathan’s friends ran into us. They both apologized, one of them placing his hand on Sam’s backpack.

“Don’t mind them, they’re just drunk,” I told him, rolling my eyes.

“No, not so bad,” he said, trying to believe his own words.

He couldn’t help but feel uneasy, like something was off, but he didn’t want to take away from your fun. Instead, he decided to grin and bear it. If it made you happy, that’s all that mattered.

You were about to make Sam go dance with you when Nathan got the attention of the crowd, standing up on his couch. Everyone gathered around as he made an announcement.

“Attention, folks, I’ve got your entertainment for the evening,” he said, a sadistic smirk on his face.

You felt your blood run cold as he pulled out Sam’s sketchbook. His friends must have snatched it when they ran into him. Sam immediately moved forward, but the two guys grabbed him to hold him still.

“Nathan, what the hell are you doing?” you yelled. “Stop and give that back!”

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” Nathan chided, wagging his finger. “Don’t you want to see what your little lover boy has been keeping from you?”

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion as Nathan grinned.

“Exhibit A, the brilliant works of the freakish stalker,” he said, beginning to flip through the sketchbook.

Your eyes widened as a soft gasp escaped your lips. They were all drawings of you. From times spent on the roof, watching the stars, to sitting at your lunch table, to watching movies together. He’d even drawn you from the first day you met.

“Looks like you’ve got a not-so-secret admirer,” Nathan joked, making the crowd laugh.

Sam’s heart plummeted, a mix of anger and embarrassment welling within him. He fought against Nathan’s friends, but their grip was firm.

As the crowd gathered, Sam could feel the weight of their scrutiny. The words freakish stalker hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the humiliation churning in his chest.

The laughter of the crowd stung like salt to an open wound, leaving Sam to wonder if you’d see him differently now that his feelings were laid bare. He clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to snatch the sketchbook back and leave.

“Wait, we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” Nathan cheered, flipping to the final page.

There was another drawing of you with the Wildflower constellation. On the page, Sam had written some words.

“The freak thinks he’s a poet now. How romantic,” Nathan taunted, turning the book around to read the words out loud.

“If I am the stars, you are the sky. I can only shine in the vastness of your presence. If I am the moon, you are the sun. Your light reflects upon what was once barren. If I am the earth, you are the wildflowers. I bloom when graced by you.”

Your heart stopped as Nathan read the poem Sam had written. The laughter from the crowd was overpowering. You felt like you couldn’t move. Everything was happening to him in a blur and you felt powerless to stop the cruelty.

“I guess little lover boy wears his heart on his page, huh?” Nathan joked, smirking at Sam. “Might as well run away while you can, freak. She’s never gonna reciprocate your little crush.”

Nathan’s friends let Sam go, shoving him back with a laugh.

Sam’s ears filled with a ringing, the crowd’s laughter a cacophony that left him feeling dazed and hollow. His face burned, his chest tight as he fell to the floor.

The denial of a possibility for a mutual connection felt like a dagger to the heart. Sam’s mouth worked soundlessly, unable to form the words that begged you to see past the humiliating spectacle.

In that moment, he couldn’t fathom how to navigate the murky waters of your relationship. The fallout of the night left him unsure of where you stood. He got up on shaky limbs, feeling unsteady as he pushed through the crowd and bolted out of the front door.

You watched Sam storm out, your heart shattering as he did. Your eyes scanned the crowd, rage burning within you as you glared at Nathan. You rushed up to him and grabbed Sam’s sketchbook from his hands.

“Fuck you!” you yelled, chest heaving as you looked at all of them. “Fuck all of you! You’re all sick and pathetic and cruel.” Your gaze zeroed back in on Nathan as you seethed, “You will never be even half the man that Sam is.”

You turned on your heel and ran out of the house, trying to find Sam. You spotted him down on the beach, rushing toward his house as he furiously wiped at his face.

You hurried after him and called out, “Sam! Sam, wait! Please!”

Sam felt the sting of rejection and humiliation trailing in his wake, the knowledge that he’d exposed his heart to the scorn of others weigh heavily on his shoulders.

As he trudged along, his fingers tightened around the hem of his shirt. The fabric smelled like you and he wanted nothing more than to find comfort in your embrace, but he knew he couldn’t. Not anymore.

Sam walked until he couldn’t escape the call of your voice anymore. He paused, torn between the desire to confront the situation and the urge to escape the cruelty and mortification that had fallen on him.

With teary eyes, he turned to face you as his heart pounded in his chest. He searched for the words to convey his feelings, to explain the torrent of emotions that had laid waste to the tender, private world he had crafted for you.

You caught up to him, breathless from running, and felt your heart ache at the sight of him. He looked utterly devastated and you hated that you couldn’t save him.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” you breathed, the guilt washing over you like the ocean waves. “I had no idea they would do that. I had no idea they were capable of such cruelty. I never would’ve hung out with them if I’d known.”

You held out his sketchbook for him, looking down. You were afraid that he’d hate you for putting him in this position.

“I got this back for you,” you said, quietly.

Sam excepted the sketchbook, cradling it to his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, too scared that it would be the last time he’d get to.

“Those drawings…the poem…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “They’re really good. Incredible, even. You’re very talented…but, are they…do they mean…?”

Sam nodded, a stray tear dripping from his cheek as he lowered his head and whispered, “Yes.” He shook his head, sniffling and wiping his face. “I never meant for you to see them. I’ll stop if you want me to, I won’t…”

“Stop?” you asked, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “Sam, nobody has ever seen me the way you do. Those drawings are beautiful. You drew my constellation. You wrote me a poem.”

You walked closer to him, gently cupping his face in your hands and wiping away the teardrops on his cheeks.

“I knew from that first day I met you that you were different, Sam,” you told him, gazing up into his eyes. “You had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen…and, now, I know you have the prettiest heart. It would be an honor to get to hold it in my hands.”

Sam froze, your touch a balm to his wounds. He felt strength return to his limbs, your words like a soothing salve. He searched your eyes for any sign of dishonesty, hardly daring to hope that what he was hearing was true.

“Do you…mean that?” he stammered, unsure if he deserved such acceptance.

“I wanted you to tell me not to go,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. “When Nathan asked me on that date, I wanted you to tell me not to go because…I wanted to be with you.”

Sam gasped softly, his eyes flickering with disbelief. You stepped closer to him, pressing your body against his as you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him.

Sam froze in shock for a moment before melting into you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer.

Kissing Sam was like nothing you’d ever felt before. His lips left you breathless. When Nathan had tried to kiss you, you’d felt nothing. With Sam, you felt everything.

Sparks, butterflies, magic.

Your eyes fluttered open to gaze at him, a grin growing on your face as you bit your lip and grabbed his hand. You pulled him through your yard and to your front door, opening it as quietly as possible. You held a finger up to his lips, giggling softly.

“My brother’s asleep,” you whispered, quietly pulling him up the stairs.

Sam followed you like a giddy puppy. He still couldn’t believe the turn of fate that had been dealt to him. His heart swelled with joy and an inexplicable rightness.

As soon as your bedroom door was shut, your lips found his again. Sam’s head was spinning as you kissed him, a yearning hunger bubbling to the surface inside of him. Your fingers ran through his hair, a feeling that was so familiar yet so new. He didn’t want to come up for air, didn’t want to spend a second apart from you.

You pulled back for a moment, gently guiding him toward your bed. You gazed at him with desire-filled eyes, softly pushing him to lie back. Slowly, you climbed on top of him to straddle his hips.

“Let me make it all go away, Sammy,” you whispered, kissing the corners of his mouth. “Let me help you forget.”

Sam felt a shudder run through him — the weight of his past, the lingering shadows of regret, and the ghosts of addiction, pressed into submission by the warmth of your presence.

He parted his lips, his chest heaving with anticipation as you leaned over him. Your words were a siren call, luring him to the safe harbor he’d sought out for so long.

Sam let out a soft, shaky breath as he nodded his head. He gently grabbed your face, pulling you back in for a slow, sensual kiss.

Your tongues danced with each other as your mouths moved in tandem. You tugged at the silky strands of his hair, slowly rocking your hips against his.

Sam moaned into the kiss, his hands tightening in the fabric of your shirt. Your kisses were now laced in a fiery desperation, his hips arching to seek more. You kissed across his jaw, brushing your lips against his ear as you breathlessly asked, “Is this okay?”

His hands gripped your hips as his head fell back, exposing his neck for your attention. His breaths were strained, his hips shifting beneath you as he nodded, “Yes. More than okay. Please, keep going.”

You grinned, taking the hint and kissing a slow trail down the side of his neck. Every time your lips brushed a sensitive spot that made him shiver, you took the time to suck a deep purple mark into the pale skin. You soothed the areas with your tongue before continuing your descent.

Sam shivered and mewled, unable to control the soft noises leaving his lips. His skin felt like it was on fire, in the best way possible. His stomach tightened with the arousing thrill of being claimed by you, his neck now a tapestry of your affection.

His hands slid under your shirt, his fingers working the fabric upward as his eyes met yours in a silent question of permission.

You pulled back and tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it to the side before discarding your bra as well. You leaned back over him, grinning at the way his eyes locked onto your chest with boyish excitement.

“Have you ever done this before?” you asked, making his eyes snap back up to yours.

“No,” he answered, his cheeks tinging a soft pink. “At least, not like this. Not when it’s mattered.”

A flicker of his haunted past flashed through his eyes, but quickly melted away when you kissed his forehead.

“We can take it slow,” you reassured him. “I’ll guide you through it. You can tell me what you like and don’t like, okay?”

Sam nodded, feeling the anxiety dissipating as he gazed up at you. He lifted his arms, letting you pull off his shirt. You grinned at the sight of the hickeys marking his skin, tracing your finger over them. He squirmed beneath you, a soft whimper sounding in his throat.

“Don’t worry, Sammy,” you murmured, kissing his chest. “You’ll get what you want. We’ve got all night. There’s no need to rush.”

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut, the reassurance that this wasn’t fleeting sedating his restlessness. His heart pounded beneath your wandering lips, his muscles tensing as you played with the button on his jeans.

“Please,” he breathed, his voice a needy whisper. “Take them off.”

You didn’t hesitate to comply, hooking your fingers beneath the waistbands of his jeans and boxers before pulling them down his legs. You gasped softly as his erection sprang free, licking your lips as you admired him.

“You’re so pretty, Sammy,” you praised, wrapping your hand around his length to slowly stroke him. “So, so pretty.”

His face warmed with a deep blush at your praise, a bead of pearly white leaking from his rosy tip. He let out a shaky moan, muttering a quiet, “Oh, fuck.”

You smiled and cooed, “That’s it, Sammy. Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

You leaned down to press your lips against his tip, flicking your tongue around it to taste his arousal. Sam gasped, arching his back as his stomach clenched.

“A-ah,” Sam whimpered, gripping the sheets beneath him. “Please…”

You took him into your mouth as far as you could, feeling him brush against the back of your throat as you bobbed your head. Pretty mewls sounded from him as his legs moved restlessly. His chest heaved with exertion, his skin flushed a debauched red.

He whispered your name, his hips bucking involuntarily as he gasped, “I think…I’m getting close. Fuck.”

You pulled your mouth off of him, giving his tip one last soft kiss before trailing your lips back up his body. He let out a whine of protest, lifting his hips to try and chase your mouth.

You sat back and undid the button on your pants, removing the last bit of clothing that separated you before straddling him again. Sam’s eyes trailed over your body, his cock twitching at the mere sight of you.

“I wanted us to finish together, with you inside of me,” you told him, feeling the arousal dripping on your thighs. “Is that what you want?”

Sam nodded eagerly, moaning at the thought of being inside of you. “Yes, please,” he panted. “That’s what I want more than anything.”

His hands wandered over the curves of your body as you lined him up with your entrance. You slowly sank down onto him until you sat flesh against his hips. A sigh of pleasure left your lips as you felt him stretch you out, the delicious burn making you clench around him.

Your lips found Sam’s again as you began to ride him, lifting your hips to drop them back down. You both moaned into each other’s mouths, the scant space between you a mix of heat and desperation. You grabbed Sam’s hands, guiding them up to your chest.

“Touch me, Sam,” you breathed. “It’s okay. I want you to.”

Sam didn’t waste a second of the permission. His hands palmed your breasts, softly kneading them as he groaned. They felt perfect in his hands, his thumbs teasing the stiff peaks of your nipples.

You bit down on your lip, letting out a soft whimper as you moved your hips. Heat pooled low in your belly with each stroke of his cock inside of you.

As you both neared your peaks, Sam sat up and held you close to him. He thrusted his hips up in time with your movements, gazing up at you with pure adoration.

