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neetily · 2 months

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Dummy — (SDV) Sam + Sebastian

— ✧ warnings: virgin reader, threesome, dubcon, victim Blaming, manipulation, lots of kissing, saliva, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, nipple sucking, praise, overstimulation, creampie, just the tip, tongue sucking, cervix fucking — ✧ word count: 12,723

— ✧ A/N: reposting some favs from my old account! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

“What do you mean you’ve…”

“Never… Kissed anyone before?”

Doubt drips their words, emphasis pushed onto the offending action of kissing — you’re lying, aren’t you? Because to Sebastian, one of your dearest and closest friends , he can’t imagine a pretty girl like you still yet keeping her kissing virginity for God sake, let alone any kind of virginity! He’s always imagined you must have sneaked off with Alex one late saloon night, and he’s hypothesised with Sam before that maybe you had fooled around with Abigail during a sleepover, or— well, something … Anyone, really. And yet here you were, anxious fingers twiddling tight into sheets while you try to avoid their scepticism laced gaze. A staring contest ensues. Not one formally introduced, but one borne out of disbelief, and in your case: embarrassment. Where Sam begins the questioning, it’s only natural for Sebastian to follow; seeing as how in tune they are with each other. Two twisted peas in a pod, you really shouldn’t have told them that.

Which is why the moment their eyes meet they instinctively understand what must follow your little revelation. Your best kept secret, surely held close to your shy little bunny heart out of fear of judgement, or worse, prey . It’s only natural for them to be curious, right? It’s a big scary world out there, you should be thankful that you only have to face two of them tonight, little prey.

Because that’s what you are at the end of the day, or at least it is when you’re snuggled up securely under Sebastian’s bed sheets. Tugging on the fabric as if doing so would somehow hide your bashful expression from your best friends watchful eyes, but they know you better than that. Just like how they knew what actions you’d take before you took em during the long forgotten about Solarian Chronicles game earlier that night. Whether or not you choose to display your cute rosy cheeks to them was irrelevant; because they knew. They knew you’d regretted the decision to play a friendly round of truth or dare the minute you agreed, and they knew this was too good an opportunity to pass up on tonight. With both his parents out for the evening, and Maru attending an extended trip with the doc out of town… It was a no brainer for Sebastian to have his two best friends stay over for a few nights.

Which is to say… Sam was in on it the whole time, you know? Trapping you in the metaphorical dungeon that is Sebastian’s basement room, cornering you under the guise of some friendly games late at night—which you should know by now is a bad idea, but when he thinks about it, Sebastian decides your naivety is but one of your many charms—however, neither one of them could have ever imagined you’d offer yourself up to them like this on a silver platter. He can tell Sam is just as surprised and eager about your spilled secret as he is given the soft glint in his friends eye, the way Sam’s gaze matches his own half lidded nature as you bury deeper under the sheets in a pitiful attempt to escape some unforeseen instinctual threat.

Him, a threat? No, never , you sweet thing… He’s about to reassure you of just how docile he really is with sugary lies and faux platitudes. But your meek tone effectively shuts him up, and he’d be a fool not to watch you dig your hole even deeper.

“It’s— Um, it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything… Right?”

Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl. Unbeknownst to you, both Sam and Sebastian are intricately connected, thinking the exact same disgusting thought the moment you spilled your prized secret. If you haven’t kissed anyone, then… You must be a virgin too, right ? Like, with sex . Cause, despite their previous late night discussions surrounding you, there’s no way you’d have fucked by now given how bashful you are at admitting your untouched lips, and when Sebastian takes a quick glance Sam’s way he recognised the awful smirk his friend is now wearing.

He unknowingly adopts it too.

Because in the midst of your sweet little sniffs and reddened cheeks, they’ve already came to an agreement. An unspoken one, communicated through flickers of vision and a previous shared longing to have you where you sit right now. You’ve got no idea just how long they’ve wanted you like this, scared and alone, easy to dominate in the dark of the basement. It sounds bad when he puts it like that, but really what he means is: unable to refuse. To confuse and mislead you right into their arms, if that’s what it takes. Which is what it’s come to, seeing as after all this time you’re still a silly little virgin. Poor girl , they’ll fix you tonight.

It’s Sebastian who speaks up first, knowing better than anyone that Sam has a far too easily excitable attitude to approach the tense situation with any tact. Which is what you need before the main event, surely. See, he’s not evil , just a little selfish. He’ll provide you with the comfort you’re obviously seeking, if it means he can get in your pants later tonight.

“No, no,” He coos, standing from his computer chair to stalk over to his bed, gently dropping his weight on the edge of it to sit beside you, remaining cautious not to scare you off with anything other than absolute acceptance. Because deep down he’s thankful , and he’d like to show you just how much. “It’s not a big deal, promise .” A smile follows, meaning well to ease your apparent apprehensions, but he’s not so sure he can hide his deplorable excitement from you well enough, an ache in his cheeks present when he thinks about how hard this must be for you to admit. Which is silly, really, but he can understand why you must be so ashamed when in his company; even if only because he knows himself too well. To combat his worries, he places a friendly open palm where he thinks your hidden thigh must be, and he’s happy to have found it when you lower the bed sheets just a little , enough to give both men purchase into you. His eyes flit to Sam once more, a small narrow to them as a warning. Patience . Do not frighten the poor bunny, okay?

A few rubs up and down and you’re already opening up to them, so easy are you in your innocence. He continues the conversation when it naturally lulls, noticing that you’re clearly shivering with anxiety in the face of their acceptance, and he’s eager to keep whittling down your fight or flight response until you feel safe again; that’s when they can pounce. And really, it’s your own fucking fault for getting yourself into this position, yeah? What girl in their right mind would think anything other than indulgence when her two best friends— who just so happen to be horny men —invite her to a private sleepover? Dummy , you must be wanting this, right? You’re just playing coy, aren’t you? “If anything, it’s kinda cute,” he squeezes at your thigh to reassure, inwardly laughing to himself when you continue to clam up, pretending to be shy when he’s got you all figured out.

Or, the alternative is fine with him too. Maybe you really aren’t aware of your position tonight, left completely blind to the obvious trap orchestrated by himself and Sam. If that were true, then you deserve a sickening reality check anyway. See, either way he holds no guilt. Either you wanted this, or you deserve this. Which makes things easier for him, convincing himself that there’s no harm in pushing if the result is the same.

“Ain’t that right, Sam?”

“Sure is.” Sam grins back at him, wide and unassuming, a friendly face to coax you out of your self imposed shell. It’s Sam’s biggest strength, Sebastian thinks. His childhood friend has always resembled the sun in that way, all smiles and platitudes; exactly what you need tonight. “Been savin’ yourself, or…?”

Fuck , good question. Too wrapped up in his own selfish desires, it hadn’t even occurred to Sebastian that you might be doing just that, awaiting some sort of faux right time before giving yourself away to someone special; but aren’t they special enough for you? Both him and Sam, your bestest of friends, crowding around you so ardently in the relatively open basement room as Sam joins you on the bed, opposite Sebastian, aren’t they your special friends? It couldn’t hurt too much to give them just a taste, right? Just a little, it’s what they’re owed for protecting you for so long. If not them, then who? A bubble of jealousy prompting him into squeezing your thigh once more, the possessiveness in it easily misconstrued as guarding. Would that he could remain in his indulgent dream of corrupting