“Tell me you want me,” Sam whispered through shaky breaths, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I want you,” you breathed, feeling that knot beginning to unravel. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, Sam. Your pretty eyes, and your sweet smile, and your adorable laugh, and…and…Sam!”

With a cry of his name, you came undone above him. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you as you squeezed around his cock. Sam followed immediately after, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he moaned out your name.

You rode out your highs together, clinging to one another through the haze of pleasure. When you both came down, your skin was glistening with sweat as your hearts pounded in time.

Sam gazed up at you with a disbelieving, blissed out grin. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“You mean everything to me,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for giving me a chance to prove it to you.”

You shook your head, resting your forehead against his. “You don’t have to prove a thing, Sam I Am. My heart is already yours.”

Later that night, as Sam slept in your arms, you couldn’t help but admire him. Your fingers traced the delicate lines of his face before trailing down to his chest.

You noticed a few freckles above his heart, seemingly making out the shape of a star. You connected each dot with your finger, smiling softly.

That was your new favorite constellation.

[bettyvick]

do you think i’m pretty?

Sam Monroe x Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: You’ve been annoying your desk partner Sam since the classes started, so when you get detention because of you, he tells you everything he thinks.

Warnings: Blowjob (m receiving), dirty talk, curse words, praising, kissing, fighting, sexual explicit content.

A/N: I haven't seen Life as a House so this is me especulating.

Sam Monroe was tired of you. You knew it and you loved it.

You squeezed every drop of his anger out and drank it down, then asked him for more with a smile. For Sam you were like the devil, but with a pink skirt and pompoms. So when he got paired with you to sit together in chemistry class he wanted to kill himself.

What had he done that was bad enough to deserve that punishment?

But you were delighted, teasing him constantly, but without any bad intentions. It was innocent stuff, like hiding his notebooks in other students' desks, stealing his pens, or bending down to pick something up on the floor in front of him while wearing a short skirt you'd specially chosen for him. But it all drove him crazy.

When he would bump into you in the hallways would give you extremely threatening looks, but you would raise your hand and shake your fingers in the air greeting him.

Your friends from the football team wanted to tease him too, but with cruel things like putting a rat in his locker, but you always stopped them. You didn't want to go that far.

Now you were in class, the last class of the day. You were writing down some notes on a notebook with your pink pen with a kitten on top while Sam tried to keep his eyes open and not fall asleep. His gaze was on the floor, so you took the opportunity to pick up the black, spiked leather bracelet that was resting on the table and stuffed it into your backpack. You planned to give it to him later, but a little teasing wasn't a bad idea every now and then.

When the bell rang, everyone started gathering their things and leaving. When Sam was about to do the same, he realized his bracelet was missing.

—Where did you leave it?— he spoke with that angry tone. You smiled innocently.

—I don't know what you're talking about— you answered, fixing your skirt on your feet.

—You know exactly what I'm talking about, where's my bracelet?— he said now more aggressively. For a moment you got a little scared when he grabbed you hard by the wrist when you tried to turn around. —Where the fuck did you leave it?

—Auch! That hurts!— you exclaimed.

—Give it back!

—You two— the teacher spoke from her desk. Sam stopped the tussle but without letting go of your wrist. —you're getting detention, now.

—B-but Mrs. Henderson!— you tried to reply. —I have cheer training! And my friends are waiting for me!

—I don't care, you both are getting detention— she said with a serious tone and a severe expression. You moaned of dislike. Sam rolled his eyes.

—Thank you very much, cheerleader— he split sarcastic.

While you walked through the hallway you noticed that there was no one there. The school was empty. Mrs. Henderson took you to a different classroom and gave you a broom, yellow latex gloves, alcohol spray, and a cloth.

—When you are finished, come to the science lab, I'll be there. If you leave, I'll know and the punishment will be worse.

You were typing to your friends on your phone when she snatched it from your hands.

—Hey!— you complained.

—And no phones— then Mrs. Henderson left the room, closing the door after her.

You remained silent until Sam began grabbing the utensils the teacher had handed you. He tossed you the gloves and spray can while he grabbed the broom.

—Let's get to work, little princess— he said dryly, starting to sweep the floor.

—You’re crazy if you think I'm gonna wear this— you answered, taking the gloves with your fingertips.

—Well, you wouldn't have to wear them if you didn't act like a spoiled brat— Sam spoke looking at your eyes, a shiver ran down your spine.

—I’m not a brat— you reply frowning.

—Yes you are. You're a spoiled brat, mean, and a posh girl who thinks her father's money will get her everything she wants. Guess what? It won't. This is the real world, princess. Your pretty face and smooth legs aren't going to help you here. You should learn that your actions have fucking consequences, and if you act like a rude brat, you'll get detention and have to clean a fucking classroom in your free time instead of being able to go home and watch Sex in the City.

You let him finish his speech and looked at him with puppy eyes. When he stopped, he looked at you with a tense jaw and white knuckles.

—Do you think I'm pretty?

His body went limp and he shook his head in disbelief as blood rushed to his ears.

—Of all I've said, is this the only thing you've retained?— he asked, approaching you a little more.

—I retain the important things.

Sam analyzed your face, you were smiling showing your perfect teeth. He couldn't believe it.

—I think you're pretty too— you admitted interrupting the silence.

—Stop playing with me— he said with a lower tone, turning around and approaching the teacher’s desk.

—I’m not playing with you, it’s what I think, Sam.

It was the first time you called him by his name. He stopped walking and your eyes met.

—Why are you telling me this?

You walked until you were in front of him.

—Because I wanted you to know— you answered softly. All of his rage had disappeared, he didn’t know how but it did. You remained in silence for some seconds, your faces were separated only for a few centimetres. —Sam— you whispered but his lips were now on yours. The little piercing on his lips felt cold against yours.

His hands found your hips and yours found his chest. He pressed you against him, making you moan. That sounded delicious to him. The kiss took on an intense rhythm, with Sam biting your lower lip and his tongue sneaking into your mouth. Suddenly, he pulled away from you and you complained about the lack of warmth from his lips on you.

—I think it's time to punish you for teasing me for a long time— he spoke, running his thumbs over your lips. At this point, you were at his mercy, ready for anything. —On your knees— he ordered.

Your knees magically buckled and you fell to the ground in front of him. He gave a quick look at the door to check no one was there and took off his thick black belt that had a silver skull buckle. Then he unbuttoned his pants pulling them down to his knees along with his underwear. He was hard and your mouth watered.

—Open your mouth, princess.

Sam pushed it into your mouth slowly, trying to get you used to it. Although at first you felt a little nauseous, you started putting it in and out of your mouth.

—Shh, slowly, princess, we don't want you to choke.

He started doing some noises of satisfaction that filled the room. An obscene noise also came out of your mouth, it was similar to a splash. Your eyes were watering.

—That’s it— he whined while talking to you by the hair and penetrating deep on your throat, —now you're being a good girl. I love when you’re well behaved.

His comment made you moan, you could feel how the wetness between your thighs infiltrated on your panties and soaked the ground. You felt your clit swell.

—I bet you're making a mess down there, my little nasty girl. What would your friends say, huh? If they knew how you're sucking the guy they call loser’s dick.

You babbled nonsense, your mouth was full preventing you from speaking. Your knees hurt. Sam kept pushing inside faster, now growling and swearing.

—Just a little bit more, princess, you're doing it fucking good.

The grip on your hair felt deliciously good, sending a stream of pleasure directly to your sore pussy.

A minute later his warm cum was spread out all over your mouth accompanied by a gasp that came from the back of his throat.

Sam continued pushing for a few seconds more, slowly, while he moaned of pleasure. When he separated his cock, a white sticky thread joined his member of your mouth.

—Let me see it— he said, taking your chin between his fingers. You opened your lips showing the salty liquid sliding down your throat. —You've done very well, princess, it's about time you were taught some manners.

Your white stockings that slipped down to your knees were now dark and dirty. You stood up with Sam's help feeling your legs weak, both of your gazes found a wet transparent circle on the ground. Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment.

—Wow, so that's what I provoke you?— Sam smiled cockily as he handed you the cloth —Time to clean your mess, princess.

And then he gave you a gentle spank on the ass.

He never got his bracelet back, because now it was yours.

[hearts4sammonroe]

SAM MONROE who steals pens from us just so he could have an excuse to talk to us ✋️😞

pairing: classmate!sam monroe x reader

contains: fluff.

a/n: this is so teenage boy coded I love it 😭

divider credit: @diviniyae

Sam Monroe probably wouldn’t admit it, but he has the biggest crush on you. You’re honestly the only reason he drags himself out of bed every morning to come to school.

It started when he forgot his pen one day and asked if he could borrow one of yours since you had a huge collection.

Now, it was every day.

“Hey…psst!” He whisper-shouts from the desk behind you.

“What?” You hum, turning around.

“Can I borrow a pen?” He asks.

You look at his desk, seeing two pens sitting there already. “You have two pens right there?”

“Um… ink ran out. I need one of your blue pens.” Sam forces a smile.

“Yeah, okay.” You nod, not believing him but handing him a pen.

“Thanks.” Sam smiles, taking the pen from you, your fingers brushing against each other for a quick second. “I’m organizing my notes.”

“What notes?” You raise an eyebrow. There wasn’t a single note on his paper, just his name and the date at the top.

At this point, he had, like, 10 pens of yours in his backpack. He was stocked up on pens, he just wanted an excuse to talk to you. He was too awkward to think of any other excuse to use to talk to you.

He didn’t even pay attention in this class either. He just twirled the pen around in his hand, staring at the back of your head. Sometimes he’d gently trace your hair with the pen you gave him. But only doing it so slightly that you don’t even feel it.

It was a routine every school day. He looked forward to biology, just so he could ask for a stupid pen so he could talk to you.

Maybe one day, he’ll work up the courage to say something else.

taglist: @anakinstwinklebunny @haydenismyman @anisangeldust @cassielunaaa @madsluvsdilfs @mvst4far @divineani @alealuvshayden

[anisangeldust]

SEX LESSONS W/ SAM MONROE

“Okay so.. that’s the clit..?” Two of SAM MONROES big and uncoordinated fingers spread your folds, strings of your arousal clinging to your pinkish nub

You were sat with your legs apart, letting your boyfriend peak around your pussy. He was curious - bless him - and he wanted to know what he was doing. So after an embarrassing talk you assured him he could take a look and you’d answer his questions. “Yes baby, that’s the clit. It’s like.. your tip. When I’m horny it gets harder and sensitive.” Your lips quirk up.

“Ooohhhh..!” You could see the lightbulb in his head. “Ahh okay. That’s not hard to find at all!” His brows furrow and you giggle. His thumb comes up and he starts pressing and moving on it like a video game controller. Immediately you twitch and squirm.

You stop his finger and gently pull it away. “Not quite babe. It’s not a button. You have to play with it. Like this.” Taking your middle and ring finger as reference, gently rubbing the sides of your clit. You moan at your own gentle touch, even more so at the knowledge that your boyfriend was watching you.

Sam moved your hand out of the way “I got it..” he murmurs, almost petulantly. He takes the same two fingers and gently rubs your nub from the side, rolling and pinching gently while observing your reaction.

“Oh yeah.. mhm.. mmm Sammy..” you nod in approval, egging him on.

Sam beams at your gentle praise “I didn’t know you could get.. this wet..” he mumbles, eyes fixed at your arousal, licking his lips while you move your body in rhythm with his fingers.

You laugh a bit and lean back, letting your body relax into the pleasure. “That means you’re doing it right..” you giggle. It’s only a few minutes of Sam delicious stimulation before your egging him on to move faster.

“More..m’gonna cum..” your legs twitch and your body arches. Sam had never seen such a wonderful sight. He was drunk off the thought that you were about to cum from his hands, from his doing.

Your orgasm is small but satisfying. Exactly what you needed for a demo on your boyfriend rubbing your clit. Sam continues rubbing you through, your legs jerked and hips twitched “you can stop now!” You pull his fingers away from the overstimulation.

“Oh.. sorry..” he blushes sheepishly. Biting the inside of his cheek and looking between your pussy and his now slick fingers, he sucks is your arousal and cum off them.

You open your eyes and smile at his action. “How’s it taste?”

“Like.. cunt.” He smiles stupidly

“Well I’d sure hope so.”

[kb4g3]

Four moments

bf!sam monroe x gf!reader au

summary- in which Sam’s little brother lives with you two. the longer he’s there, the more Sam is convinced to have kids of your own

wc- 3158

warnings- fluff, foul language, kissing, smut (unprotected piv, breeding kink, fingering, grinding, dirty talk, sam being kinda aggressive (but not rly), cum, cream pie) lmk if I missed anything

Before you, Sam never batted an eye at the thought of having kids. After you, however, after all the things you had been through together. His mind started to stick to the idea of having a few little ones running around.

Recently, since you all had taken in his little brother, Adam, his mind started to wander further, somewhere deeper, darker. He thought about you pregnant, swollen with his babies. Pumping you full of them, whenever you’d allow, of course.

Four moments. Four moments that made his pants tighten, four moments that replayed in his mind daily.

~

1

You had put Adam to sleep hours ago. Now, you and Sam lie in bed, slowly drifting to sleep, when soft rapping pulls you from your daze. “(Y/n)?” Adam called.

You slipped from Sam’s arms and went to the door, opening it and allowing Adam to steal your attention. “Adam, honey, you're supposed to be asleep.” You scooped him up.

“Can’t sleep,” He yawned as you held him in your arms. “Can I sleep with you and Sam, please?” He pleaded, whining a little. His little head falls to your chest.

“Yeah, honey.” You ran your fingers through his dark hair and slipped back into bed. Your back was pressed against Sam's chest as Adam curled into your chest, clutching at your shirt. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, Sam's arms wrapping around you.

~

The next morning, Sam woke up to the sight of his little brother curled into your chest, clutching at your shirt in his sleep, your hands still wrapped around him.

“Baby?” He brushed some of your hair out of your face. “What's this?” His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against him.

“He couldn’t sleep,” You whispered, “He suckered me.” You let out a breathy laugh.

The sound of your laugh went straight to his core. The desire to make you mom fills him, “You'd be a good mom.” He subtly dropped his hint.

2

It was early, and you and Sam lay in bed making out. His rock n roll music was locking out the soft sounds of the morning. That soft tapping at the door again, Adam.

“Sammmmm.” He whined, “Please let me in, Sammmmm!” His knock never wavered.

You pulled away from Sam, his hands becoming tighter around your waist, pulling you back against him, "Don't, he’ll leave if you ignore him.” He protested.

You pulled Sam's hands away from you, sliding from underneath the sheets, and towards the door. When you opened it, Adam was sitting outside playing with his toy cars on the floor.

“What's wrong, honey?” You asked sweetly, kneeling next to him.

“M’Hungry,” he whined, “What were you guys doing in there? You took so long.” He drugged out the ‘so’ for effect.

You shook your head at his words, “You wanna go make some breakfast?”

He nodded rapidly, standing up just as quickly. He grasped your hand and pulled you towards the kitchen. Excitement was written all over his face. He let go of your hand for a split second to open the pantry and retrieve the waffle mix. He held it up in front of you like a prize. You nodded, taking the waffle mix in your hands.

Sam slowly shuffled into the kitchen, still partially asleep and rubbing his eyes. His messy hair stuck up in all directions, and he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants.

The sight that greeted him was both endearing and surprising - you and his little brother making breakfast together.

He leaned against the doorway, a sleepy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you both. "Well, this is a sight for sore eyes," he said, his voice rough with sleep.

You hummed, planting a kiss on his lips, “He was hungry,” you explained, adding a shrug.

Sam's sleepy frown instantly melted away at the sound of your voice and the feel of your kiss. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair. He pressed a kiss to your hairline, his eyes still half-closed with sleep. "What are you two making?"

“Waffles!” Adam squealed, throwing his hands in the air, some of the mix dusting his face and clothes.

A lazy smile spread across Sam's face as he heard Adam's excited response. He reached over and ruffled the little boy's hair affectionately, messing it up even more than it already was.

"Waffles, huh? Sounds delicious," he said, finally pulling away from you to pour himself a cup of coffee.

He leaned against the counter, watching you and Adam working together. The sight was incredibly domestic and heartwarming, despite his half-asleep state.

Once Adam had forfeited his mixing job, you took over. Finishing stirring the ingredients and pouring them onto the hot waffle maker. You grabbed some utensils out of the drawer, calling out to Adam, “Adam, honey, can you set the table?”

Sam watched as you handed the bunch of cutlery to Adam, instructing him to set the table. The little boy eagerly took the forks and dashed off to the dining table.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. You had a way with kids, always knowing how to keep them occupied and engaged. It was yet another thing he adored about you.

Sam pushed himself off the counter and moved to the cabinet to gather plates and napkins. "You're a natural with him, you know that?" he teased, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You should've noticed it earlier, really, the way he looked at you that morning as you ate. As if you sculpted the world, split the seas, like he was going to devour you.

3

Later that day, they all sat outside in the backyard, soaking in the California sun. You sat in a lawn chair, reading your favorite book as the boys played tag in the yard.

Your ears perked up at the sound of Adam's cries. The piercing noise immediately drew your attention away from the book you were reading.

You quickly set the book aside and got up from your seat. Your maternal instinct kicked in, and your heart skipped a beat with concern.

As you walked out into the yard, searching for the source of the commotion, you spotted Sam and Adam a short distance away. Adam was on the ground, clutching his knee and crying, while Sam knelt beside him, looking worried.

“Want (Y/n).” Adam cried as Sam tried his best to shush him.

“Adam, honey, what happened?” You knelt to him.

As soon as Adam saw you kneel next to him, he outstretched his arms towards you, tears streaming down his face.

"I-I fell," he sobbed, wincing in pain as he showed you his scraped knee.

Sam was crouched beside him, his hand resting gently on his back. A hint of guilt flashed in his eyes, likely feeling bad about not watching his younger brother closely enough.

“Okay, it's okay, honey.” You scooped him up in your arms, “Let's get you cleaned up.”

Adam clung tightly to you, burying his face against your shoulder, still crying softly. The pain of the fall and the fright of the situation had him shaken up, and he found comfort in the safety of your embrace.

Sam followed you inside, his expression still carrying a tinge of guilt. He knew he should've been more careful, but accidents happen, especially with an energetic kid like Adam.

As you headed to the bathroom, he walked alongside you, watching you soothe his little brother. You set Adam down on the counter, rummaging through the cabinets for the first aid kit.

As Adam sat on the counter, his small legs dangling and his tears slowly subsiding. He wiped his damp eyes with the back of his hands, still sniffling a little.

Sam leaned against the bathroom doorway, watching you rummage through the cabinets. His gaze was focused on you, silently admiring how natural caring for his little brother seemed to you. The sight of you taking charge and comforting Adam stirred a mixture of affection and trust in him.

“Here we go,” You stood back up, bandaids, Neosporin, and peroxide in your arms. You handed Adam the box of fun Band-Aids, and his eyes widened as he started digging through the box.

“Okay, honey, hold Sam's hand, this may sting a little.” You explained as you popped the cap on the peroxide, preparing to clean the scrape.

Sam immediately stepped forward when you gave the instruction, understanding the potential for some discomfort. He reached out and gently took Adam's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Squeeze as hard as you need to if it hurts," he told his little brother, his voice soft but firm. "I can handle it."

Adam nodded, albeit a little nervously, and gripped Sam's hand tightly in anticipation of the incoming sting.

“Okay,” You started, pouring the liquid over the wound. Adam's eyes widened as you poured the peroxide over his scraped knee, the liquid bubbling and fizzing as it came into contact with the raw, damaged skin. He couldn't help but wince and let out a small whine.

Sam squeezed his hand, trying to provide a comforting presence. "It's okay, buddy. Just a bit of a sting. Hang in there.”

“Okay, all done.” You chirped, drying the area off, applying the Neosporin and his ‘cool’ bandaid he picked out over top of the scrape.

As you finished applying the bandaid, Sam let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the immediate crisis was over. Adam's tears had dried, and the pain was being dulled by the soothing Neosporin.

The little boy looked down at his knee, admiring the tiger-themed bandaid that now adorned it. He wiggled his leg a bit, testing the mobility.

Sam ruffled his hair affectionately. "Looking good, little man."

You slipped your hands under Adam’s armpits and lifted him off the counter, “There you go, honey.” You patted his back before he ran off to play with his toys.

Sam looked over to you now, his eyes filled with love. “That was pretty motherly of you,” he smiled, his hands moving to your waist and pulling you into him.

Your arms moved to circle his neck, “Getting baby fever, Monroe?” You hummed, pecking his lips.

But this was far from baby fever. This was pure possession, something he had never felt before, sheer need fueling a fire deep within him.

4

The final straw was when they were invited to one of Adams' school friends' pool parties. Your body is clad in a skimpy black bikini, which already leaves little to the imagination.

You carried him out to the pool, Sam following closely behind you two. His presence was a constant, casual warmth at your back.

“Where are your floaties?” You asked Adam.

There was a flash of childish excitement in Adam's eyes at the mention of floaties. He loved being in the water, but he was too young to swim without some assistance.

He wriggled in your arms, trying to get down.

"Sam has them," he said, pointing towards Sam. You crouched down and let him slip out of your arms. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Adam dashed toward Sam. Sam chuckled, watching his little brother with fondness in his eyes.

Adam had busied himself with trying to put on his floaties with uncoordinated little fingers. “Adam, let me help you, honey.” You took the floaty from him, helping him in it. “There you go,” You said softly. Adam took that as his sign; he grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the pool.

Sam watched with open amusement as his little brother enthusiastically dragged you toward the pool, the orange ring bobbing in the water at Adam's side.

"Looks like he's got you hooked," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk as he followed behind.

“Maybe,” You smiled and pecked his lips.

Sam responded to the quick kiss with a lazy smile, his arm snaking around your waist as he murmured, "Can't blame the kid."

He pulled you closer, his hand possessively sliding across your lower back. There was a hint of possessiveness in his gaze, as if he wanted to remind everyone present - though mostly himself - that you were his.

“Sam, there are other people here.” You reminded, Adam had fallen back at your side, tugging at your arm.

The pool water was cool against your skin, a refreshing contrast against the summer heat. As you splashed into the water, Sam followed suit, wading into the pool up to his waist.

As soon as you were in the water, Adam was all over you, his small arms wrapping around your neck. He clung to you like a little koala, giggling and chattering a mile a minute.

Sam watched the interaction between you and Adam, that familiar possessiveness flaring in his eyes. It was obvious that his little brother had a strong attachment to you, much like how Sam himself clung to you whenever possible.

He found himself both amused and a bit jealous of how well you handled his little brother. It should be him clinging to you like that, not Adam.

"You're a natural at handling him," he commented, wading through the water to come closer. His eyes were focused on you, appreciating the way your wet hair clung to your skin and the swimsuit that left little to the imagination.

“Maybe this could be us one day.” You teased, not knowing the inner turmoil Sam seemed to be facing.

Sam's smirk deepened at your comment, his eyes locked on yours. He could feel that possessive flame inside him ignite further, the idea of having kids with you one day stirring an unfamiliar but intense emotion within him.

He moved closer, closing the distance between you, his hand finding your waist under the water. His grip was firm but gentle, a silent claim of ownership.

"You want kids, princess?" he asked casually, his gaze roaming over your features, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nodded, “especially if he’s as cute as you.” You smiled

Sam scoffed, trying to play it cool, but he couldn't help the smug look on his face. "You're damn right he'd be cute," he drawled, pulling you closer, his hand sliding to the small of your back. "And stubborn. Just like his old man."

He smirked, clearly enjoying the mental image of you carrying his child. The thought of you pregnant with his child, belly swelling with life, stirred a primal sort of possessive satisfaction within him.

“One day,” You promised.

"One day," Sam repeated, his grip on your hip tightening ever so slightly. There was a hint of determination in his tone, as if he were making a silent promise to make that day happen.

He couldn't deny the way his heart quickened at the thought of it - you, pregnant with his child, his family growing and thriving. It was a future he could very much get behind.

As you moved through the water to play with Adam, Sam lingered for a moment, watching you both with an affectionate expression on his face.

He loved seeing how well you got along with his little brother, how easy it was for you to engage with him and make him happy. It filled him with a mixture of pride and possessive desire - you were just so damn good with kids, and that made him want you even more.

Little did you know that the day you had promised was coming sooner than expected.

~

You and Sam had plans for your mother to keep Adam tonight, to get some well-deserved alone time with each other. You planned for a peaceful movie and dinner night, Sam, on the other hand, planned to get you pregnant.

As soon as they entered the house, Sam pounced on you. Kissing you with fervor as you made your way up the stairs. He nearly threw you on the bed, “Sam,” you gasped, “what's going on?” You asked in between kisses.

“So pretty,” He grinds down against you, “Treat Adam so well, need to be inside of you.” He started kissing down your neck, down the valley of your breasts, his hands sliding up and down your sides.

“Sam,” You moaned as he ground down against the thin fabric of your bathing suit. He continued to move down your body, untying the string of your bikini bottoms.

He slipped his fingers into your dripping pussy, “So wet for me,” He mumbled, his body moving up yours as he continued to finger you.

“Sam, need you.” You gasp, your hips bucking into his fingers. He untied his swim trunks with his other hand, and he let out a hiss as his erection sprang free against his stomach.

He slowly swiped his tip in between your folds a few times, tantalizingly slow, a primal need overtaking his body as he slipped into you. You gasped simultaneously at the pleasure. “Oh, fuck!” You moaned as he bottomed out in one quick motion.

Your hands reached around to his back, trying to find something to cling to. You looked up at him, his eyes nearly black. “You gonna let me fill you up?” He taunted as his hips started to roll against yours.

Your nails dug into his back, “Sam,” you moaned, “feels good, please.” You begged, mind going blank as he spoke. Your hips bucked into his again, your back arching off the bed. His hands immediately shot to your hips, pinning them to the bed. He fucked into you slow and deep, tip kissing your cervix with every thrust.

Your boobs bounced every time his pelvis became flush with yours, “M’gonna fill this pussy up.” One of his hands moves to your clit, “You're gonna be swollen with all my babies.” Your cunt fluttered with each word spoken, “Oh, you like that, baby? Want me to get you pregnant?” He teases.

“Sam, gonna come.” You moaned, your hand moving to the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He swallowed all your moans as you came hard, eyes rolling in the back of your head, pussy fluttering around him, panting against his mouth.

“I'm gonna come, baby, fill you up, make you a mommy.” He whimpered as he felt you clamp down on him, the pleasure becoming too much. His body went rigid as he spilled his seed inside you with a small, ‘fuck’.

They lay there, breathing heavy as they both came down from their shared high. “You mean what you said?” You asked, “You want me to have your kids?” You breathed.

He places his forehead against yours, nodding. “However many you're willing to give. However much this pretty body can make.” His hand slid down your stomach. “I love you, baby,” He whispered, leaning in to kiss you.

a/n- i feel like Sam would be so jealous of Adam. Anyways feast babies

[cherrylacuna]

Pierced With Need ˖𓍢ִ✧˚

Summary: When you show up at Sam Monroe’s place with a piercing needle and a reckless plan, you expect rebellion—maybe a little pain, definitely some trouble. What you don’t expect is for the boy who hides behind sarcasm and sketchbooks to unravel completely beneath you. A brow piercing turns into a slow grind, dirty talk, and the kind of explosive first time that leaves no doubt: you’ve crossed a line, and there’s no going back.

Pairing: Sam Monroe x female!Reader

Genre: Smut, angst, slow burn,

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Teen characters, grinding, Unprotected sex, Piercing scene (needle use, blood), Light dom/sub elements (reader in control), Obsession, possessiveness, emotional intensity, Language, Slight praise kink, slight degradation kink

The door slammed behind you with that familiar creaky groan, followed by the click of the deadbolt as Sam locked it without looking back. His house smelled like surf wax, weed, and teenage detachment—exactly what you expected from a guy who lit up behind the gym bleachers and pretended not to care about anything except sketchbooks and Nirvana CDs.

You kicked your shoes off by the stairs and dropped your bag with a thud, the sound echoing through the half-empty house. "Your mom gone?"

"Obviously," he muttered, pulling off his hoodie. It left his skinny frame in that torn-up black T-shirt you always secretly liked. It clung to him like a second skin, and you didn't miss the way it lifted just enough to flash a bit of stomach—pale and tight, like he never ate or never stopped burning energy.

"Don’t ‘obviously’ me, Monroe." You sauntered in behind him, eyes scanning the living room with mild interest. "What if she forgot something and came back?"

He gave you a smirk—half bored, half cocky—as he dropped onto the couch and sprawled out like he owned the whole damn house. "Then I guess you’ll have to hide in my closet with all my trauma."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. He always had to make it dark, didn’t he?

"You sure about this?" you asked, tapping the small velvet pouch you'd brought. Inside, the sterilized needle gleamed with threat and promise.

He reached up, brushing his hair out of his face, letting that messy fringe sweep back just enough to reveal where he wanted it—right through his brow. "She said no."

"You told me she yelled no," you corrected.

"Same shit."

You bit your bottom lip, watching him. There was something about the way he sat—legs spread, attitude defensive but eyes burning—that made you feel like this whole thing was less about the piercing and more about control. Rebellion. Intimacy. Something just a little too messy to say out loud.

"Okay," you said slowly, pulling the supplies out of the pouch and settling them on the coffee table. "But you flinch, I swear to God I’m doing both brows."

He snorted. "Kinky."

You gave him a look. “Don’t tempt me.”

He watched you with that unreadable gaze as you straddled his lap, the movement so casual, so practiced, like you’d done this before. Maybe not this exact thing, but something close enough—grinding on his nerves, getting under his skin, making it impossible to tell where the teasing ended and the wanting began.

You adjusted your black shorts as you settled on him, your tank top riding low. You knew what you were doing. He definitely did. His hands came to your thighs, firm and hesitant at first, then tighter when you leaned in to inspect his eyebrow.

“Relax,” you whispered. “It’s not brain surgery.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not about to get stabbed in the face by your hot friend.”

You glanced down at him. “Aw, you think I’m hot?”

“I think you’re dangerous.”

You dipped a cotton pad into the disinfectant and brushed it along his brow, slow and deliberate. “You’re stalling.”

“You’re sitting on my dick,” he deadpanned, grip tightening slightly on your thighs. "It’s distracting."

"Sounds like your problem."

He breathed out a dry laugh, jaw clenching a little as you traced the spot again, marking it with the fine tip of a pen. His eyes flicked down to your neckline and stayed there, shameless and heavy. You felt his gaze like a hot breath over your chest.

“You keep looking like that, and I will make it uneven,” you warned, voice just shy of a purr.

He smirked but said nothing, just squeezed your thighs again, fingers digging in, grounding himself. Your core pressed against his jeans with each tiny movement, and you could feel the tension coil between you both like a lit fuse.

You picked up the needle.

"Okay," you whispered. "Hold still."

The mood shifted instantly—air thick with nerves, heat, and adrenaline. You could feel his breath catch under you, his fingers twitching on your skin, his legs tightening beneath yours. You steadied the needle and positioned it right against the mark.

“Three,” you murmured. “Two…”

He sucked in a breath.

You pushed.

His hands flew up to grip your hips as pain sliced through him—but he didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just hissed between his teeth like he liked it a little too much. You kept your face close, your body flush against him, while the needle slid clean through.

"Fuck," he groaned low, voice rough and tight. “That hurt.”

"Good." You smiled down at him. “Pain builds character.”

"Think I just built a new personality."

You laughed, but your fingers were steady, cleaning the piercing, sliding the barbell in with practiced ease. Blood dotted the corner of his brow, a tiny red bead against pale skin. You brushed it away gently.

“There,” you whispered, brushing your thumb over it. “Perfect.”

And then his hands were on your waist—tight, needy—and he pulled you closer, grinding up into you with a roughness that surprised you.

You gasped softly, clutching his shoulders for balance as the pressure between you ignited into something darker, heavier, more dangerous.

His voice was low in your ear. “You know you’re driving me fucking crazy, right?”

Your grin was slow, wicked. “That was the point.”

Your thumb still lingered on his fresh piercing, the skin red and sensitive beneath your touch. Sam's breath came out shaky, but it wasn’t from the pain anymore.

It was from you. Sitting on him. So close. So still.

And now… you felt it.

Hard. Hot. Straining beneath the rough denim of his jeans, pressed snugly against your ass. A slow, pulsing ache that had nowhere to go with you perched there like a goddamn tease.

You shifted your hips—just a little. Enough to grind the curve of your ass against his erection, enough to test just how desperate he really was.

He made a strangled sound—half breath, half moan—and his fingers flexed hard on your thighs like he was trying not to grab you and fuck the consequences.

“You’re hard,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. “Because of me.”

He swallowed. Hard. Eyes wide, like he couldn’t believe you said it out loud.

Like maybe he didn’t think you’d noticed, even though he’d been throbbing under you for a full minute.

“...I didn’t mean to,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “You were just—on me. And…”

“And grinding?” you offered sweetly, rotating your hips again. Slow. Torturous. “Like this?”

His head dropped back against the couch with a soft thud, brows knitting together like he was in pain. Or heaven. Or both.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re evil.”

You leaned down, mouth near his ear. “You like it.”

He gave a choked laugh, but his hips jerked upward, chasing the heat of you. His cock pressed right between the cheeks of your ass, rock hard and twitching, barely restrained by thin fabric and teenaged desperation.

You sat upright, watching him fall apart under you.

His hands slid up, palms hot and shaky on your bare thighs. “You’re not even wearing a bra, are you?”

You smirked. “Wanna find out?”

His hands slid under your tank top like he couldn’t stop himself—even though he looked like he was about to apologize for it. He was trembling. Hungry. Like he’d thought about this a hundred times but never imagined you’d let him.

But you weren’t letting him.

You were making him need it.

You rolled your hips again, grinding down, letting his hardness press between your thighs, feel your heat through your shorts. He gasped, biting his lip like it hurt not to thrust up.

"You’re gonna cum in your jeans, Sam," you whispered, teasing. "Just from me rubbing on you like this."

His eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, don’t say that.”

You leaned in close again, grinding harder, dragging your heat right over the bulge of his cock. “Why not? Embarrassed? Shy little Sam can’t handle a girl on his lap?”

“I can—God—I can handle it,” he gasped.

“You’re dripping,” you whispered in his ear, reaching down to press your palm over the bulge in his jeans. He bucked into your hand, practically whining.

“Please,” he breathed. “I can’t—I’m so close…”

You smiled wickedly, rubbing slow, tight circles against his cock through the denim. “You gonna cum just like this? Or do you want to be inside me?”

He opened his eyes, blown wide with disbelief. “You’re serious?”

You leaned back enough for him to see your face. Your tank top had slipped low, nipples hard and visible through the fabric. You were still straddling him, soaked and aching and bold as sin.

You nodded, slowly. “Dead serious.”

He looked like he was about to break.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you forever,” he admitted, voice raw. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to touch you like this.”

You reached for the hem of your shirt, lifting it in one clean motion. His jaw dropped. His hands shot out, reverent and shaking, cupping your breasts like they were something sacred.

You moaned as he thumbed over your nipples, gaze locked on his as you ground into him again.

He was panting now. Desperate. Hard as hell under you.

“Take your pants off, Sam,” you whispered. “I want to feel you.”

Sam's fingers fumbled with his jeans like they were suddenly the enemy, his breath shaky as you slid off his lap just long enough for him to push them down his thighs. You didn’t give him time to get shy again—you were already pulling your shorts down, panties soaked through, your thighs sticky with arousal.

“Jesus,” he breathed, eyes locked on you like he couldn’t believe you were real. “You’re so…”

“What?” you whispered, climbing back into his lap, now nothing between you but heat, skin, and sweat.

He exhaled hard, eyes dark. “So wet. You’re dripping, holy shit—”

Your hand wrapped around his cock before he could finish the sentence, and he nearly broke. The groan that left his throat was filthy, guttural, raw. His hips jerked under your touch, desperate, aching, so hard you could feel the way he throbbed in your grip.

"You gonna cum just from me touching you?" you teased, your voice low and cruel and so goddamn hot.

He was trembling. “Close. Don’t stop. Please—fuck—I need you.”

You leaned forward, mouths barely apart, your chest brushing his. "You want to be inside me that bad?"

“Yes,” he growled, no hesitation now, need cutting through the shyness like a blade. “I wanna feel you. I wanna fuck you so bad, I’ve been losing my mind.”

You didn’t need more.

You sank down, slowly, letting the thick head of his cock press against your entrance. His mouth dropped open in a silent moan, his nails digging into your hips like if he didn’t hold on, he’d fall into pieces.

“Fucking hell,” he gasped, voice breaking. “You feel—god—you’re so warm. You’re gonna ruin me.”

You slid down all the way, burying him inside you in one slow, wet grind.

Your moan echoed in the room—needy, broken, blissful.

His hands were everywhere. Gripping. Squeezing. Worshiping. His eyes drank you in like he’d waited for this his whole life and couldn’t believe it was happening. His lips kissed your throat, your collarbone, your breasts, all while you rocked your hips against him, using him, claiming him.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispered against your skin. “I don’t—I can’t hold back—”

"Don't," you breathed, moving faster now, grinding down against him with every bounce. "Fuck me, Sam. Just let go."

He did.

He met every grind with a thrust of his own, messy and desperate, clinging to you like you were his only tether to earth. The couch creaked beneath you both. Sweat made your bodies slick. His mouth was on your neck, your shoulder, your breast, whispering things he didn’t even realize he was saying.

“Been dreaming about this—how you’d feel—how you’d sound—fuck, fuck—”

You rode him harder, chasing that sweet, unbearable pressure building deep inside you. His name was a chant on your lips, your nails digging into his back, your thighs trembling from the pleasure rolling through you in waves.

“I’m gonna—” you gasped, eyes fluttering shut.

“Me too,” he whispered, holding you tighter, pulling you down flush against him, cock buried so deep inside you it felt like he was part of you.

And when it hit—when you both shattered—it was like the whole world went white-hot and slow and silent.

Your moan, his growl, your bodies trembling against each other.

Afterward, your breath still hadn’t caught up. You stayed there, chests pressed together, sweat-slick skin clinging, his cock still twitching inside you, softening slowly as he wrapped his arms around your waist like he didn’t want to let go.

Minutes passed.

No words.

Just the sound of breathing. Heartbeats.

And then you leaned back, looked at him with a smirk.

"So..." you whispered, trailing a lazy finger down his chest, “...do friends fuck like this?”

Sam blinked up at you. Flushed. Ruined. Completely and utterly wrecked.

“…Guess we’re not just friends anymore,” he said, voice still hoarse, lips brushing your shoulder.

[starrdream]

A sam smut fic like he hears u talking to ur friends about how "sex is overrated" and he proves reader wrong

hope u like it xoxo

Sam Monroe x f!reader summary: Sam overhears the conversation you had with your friends.. includes: SMUT, rough sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, idk what else

This isn’t exactly a conversation you have at your lunch table at school.

"No, I’m telling you, it’s not that fun." You shrug, taking another bite of your sandwich. "People hype it up too much."

"Oh shut up, y/n." One of your girlfriends groaned, rolling her eyes. "You just hadn't had your guts rearranged yet and that's okay."

Nor in any public space to be honest.

"Jesus could you be any more graphic?" You snort. "Besides, I still think it's overrated."

"No but seriously, I don't think it's as bad as you take it to be." Another friend chimes in. "Maybe the guy was just bad."

"I don't think so." You shake your head.

"Yeah I don't know..you always get with fugly guys I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.." The first friend chuckles.

"Yeah your taste in men is awful." The second friend agrees. "They probably don't even know what they're doing.."

"Aren't you a virgin?" You ask the second girl, tilting your head. That shut her up real quick.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam was sitting at the table behind you, soaking up every word from the conversation you just had with your friends.

A part of him was sure he could change your mind. What even were the odds that you actually didn't enjoy it as much as any other horny teenager?

Mustering all the courage he had, Sam decided to shoot his shot...

The room was thick with heat. Every thrust sent shockwaves through your body, the slick, wet sounds filling the space between breathless moans. Your fingers twisted into the sheets, knuckles turning white as you braced yourself against the force of his thrusts

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.." You yelped as Sam's thick length kept thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace.

"Yeah? What was that?" Sam teases you, leaning against your back to nip at your neck. His voice is a deep rasp against your ear

"Please Sam.." You moaned, voice shaky, pathetic-desperate.

"Please what? You want it harder? Is this not good enough?" He coos breathlessly.

"Ngh-Sam.." You gasp.

"Mid stuff right? Well I'm about to fuck the doubt right out of you." He groans, gripping your hips tighter as he pounds into your throbbing pussy.

Your moans and whimpers become muffled as you bury your face in a pillow, arching your back and pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

The pressure built inside you, twisting and coiling, ready to consume you whole.

"Yeah? I think you're really starting to enjoy it now." He chuckles, one hand caressing and softly squeezing your ass.

Spreading your knees further with his knee, he allows himself to take you deeper.

"Oh right there-" You whine, pushing your head further against the pillow.

"Ah-ah-ah, can't have any of that.." He scolds. Sam’s hand suddenly tangled in your hair, yanking your head up.

His pace stuttered for just a moment before he recovered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Let me hear you pretty girl." He teases softly.

Sam continues to pound into you from behind, strained grunts and soft whimpers escaping him every now and then. He's painfully hard inside you-the view of you arched and spread out before him only making it worse.

You convulse around him, gripping the sheets tighter as you babble nonsense. Seems like he did fuck your brains out because not a single coherent sentence left your mouth from that point on.

"You gonna cum f'me? Hm?" Sam asks, voice hoarse and rough.

"Fuck..mhh, gonna.." You mutter, words interrupted by pathetic whimpers and wails.

"I didn't quite catch that.." Sam repeats teasingly, but the way he was thrusting into you was anything but gentle.

"Nghh" You mewl in response, loosing your mind at the sensations.

"Mhm, that's what I thought." He tilts your hips up, changing the angle and rubbing against your spot repeatedly.

Sam.

The only word you could say out loud and the only thing on your mind as your eyes welled with tears. He kept rambling something but you were too lost in the pleasure to make out what he's saying.

Your walls flutter and clamp down on him, causing him to let out a soft moan. And that was enough. An orgasm crashed over you-hips bucking, thighs shaking and lip quivering.

Sam wasn't far behind you, unleashing his load into your pussy before pulling out and leaving you aching and sore.

"Fucked you stupid, didn't I?" He snorts as he turns you over, wiping some of your tears away.

"Don't cry. You did so good for me." He coos 'innocently' as his fingers trail down to your sensitive hole.

"Sam-" Your weak and meaningless protest is interrupted by Sam shoving two fingers inside of you, curling and pumping in and out steadily.

Was it too much? Yes. But gosh you never wanted him to stop.

[ysrjune]

ive been licking dirt and scraping the ground to find a crumb of sam monroe x reader who is alternative pleasepleasaepleaspelpaslep i love your writing so much

SAM MONROE X ALT!READER

★ oh em gee, thank you. I love you, have my soul 😊🙏🏼. UM, I haven't written in a while besides the dad scott stuff so hashtag sorry if this sucks.. sorry, it's short, too. pls don't hate me thank you ok bye enjoy

♱. Sam and alt!reader who always get into some sort of argument because they're alike. It never gets too serious, but in the moment, you two are on each other's nerves really badly.

♱. Sam and alt!reader who always go shopping together and share opinions on what they wanna buy. Always praising each other about their outfits because they like really similar stuff.

♱. Sam likes to invite you to whatever party Corey drags him along to. Mostly because he leave Sam behind to go on the dance floor or try and talk up a chick or two. He doesn't really talk to anyone else, so having you there would help him not he so bored and miserable.

♱. Next in line to Corey, you're probably his best friend. Only because you get on his nerves just a little more than Corey does.

♱. Sam acts like he isn't immediately bummed out when you cant hangout and he has no one else. He was okay with his other friends not being able to hangout, but it genuinely upsets him that he can't see you because you just get him like no one else does.

♱. 100% brings you along to concerts with him.

♱. Sam refuses to say that you're cool. He doesn't wanna boost your ego, but yes, he does think you are. He really likes your vibe.

♱. If you bothered him enough about it, he'd buy a matching outfit or piece of jewelry with you, but he'd say it's lame.

wasnt sure what else to add. sigh.

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaas-xo @anakinca @dollfilmz @gothams-sweetheart @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far @cutestcouch @amiratheangel @blckberrie @literally-izzyy @litt1e-misssunsh1ne @chanelluvstvd @hearts4sammonroe @fratbrochrisgf @kqmbr1a

[anjautembear]

WHY MUST I BE PUNISHED!?

I have been scrolling NON STOP FOR THE PAST 40 MIN AND ALL I FIND IS SMUT

All I want to do is read some angst or other wholesome stuff AND NOT SMUT. Can I just for once enjoy crying in heartacke and not see a smut warning.

ARE YOU GUYS REALLY THAT HORNY!?!?😦💀

[mvst4far]

Sam Monroe x f!reader

SUMMARY: Spending the morning with Sam after sleeping over for the night.

WARNINGS: Brief sexual reference (no smut), pill/drug use and a make out with Sammy 💋

Sam stirs beside you with a moody groan, removing his forearm from covering his eyes as he abruptly sits himself up─accidentally stirring you awake in the process.

"God, can you be anymore louder?" You sigh, rolling over to face away from him as you desperately attempt to fall back asleep.

"Shit, my bad," He grumbles apologetically and scratches the back of his neck, kicking the covers off before lazily standing up from the bed.

Somehow, and with weeks of begging, Sam had convinced his mom to let you sleepover for a night. The two of you were allowed to hang out in his room, of course, but you just weren't granted the access of sleeping in the same bed. His mom knew what he was like─especially with his teenage hormones and occasionally finding stiff socks hidden under his bed.

God knows what you two do when you're alone.

Of course, the first thing this emo boy goes for is a stash of pills he keeps hidden in the beside table. He quickly untwists the cap and shakes out a singular pill─placing it onto the palm of his hand before chucking it into his mouth and gulping it down his throat.

His addiction got so bad, that most of the time you'd have to step in and sit through long, uncomfortable conversations. He didn't like opening up at all, but it felt somewhat natural with you.

"Sam," You groan, stretching one of your arms out as you continue to lay on your side.

Sam's head snaps towards you over his shoulder, quickly screwing the lid back on and stuffing it back into the drawer of his beside table. "Yeah?" He clears his throat, trying his best not to sound suspicious as he turns around to face you.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Nothin'. You hungry? I can get my mom to make you somethin'."

You sigh and shake your head as he changes the topic. "No, m'okay." You murmur back, your voice lacing with sleepiness.

He nods, standing awkwardly for a moment with his fingers drumming against his thigh. "You tired?" He asks, pointing out the obvious like a dumbass.

"Mhm," You sleepily respond, face nuzzling into the soft pillow that had a lingering smell of Sam's cologne.

Sam almost felt bad that he was keeping you up by continuing to talk to you. He couldn't help it though. It just felt natural speaking to you. And once he started, he couldn't stop.

"So," He starts, staring at your figure lying peacefully on his bed. "What do you wanna do today?" He finishes, shifting on his feet covered with white socks.

"I don't know." You grumble, starting to sound a little more annoyed at his never-ending ramblings.

Sam immediately picks up on the change of your tone, realizing he may have messed up a little. "Sorry," He runs a hand through his black hair, suppressing anything else he wanted to say.

౨ৎ

It didn't take long until Sam had somehow convinced you to pay attention to him instead of sleeping. Even though it was only nine in the morning, he couldn't help his hormones. They sparked a lot more around you─which often got him in trouble.

Sam's lips moves against yours with urgency, his fingers digging deeply into your hips as he firmly holds you down to straddle his lap. With your fingers running through his hair─occasionally scratching his scalp, he couldn't resist but whimper in the most pathetic way possible.

It was a religious occasion for you two to be making out randomly. Didn't matter the place, or the time, since Sam could only keep his hands to himself for so long.

He pulls away with a exasperated exhale, his lips plump and pink. "I was thinking we could hit up the park today. I wanna get high, but I can't do that in my mom's house." He says breathlessly.

You chuckle at his random suggestion, shaking your head in amusement. "We're in the middle of making out, and the only thing you can think about is getting high?" You scoff, making it clear you were teasing him. "Wow, Monroe. Way to make a girl feel special."

Sam clicks his tongue against his teeth, rolling his eyes at your tease. "C'mon, you know I didn't mean it like that," He huffs, almost glaring at you like a defeated puppy.

You burst out into giggles, your hands resting at the nape of his neck. "Yeah, I know you didn't." You admit, shrugging your shoulders.

Sam didn't even have the time to respond before your lips crashes back onto his with desperation─almost latching on him like a leech.

He immediately reciprocates into the kiss, his head tilting to the side to seek a deeper angle while he pushes you flush on his lap. Even though you were basically in control by being on top, he managed to show some dominance with his strength.

And all it did was turn you on even more.

After a few moments, Sam pulls away once more─leaving him completely breathless. "Just to make sure... we are going to the park later, right?" He asks once again, holding you still.

"Sam!" You huff in disbelief, slapping his bicep.

"What?! I was just askin'!"

two posts in one day, i am feeding you guys 🥀

taglist: @alealuvshayden @anakinstwinklebunny @divineani @estranged-girl

[starryskyangel]

EMO I'D LIKE TO FUCK

[lilacwinexi]

TEEN PARENTS

Sam Monroe

New series coming soon

Characters :

Mila Monroe — 1 year old (but she gets older in some scenarios)

Y/n L/n — 18 years old

Sam Monroe — 19 years old

This series will be a bunch of scenarios of you, Sam and Mila! It will be fluffy with some struggle as they are teenagers trying to raise a child.

Some scenarios will also be of just you and Sam having alone time away from Mila and being able to be kids again.

Hope you guys enjoyyy

Chapters —

Imagines pt 1

Imagines pt 2

—

Sunday mornings

[bettyvick]

'liar!'

Unburned!Anakin Skywalker x Farmer!Reader

Summary: 'Liar!' Those were the last words the love of your life told you. Now you live in exile on a farm with your children when he comes back and begs for forgiveness.

Warnings: Angsty, dark side!anakin, breeding kink, mention of getting caught, sexual explicit content, mention of being overwhelmed during sex, mention of fullness, crying of pleasure, penetration (f receiving), oral (f receiving), use of sex for manipulation, praising, nicknames such as 'love', 'baby' and 'mommy' to reader, mention to giving birth, 3000 words.

A/N: Something a bit sad :/

—Liar! You're with him! You've brought him here to kill me— Anakin shouted with the most scary expression you had ever seen. His eyes shone red with rage. He raised his hand in the distance and the walls of your throat closed, cutting off your air. You brought your hands to your neck and coughed, trying to get some air.

—Let her go, Anakin! Let her go!— Obi-Wan spoke from the ship. Anakin stopped the effect of the Force on your throat and you fell to the ground unconscious.

When you woke up, you were about to give birth. The contractions were terrible, and you were scared to death. What if Anakin was right? What if it was true that you were going to die during childbirth? You tried to not think about it a lot, everything was going to be good. Obi-Wan held your hand during the two more scary hours of your life. After many contractions, screams and tears, your two babies were born safely (because yes, they were twins!).

—Hello my beautiful babies, Luke, Leia— you spoke softly to them while Leia gripped your finger in her tiny palms. They were red and wrinkled, but you loved them more than anything.

When the last remaining Jedi learned that you had given birth to Anakin Skywalker's children after Order 66, they decided to hide you on an abandoned planet. It was similar to Naboo, your home, but nothing was the same. There were ships constantly monitoring the planet, making sure no one got too close. No one could know you were still alive.

The habitants of every planet were told that you and your child had died in childbirth, and even a monument was dedicated to you and a fake funeral was prepared. You didn't approve of any of this, but you understood that it was necessary for survival.

That was seven years ago.

The children were now grown, they liked to play on the green fields of the farm while you did the laundry or baked cakes. Leia, with her leadership spirit, would lead the flock of sheeps through the mountains to save you work. But she loved it. It was so scary the way she was just like her father, stubborn and brave. However, Luke was busy helping you with your chores while talking about the fruits he had found in the valley. He was calmer in character and somewhat more reserved. He has Anakin's eyes.

Obi-Wan spent weeks on the farm and other weeks away. He comforted you over the loss of your husband, because Anakin was dead to you. He also gave you some conversation, which was important for your mental health since spending so much time alone with just your seven-year-old children was driving you crazy. You didn't hate the farm —on the contrary! You loved everything about it, but you missed your old life. The nostalgia was especially overwhelming at night before bed, when you thought about everything that could have been but wasn't. If only he hadn't let Palpatine manipulate him... If only he hadn't trusted his dreams... But the damage was done and there was no going back.

This morning you were extremely sensible, Obi-Wan left yesterday and he wasn't coming back for three weeks. Luke had a nightmare and woke you up at 4 AM, then you couldn't sleep well anymore. And to make matters worse, some creature had destroyed the barn and killed several chickens, thus traumatizing the children. After eating, the twins fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from repairing the barn and catching the escaped hens. You carried them to bed and tucked them in, then kissed each of them on the forehead.

Tired, you lied on your coach and tried to rest. You closed your eyes softly and your breathing became slow. You fell into a light sleep until the mechanical sound of a ship hovering over the small wooden house woke you up. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was some soldiers checking the perimeter, but then a loud knocking sounded in the living room. Knuckles rapping on the door. Soldiers weren't allowed that close to the farmhouse.

Could it be Obi-Wan? Had they delayed their mission?

The sound repeated, and now you got up, your body felt heavy and the lack of sleep more present than ever. You took the small knob between your fingers and rolled it. Then you met his eyes, those eyes that had haunted you for so long. The most beautiful shade of blue you'd ever seen. With his scar running vertically across his eyebrow, his light hair longer than you remembered, and a black tunic similar to the one he used to wear but with some red details.

Anakin, no. Darth Vader was in front of you, invading your safe place, the safe place of your children.

—Love…— he spoke with that soft expression that you missed. You looked horrorized.

—What are you doing here?— and you sounded horrorized.

—I've been looking for you, love…

—No, no, go away— you ordered, your heart pounding.

—Is this how you greet your husband?— he asked, his tone deeper.

—You're not my husband, you're a monster. My husband died on Mustafar, I don't know who you are— you replied, your voice sounding desperate. You should have wanted him to leave, but you didn't. Instead, you wanted him to stay, to raise your children together, to be a family. Your head said that it wasn't possible, but your heart thought you could still fix him.

You stepped back as Anakin calmly passed through the doorway. He scanned the living room of your home with an expression you couldn't quite understand.

He took a photo frame in his hands and smiled at the image. He wanted to keep it in his memory forever.

You slowly approached behind him, more relaxed now. It was a picture of Luke, Leia, and you. You were holding Luke in your right arm while Leia took your other hand. You were all smiling. In the background, you could see the flock of white sheeps that the little girl loved so much. You were all dressed in white, and you were wearing the same thin dress you were wearing now. Anakin thought it was his new favorite thing in the world.

—They were two— he interrupted the silence and turned to look at you; you were closer than you had been in a long time. You nodded. —They're up there, right?— he meant the stairs that led to the upper floor. He didn't give you time to answer when he started moving slowly toward it, but you ran ahead of him and stood in the middle, slowing him down. You grabbed a pair of embroidery scissors that were on the thick wooden railing and pointed them at him.

—Stop! Don't come any closer!— you cried, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He used the Force to pull the scissors into his hand and threw them to the floor without flinching. Anakin approached you, trying to get past you, but you didn't move. Your chests were pressed together. —Please, don't come up— you begged him through a sob.

His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze for a few seconds. He was about to give in. He looked at you with inner turmoil. You made him doubt his morals, everything he had built during those seven long years apart.

Has it really all been worth it? Losing you for his Empire had been worth it?

It broke his heart to see how scared you were of him. His hand was about to gently touch your cheek when he was interrupted.

—She told you not to come any closer— Obi-Wan's voice echoed through the living room. Anakin turned to him, his expression changing to rage in a matter of seconds.

—Obi-Wan— Anakin said, reaching for his belt where his lightsaber rested.

—No!— you said, raising your voice. You were surprised the children hadn't gotten up yet; they must have been tired. Obi-Wan already had the lightsaber in his hand, glowing in bright blue. —Stop! Stop now! The children are upstairs!— Obi-Wan looked at you over Anakin's shoulder.

—Stay back, he's dangerous— the older man said. Anakin balled his hand into a fist.

—The only danger here is you, Master. Stay away from the house, my wife, and my children— the blue-eyed spat angrily.

Obi-Wan gave you another look, asking what he should do. You lowered your head in a gesture for him to leave. He turned off his lightsaber and, hesitantly, walked toward the door.

—I'll be outside if you need me— Anakin's figure relaxed once he was gone.

He took your hand and you headed upstairs, but not before he left his lightsaber on the dining room table. You arrived with delicate steps to Luke and Leia's room. You opened the door slowly, and there they were, both asleep and tucked into different beds, each in a corner of the room.

The room was entirely made of different types of wood and filled with sheets of paper with drawings glued to the walls by the two siblings. One that particularly caught Anakin's attention was one with four stick figures representing the entire family, including him. His heart sank when he read ‘Dad’ above the largest stick figure. You noticed his gaze linger on that sheet and smiled.

—Luke made that one. He insisted on including you in the family drawing— you whispered. He nodded, shocked.

—What's the girl's name?— he asked sadly. It felt terrible not even knowing his children's names.

—Leia, she's just like you, stubborn and unstoppable.

Anakin smiled sadly and bowed his head, thinking of everything he had missed. Their first steps, their first words, teaching them how to fix ships, planting their first flowers in the garden, their first birthday… It all overwhelmed him, and his eyes began to water. He wiped the tear falling down his cheek with his robotic hand.

—Can I come closer?— he asked, his voice cracking.

You hesitated for a few seconds but finally gave in.

Anakin approached Luke's bed first and sat on the edge. He studied him for several minutes, gently stroking his hair. The boy exhaled deeply and turned to his father, still asleep. Then Anakin did the same, but with Leia. She was sprawled across the bed with her stuffed bunny around her neck. He gently kissed her forehead, and she made incomprehensible sounds.

He turned and looked you up and down after a long time. You looked more tired, but still beautiful. Your hair was in a braid that fell over your shoulder, some strands straying. You were leaning against the frame with a smile and your arms crossed.

—You are beautiful— he said shamelessly, as he used to do before; he knew that was what you needed to hear. And you blushed. He'd almost made you forget all the horrific crimes he'd committed, how he'd subjected the entire galaxy to a dictatorial regime. Almost.

Nothing was the same again. And it couldn't be the same again, no matter how much you still loved him.

You returned to the living room ready to chat for a while. Anakin sat in an armchair opposite you while you opted for the sofa.

—How did you get in?— you asked softly and he felt he could melt right there.

—It wasn't very difficult, your guards are incompetent and lazy.

—How did you find me?

—Tracking ships, planets, space movements, etc. During seven years.

—What do you want?

Anakin laughed softly and your heart raced.

—You.

You blinked nervously and played with your braid between your fingers.

—And you think after everything you've done, you can come here, ask for forgiveness, and be forgiven?

He stood up and looked at you from top.

—I came here intending to do whatever it takes to get you back— he admitted grabbing your chin with delicacy.

—End the rule of terror you have imposed— you spoke looking him directly in the eyes. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

—I’ll do whatever you want— he whispered a few inches from your face.

His lips found yours, and a thousand sparks shot through you from head to toe. He knelt in front of you while you remained seated, and he deepened the kiss by gently taking your neck. His tongue slid into your mouth and you moaned quietly. He left a couple of short kisses more on your lips and then he dragged his mouth down your neck, reaching the beginning of your dress and leaving a couple purple marks over your skin. He massaged your bristly and sore nipples under his hands, tearing off a heavenly sound for him.

—I'm going to take you to heaven, love— he spoke with a broken voice.

He grabbed the fabric of your dress and pulled it down, revealing your beautiful tits. His pupils gave themselves away. His mouth immediately settled on them, biting and sucking.

—Anakin— you moaned of pleasure.

—I know, baby, I know.

Your clit was swollen and sore, it needed attention urgently. When he left your nipples red and sensible, his head went down your torso, dragging the fabric in its wake, until reaching your ruined panties. A dark spot was concentrated in the center.

—Fuck, baby, you're wet as hell— he said making lazy circles over your dressed clit. A sound between a gasp and a moan left your lips when you felt the friction of his finger over your sensible zone.

Then his tongue joined in, making you cry out. It had been too long since you had time to enjoy your sexuality. Anakin started licking your weeping pussy and the pressure was so good that you came a few minutes later. The orgasm passed through you like a wave, making you scream acutely with your mouth opened.

But he was hungry and seven years had passed.

You shrink your legs up onto the couch and Anakin wrapped his arms around them as he was eating your pussy out.

—One more, baby— Anakin said rubbing your overstimulated clit with his fingers. His tongue was as fast as his fingers. You started shaking and babbling nonsense. He had to cover your mouth, sliding his fingers on your throat.

—You have to be quiet, you don't want to wake up the kids.

The thought of being caught made you unable to handle it any longer and you came again in his mouth with a scream that your husband's fingers in your mouth silenced. Your dress was wrapped around your waist and your panties wet and sticky.

—That's it, mommy, you did it very well— he praised you. Your mind was blank and blurred, you were drooling and couldn't form a single sentence. Then Anakin got on his feet and he took off his clothes. He passed his finger

—Now you're gonna take me like a good girl.

And that's what you did.

He lined up his thick cock on your vaginal lips and pushed inside slowly. His face twisted with pleasure.

—You don't know how long I've been waiting for this— he spoke with a shaking breath. You were completely overwhelmed, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed and moaned. —I’ve spent seven years searching for you, and you're finally here.

He sank all of his dick inside of you and then started moving slowly from out to inside. A whimper left his mouth.

You've missed that so much.

—I’m gonna live here, and you'll be my little farm wife— Anakin said, putting your legs up on his shoulders taking you to an angle that made his member go deeper. You rolled your eyes, turning them white, the sensation of fullness was too much for you. He covered your mouth again before you screamed.

—I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, and we'll give Luke and Leia another sibling, fuck-

—Mmmhmmm— you moaned. Your knees were pressing your chest, numbing against your naked tits.

—You go dumb over my dick, don't you?— he asked, stimulating again your sensible clit. You nodded.

—Ani…— you gasped. Your hair was a mess and falling over your face as Anakin lunged faster.

He penetrated you more erratically until he finally fulfilled his promise and came inside of you with a long and loud moan left on his lips while his face contracted. He withdrew from your insides, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness and he saw his sperm sliding from your cunt.

—That’s it, baby— Anakin said, kissing one of your knees, then he threw himself onto the couch and pulled you onto his lap, wrapping you in a warm hug. Your labored breaths were in sync, and you felt his chest rise and fall against your arm.

—Have you forgiven me?— he asked innocently.

You weren't sure about the answer.

[cillivnz]

RING-POP

PAIRING. sam monroe x f!reader

SYNOPSIS. sam makes you try a different version of your favorite candy; bigger and bitter.

WARNINGS. NSFW themes (18+), pet-names, cursing, dirty-talk & too many puns (i swear this punk cannot shut up), name-calling (brat, dumb girl), brat-taming, degradation, slight dacryphilia, perv!sam, clueless!reader, oral sex (m! receiving), face-fucking, bondage, slight slapping (with a belt, with his cock), hair-pulling, sexualising food?

SMACK, SLURP, POP. the sounds filled sam’s humid room. his brow furrowed further, a look of disdain washing over his pale features at the noise. the videogame in front of him needed all his heed, but it seemed like his brat, bambi, demanded some of that attention, too.

“stop that,” he groaned, frustrated. the sound of his thumbs assaulting the buttons on his controller should’ve been all that was heard, had you not been deep-throating the candy sam made the mistake of getting you. “what— i’m just having my candy,” you whined before continuing, “—and besides, if you have a problem, why don’t you let me sit away from you—” he was quick to shut down that idea, gripping the flesh of your thighs. maybe sam was in the wrong for getting you the cherry ring-pop, your favourite, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have you perched on his lap, sitting comfortably (cluelessly) on his aching boner, but in his defence, he just wanted to feast his eyes on the sight of your plump lips wrapped around the toy candy, sucking and slurping, just as you are now like the good girl you are, but once he switched his playstation on, the competitive side came out.

you shift to your comfort in his lap, feeling the tent in his pants poke directly into your mound. you had an arm crossed over sam’s neck, bringing the ring-clad finger to your mouth and sucking. at the taste of the sweet cherry juices dripping into your mouth, you groan in sam’s ear.

the sounds traveled straight to his cock, his mind tuning out his reality— the game at hand— just to focus at your skilful tongue, stained red by the candy. “if you don’t quit it—” he sighed, his voice strained. the next thing you know, his character is being obliterated by the enemy. you stifled a giggle, your plan worked.

sam had left you so, so worked up. choosing to take out his frustration with his family on some stupid toy, rather than your willing pussy. ever since that day at the playground, you couldn’t go a day without sam pounding into your drooling cunt. even if it was always him starting it, he got you to finish, and you were forever grateful for it. but today? when you dolled up in all black— tank top and skirt— with red lingerie, he decided to pick up that gaming console and not let go.

“alright, bambi, i’ve had it with you,” he gets up abruptly, causing you to hit the ground and land on your knees. you gasped, offended.

his hands, full of real, crude metal were quick to move, undoing his belt, unlike your delicate hand that was motionless with the toy ring perched on it. the leather of his studded belt flicked across your cheek, causing you to look up at sam through wet lashes. he only smirked at the sight. your eyes flicked to the bulge revealed in his boxers, and now your mouth watered for a taste that wasn’t cherry ring-pop.

“‘like to suck your candy, huh, brat?” he squeezed your cheeks together. “since you’ve been practising in my goddamn ears all day,” he continued, pulling out his cock, “let’s see how good you’ve gotten.” his cock was slapped against the same spot at the belt. you only stared at him through your long lashes, unwilling to satiate when you’re unsatisfied yourself. “come on, bambi, open up,” he squeezed your cheeks again, causing your mouth to gape open. “i can’t guarantee it tastes like cherries, but you’re open to trying sweet-n-salty, aren’tcha?” he giggled, amused at his own snarky comments.

the fat tip of his cock pressed into your plump, gape lips, and instinctively, your tongue stuck out to lick it. “there we go,” sam sighed, ready to return to cloud 9.

you sheepishly swirled your tongue around the bulbous tip of his cock, relishing in the taste of his precum oozing into your tastebuds. oh, yeah, you’ve found yourself a new favourite flavour.

“hands up for me, bambi,” he sighed, breathless already. you oblige, eyes widening when his belt snaked over your wrists, tying them in an unholy matrimony. your hands rested in your lap, preventing you from pleasuring yourself like you intended to. “now, open wide f’me.” you’re obedient, eager to please, for you know if sam’s satisfied he would overlook the ‘punishment’ and stick his cock into you. your pussy flutters at the thought of being full again.

as your throat relaxed around him, you started taking more and more of his length, looking up at him through your lashes to seek his validation, and the mere sight was rewarding. his brows furrowed, a pink flush crept into his pale skin, while his lips were plump and agape, marks of his teeth etched into the skin. “your mouth was made to suck cock, y’know that— my cock. you’re only gonna squeeze my cock with that fuckin’ throat, y’hear?” he nods, authoritative yet cooing, “is my girl understanding me?” so you bobble your head along with length. “fuck yeah, brat. going dumb on my cock,” he moans, and you were eager to illicit more of those sounds.

you relax your jaw, inhale deeply, and let him take charge. when sam realises this, the little devil smirks, running his fingers through your scalp to tug at your hair.

his cock pistons in and out of your throat, your eyes watering and your breath haggard. your pussy clenched around nothing but the flooded dampness of your cotton panties.

“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—” incoherent grunts and groans filled the room along with the delirious smell of your arousals. “fuuuuck, bambi,” sam’s thrusts got sloppier.

“you know,” he spoke, breathless yet mischievously, “this candy comes with a creamy centre,” he chuckled, grunting as he came undone in your mouth. “sweet n’ salty, yeah?” he stroked his cock, relishing in the sight of his heavy load dripping down your plump lips. you were quick to swallow every drop, selfishly devouring your favourite candy. you wondered if this was gluttony or lust?

when satiated, sam pulled away, tucking his cock away. you, too, get up from the floor, wincing at the pain of kneeling down for too long.

you shimmy out of your clothes, making your way towards his bed. sam sees you in the corner of his eye, an eyebrow irking at your actions, “what do you think you’re doing,” he asked plainly, leaving you confused. “i- you’re fucking me, right?” you had a pitiful look on your face, so eager to chase your own release with his assistance. “like hell i will, dumb girl,” sam scoffed, “brats don’t get pleasure after punishment,” he shrugged coldly, grabbing his gaming console.

he pointed towards his thighs, “sit your ass back down,” you whine, “but i’ll be so boooored,” yet perch on his lap, still.

“—and i finished my ring-pop,” you sigh in frustration. sam chuckles, “don’t worry, i’ll have your new favourite out in a minute,”

“this flavour never finishes, just keeps on coming.”

THIS PUNK—

SEE ALSO. playground [PRELIMINARY FIC]. more of Sam Monroe [MEAN!SAM, BIMBO!READER AND OTHER TROPES].

[seraphrelic]

⟡ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ONLY IN THE SHADOWS — Anakin Skywalker x reader.

──────────────────────

SUMMARY: Two Jedi navigate the difficult the impossible line between loyalty and longing.

A/N: i was YEARNING for anakin angst for so long i took matters into my own hands </3 a little rushed n rough around the edges but let’s ignore that🤞

WARNINGS: heartbreak, forbidden love, public humiliation

──────────────────────

Whatever you were doing, it was dangerous, unthinkable, even. Something the Jedi code would’ve never allowed, not in a million years.

And yet, here you were with the infamous Skywalker, a last name recognisable within the entire galaxy, right in your bed. Your head was gently placed on his torso, hearing his heartbeat and the occasional rise of his chest.

The silence between you was peaceful, nothing was meant to be said, just the both of you here, in this moment, was enough.

A constant loop. The two of you, sneaking around, hiding, knowing this shouldn’t take place. You’d promise each other no more, yet those empty vows would be broken, over and over.

“Anakin?” Your voice hummed against his chest, causing his gaze to shift from the dimly lit corner of your room, back to the crown of your head, resting just beneath his chin.

He didn’t say anything, just hummed in response, awaiting to hear whatever was on your mind, what you had to say.

“Do you think-“ Trailing off, you tried to find the right words to form your thoughts, to make them sound meaningful.

“Do you think if we weren’t Jedi, we’d be able to live like this freely? No Jedi code, nothing to hold us back?”

Those words rung in his ears louder than any command the Council had ever given him, louder than duty, louder than reason.

He wanted to give you an honest answer, but he couldn’t. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. It was the kind of question that didn’t have a correct way to answer it.

As the stillness settled, you took Anakin’s silence as an answer to your quiet wondering.

Eventually, you allowed sleep to overtake you, muffling any thoughts still lingering in your mind about the Jedi, anything even merely connected to him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The mornings always ended up cold, subconsciously reaching for the warmth you fell asleep with, only to be met with disappointment.

Same routine every time. The both of you would fall asleep, tangled in each other, to then open your eyes to an empty space, just a faint scent indicating his presence the night before.

It drilled a hole within you each time, even though you understood, you had to. Jedi weren’t meant to be this close, this deep in feelings, and yet you couldn’t brush it away.

With a sigh, you slipped your Jedi robes on, the hilt of your lightsaber sliding into the side of the uniform with a gentle click.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Y/n!” A familiar voice called out, followed by Ahsoka who ran up to you in the hall, a smile painted across her face. „Where’ve you been?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, a little worried now. „Did something happen?”

„Well, there’s gonna be a mission soon. You’ll join me and my master,”

Joining Ahsoka with Anakin. Seemed like an interesting turn of events, not like you had any plans for today anyway.

A part of you felt a little nervous. You hadn’t seen him at all, then again, it was only the morning — he usually was busy at this time.

Boarding the ship was a fast process, per usual. Exceptionally quiet, maybe because everyone was still a little droopy, you hoped.

Anakin sat in the pilot seat, right next to you. His gaze was locked on avoiding any obstacles, but he could’ve said something, you thought.

Ahsoka was in the middle of you, cleaning up the hilt of her lightsaber. Perhaps the silence also bothered her as much as it bothered you.

„Is something the matter, Skywalker?” Upon hearing those words, his gaze instinctively drifted to your features. „No, why?” He answered, trying to dismiss any concerns you might’ve had.

He sounded calm, nothing that could’ve indicated anything otherwise, but it didn’t sound believable, not really.

It was always like this. Beneath the moonlight, his eyes had this certain look in them, as if you were the only person in the entire galaxy. Like only you mattered.

In the daytime, things were different, as expected. Playing the role of two Jedi, completing their duties with no strings attached. A cycle you had to endure.

And yet, sometimes you hoped it could’ve been different. It was a false hope, you were well aware, but nothing could’ve dulled the ache. The want in not needing to hide your feelings with the Jedi anymore.

Ahsoka glanced at the both of you, even though it was obvious she was pretending to not pay attention to the short conversation. Not that she suspected anything, though.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The mission went well. That’s what you would’ve said if not for the fact that you were attacked by bounty hunters, not like they stood a chance.

„Snips, stay put!” Anakin exclaimed, not even waiting for Ahsoka’s answer, currently in a battle with one of the enemies, occasionally glancing back at you.

Your lightsaber worked overtime, blocking every hit that went your way, the Jedi title in front of your name didn’t stand there for no reason. It was an indication of your training, growing strength over the years.

„Y/n, behind you!” Ahsoka raised her voice, only now noticing the bounty hunter creeping up, but it was too late.

All the others were fought off, but this specific one ended up slicing your shoulder, just a bit.

Anakin’s lightsaber seeped right through him shortly after, but missed catching your body to dull the pain appearing shortly.

Your teeth gritted against each other, brows scrunched together, wincing when your fingers brushed against the clothed wound.

„Kriff, just hold on!” Ahsoka hurriedly put her lightsabers away, the only thing you managed to remember before your vision started to blur and softly blacken.

Warmth. The sound of crackling fire humming in your ears, your eyesight becoming more vivid with each blink.

„She’s reckless.”

„Cut her some slack, she was just caught offguard,”

It was clear they were having a conversation, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was about you? Sure, you could’ve stopped the bounty hunter in time, but a tragedy didn’t happen.

Your eyes closed shut as the pain in your upper shoulder appeared once more, your arms shaking just a bit as you sat up straight.

Eyes locking almost immediately with Anakin felt uncertain, like you weren’t even aware of what to expect from him.

Ahsoka shot you a warm, sympathetic smile. Clearly she was the one that bandaged you up. Anakin didn’t, his expression was the opposite, now that you were able to compare it to his Padawan.

„I’ll uhm—I’ll leave you to it,” Sensing the uneasy silence, the ship suddenly became very interesting, like it needed something to be checked, fixed, leaving the two of you alone.

„What was that?” His expression was unreadable, yet his words were laced with irritation, you could tell. „I’m sorry?”

„You really couldn’t fight him off? He could’ve brought an end to your life, and you don’t care?”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, trying to figure out where this was coming from. It’s not like the mission failed, so why was he overreacting?

„I was just surprised, is all.” You shot back, your tone becoming a little snarky now. Just the night before, he held you close to his chest, now this?

„You’re too reckless,” He replied, his voice sounding more annoyed.

With a forced laugh, you raised your eyebrows. „Oh, and you’re not? How many ships have you crashed from your thinking?”

„If you even think, that is. Sometimes it seems like you don’t.”

That was the last straw for Anakin. He shot you a glare you couldn’t quite decipher, watching his hand pinch the bridge of his nose.

The atmosphere was tense. It was evident he was upset, but was he really this riled up over a minor accident, or was it something else?

„Look, I don’t know what happened, but you can talk to me,” This time, your voice was a lot softer, wanting to figure out what exactly was bothering him.

„Just forget it, maybe Snips needs some help.” His words were harsh, cutting deeper than any wound could. He got up, the sound of his footsteps shortly disappearing.


That night, it was difficult to fall asleep. Your mind kept returning back to the conversation between you and the Jedi, trying to get a sense of understanding.

You knew he wasn’t asleep, even though he was a bit further than you. Tossing and turning was a clear sign of it.

Biting your lip, you tried to suppress any words that could’ve come out, but to no use.

„Ani?”

It came out muffled, almost like a whisper, careful enough to not wake up Ahsoka, but loud enough for Anakin, who was wide awake, to hear.

„Hm?” That sound startled you just slightly, but it was nice to hear him not pissed off by Maker knows what.

For a moment, you hesitated. What could you even say, come join me?

„My shoulder still hurts, could you check?”

That was the dumbest excuse you’ve ever said. It was obviously a way to get him next to you, to warm up the empty sleeping bag.

After a moment of silence, he finally turned around, locking eyes with yours. For a moment, you hoped that he was about to do what you asked for.

„Y’know we can’t, right? Not how things work,” Somehow, that was painful to hear. Almost like a rejection, even though he had a point.

„Right, yeah,” Your gaze drifted off of him to the ground. „Sorry, for asking—I mean,”

Normally, he would’ve offered you some other form of comfort. Like a smile, maybe whisper some sweet-nothings in your ear to help you sleep better.

„Get some sleep, hm?” His words were neutral, no emotions lingering. No smile attached, just the brief gaze at you before turning around, his back facing you now.

It stung. It really did. You weren’t sure what was going on, but there was definitely something lingering between the both of you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Over the course of the next few days, it continued. Short glances, no more time spent together, nothing. Your shoulder wasn’t as sore anymore, but even that could take your mind off of Anakin.

It was selfish, you thought. He had his own duties, whether it was his own work or something to do with the clones, he couldn’t offer you all of his time.

But surely, a little wouldn’t hurt?

After your training with the younglings, you spotted a familiar, dark robe in the hallway, curls you would’ve recognised anywhere. Nobody was around, this was your chance.

„Anakin? Do you have a moment?” You watched him stiffen up, as if startled, but he wouldn’t show it too much. His back wasn’t facing you anymore, which was some sort of progress.

He didn’t speak, just simply waited for you to continue.

„I just, I wanted to ask if anything’s wrong, maybe we need to talk—„

„There’s nothing to talk about.”

What? Nothing to talk about when he’s been acting weird, treating you completely differently?

„No, I think there is. A lot, actually.” As he was about to turn away, your hand gripped his arm, careful to not let go.

Anakin was most likely about to say something, when suddenly Obi-Wan crossed the corner.

“Anakin, may I speak to you?” His voice was calm, almost as if he didn’t suspect a thing about what you two were talking about.

“Yes, Obi-Wan.” He replied, his voice monotone. He simply shared a quick glance with you, your grip subconsciously loosening.

Obi-wan’s gaze lingered on you, his expression a little puzzled. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”

“Oh, not at all. He’s all yours,” The smile you gave him was forced. Of course, you weren’t upset with Kenobi, not at all, but he really could’ve chosen a different time.

They both paced the hallways in silence, before Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “You two are close,”

Anakin’s jaw tightened almost immediately, but his expression remained calm. “No, not really, She’s a good Jedi, is all.”

Obi-Wan nodded, pausing slightly. He gathered his thoughts for a moment before speaking up.

“Do take care, Anakin. The line between closeness and attachment can be, imperceptible.”

Anakin’s eyes were unreadable, his gaze shifting from the floor to his former master. “I haven’t crossed it.”

Obi-Wan knew well. He was able to tell what his past apprentice was going through. By no means was Anakin a person easy to read.

From that point on, Anakin actively avoided you, at first it was pretty subtle. His presence was missed in rooms he’d usually be in, not a bit deal, you thought.

Anytime you stepped into a room, he’d always have an excuse up his sleeve to leave, which raised your suspicions.

The final blow was him walking past you, ignoring anything you did to grab his attention. That was a new low, especially from him.

Of course, deeper relationships with the Jedi were prohibited, both of you knew, but did you truly deserve to be treated like this?

Absolutely not. So you followed him, right down to the war room hallway, filled with Jedi and clones.

“Anakin—please!” In a flash of helplessness, you call out to him, causing heads to turn from all around, just not his. Not yet.

Your voice was low, trembling.

“You can’t keep doing this, I don’t even know what we are anymore—If we’re anything, if we ever were—“

Your words were cut off with Anakin turning around, a blank expression on his face. He didn’t even let you finish.

“General L/N,” He trails off, loud enough for the other Jedi to hear. “These kinds of..forbidden feelings are unacceptable within the Jedi code.”

The room was silent. Dead quiet. It’s like time was completely stopped.

Your breath stopped, lips slightly parted, eyebrows scrunched and eyes already filled with tears. You didn’t expect such humiliation.

“Is that really what it was to you?” Your voice shaky, trembling, but he didn’t react. Not one bit. He just turned around and walked away. Stiff, unreadable.

Leaving you in absolute pieces under a thousand, watchful eyes.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[awhhayden]

GOD BLESS YOUR DADS GENETICS ⋆˚࿔ [PT.3]

CONTAINS : [fem!reader x dilf!james x son!sam]

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone cheating, this is fictional and all characters are 18+ [ NO INCEST ] TW: cheating, smut, 18+

read pt.1 read pt.2

It was late, and the house had gone quiet—just the low hum of the fridge downstairs and the occasional creak of old floorboards settling. You should’ve gone to bed an hour ago, but the light under James’s door was still on.

You didn’t knock.

The door creaked open slowly, and there he was—shirtless, sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed as he looked down at the book in his hands. He looked up when he heard you, eyes dark under the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

“You lost?” he asked, voice rough and tired.

“Not exactly,” you said, stepping inside. You shut the door behind you with a soft click.

James watched you carefully, eyes trailing the oversized t-shirt you wore— it was Sams shirt though it used to be his shirt, it hung just long enough to leave everything to the imagination. You saw his jaw tighten, just a little.

“You always read this late?” you asked, voice soft as you sat on the edge of his bed.

James glanced up from the worn paperback in his hands, a little slower than usual. His brows lifted like he was surprised you noticed. “Can’t sleep sometimes.”

You nodded, drawing one leg up on the bed, turning slightly to face him. “What is it?”

He held up the cover for you to see—some beat-up noir novel with a creased spine and dog-eared corners. “Nothing fancy.”

You leaned closer to look, resting your hand beside his on the blanket, and that was the moment it all started to unravel for him.

Because suddenly, your knee brushed his thigh. And you were in that damn shirt, bare legs curled up like you didn’t know what it did to him. You smelled like lavender and skin-warm comfort, and your hair was still a little messy from where you’d been tossing in your own bed—until you wandered into his room like it was no big deal.

He looked back at the book.

Tried to.

You tilted your head, still unaware—or maybe just pretending to be. “You like it?”

“I—” James cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s… I mean, it’s decent.”

You smiled. “You sound real convincing.”

He was still trying to keep his eyes on the page. Still failing.

Because now your fingers were absentmindedly brushing his blanket. Close. Too close.

And then you said, “What’s it about?”

That was it. That was the last straw.

James dropped the book to his lap, hand still gripping it like it might keep him grounded. His eyes met yours, hungry and desperate and so done pretending.

“You wanna know what it’s about?” he said, voice low, rough.

Your breath caught. “Yeah?”

He leaned in—just a little, just enough. “It’s about a guy who’s been trying real hard to keep his hands off the girl who keeps showing up in his space like she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

You blinked, lips parting. “James—”

“I can’t do this tonight,” he said, voice tighter now. “Can’t pretend I’m not thinking about you sitting in my bed with that damn shirt and bare legs and those eyes that keep looking at me like I’m not gonna do something about it.”

You swallowed, pulse racing. “Then don’t pretend.”

That was all it took. The book hit the floor with a soft thud.

And James was on you before you could breathe.

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing the shirt higher as he kissed you—deep, hot, possessive, like he was claiming every second he’d been too afraid to take.

No more questions. No more pages.

Just James, undone.

And you, finally the reason why.

His mouth found yours, tongue sliding against yours, rough stubble brushing your skin, his hands moving like he’d been planning this in his head for weeks. Maybe he had. Maybe every time you sat too close or wore one of his shirts or said his name like that, it chipped away at the wall he’d built.

And now? Now there was nothing left but need.

James groaned low in his throat as he pushed you back against the pillows, settling between your thighs like he belonged there. Like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“Do you know,” he muttered against your neck, dragging his lips along your pulse, “how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. “Then stop trying.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you—eyes dark, jaw tight, chest rising fast. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Right now.”

“I want you,” you whispered, breathless. “I’ve always wanted you.”

And that was all he needed.

He kissed you again, deeper, while his hands pushed that sleep shirt up inch by inch. His touch was firm but reverent, like he needed to feel every inch of skin he’d been denied. He pulled the shirt off over your head and just looked at you for a second, lips parted, eyes drinking you in.

“Fuck,” he said, almost like a prayer.

Then he leaned down, kissing down your chest—slow, wet, open-mouthed kisses that burned like heat and promise. His tongue circled one nipple, then the other, making you arch up into him, his hands pinning your hips down like he didn’t want to rush.

But he was hard. So hard against you, still in those gray sweatpants, and the friction was driving you both insane.

“Take these off,” you gasped, tugging at the waistband.

“Desperate already?” he teased, voice wrecked. But he stood anyway, tugging them down and off. And when he climbed back over you, bare now, skin flushed and wanting—you reached for him instantly, pulling him back into the heat of your body.

He slid a hand between your thighs, fingers finding you slick and aching.

“Shit,” he groaned, rubbing slow circles. “You’re already so wet for me.”

You nodded, lips parted. “James, please—”

He lined himself up, teasing your entrance, dragging the tip along your folds just to feel how ready you were.

Then, with one slow, controlled thrust, he sank into you.

You both moaned—deep and low, the kind of sound that fills a room and settles in your bones. He was thick, stretching you perfectly, and he didn’t move right away. Just stayed there, forehead pressed to yours, letting the moment settle in his chest like it mattered.

Because it did.

“Been thinking about this since the day I met you,” he said, voice broken.

“Then show me,” you whispered. “Show me how bad you want me.”

And he did.

He rocked into you with slow, deliberate thrusts at first—deep, powerful, hitting every spot just right. But it didn’t take long before the tension in his jaw gave way, and he started fucking you like he couldn’t get deep enough, like he needed to live inside you to breathe right.

Your hands clutched his back, nails digging in, head thrown back as your moans filled the room. And James? He couldn’t stop saying your name—over and over, like it grounded him, like it was the only thing that made sense.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed, voice rough in your ear. “You’re mine. You feel that?”

You nodded, nearly crying out as your body tightened around him. “James, I’m—”

“I know. Let go for me. Come on, baby.”

You fell apart beneath him, trembling, clenching around him as waves of heat washed over you—and the second you did, he let himself go too, thrusting hard one last time before burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a loud, wrecked groan.

The room fell quiet after.

Just panting. Heartbeats. The weight of everything you hadn’t said, now lingering in sweat-slick skin and tangled limbs.

James didn’t move right away. He stayed there, inside you, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your neck like he was scared this would disappear.

And you just held him. Because you didn’t want it to end either.

oh naur, is sam gonna find out? or is he just as guilty… 🙈 pt four soon!!

TAGLIST: @haydensheartt @anakinstwinklebunny @fredswrite @speaknow-sw @divineani @bxbyysstuff @loverforoldermen @weixuldo @garretthedlundisbae @ludarg15 @sflame15-blog @alealuvshayden @ihearthayden @starrdream @cherriies-snake @elorareads

I tagged everyone that asked to be tagged in part 3.

ask to join!!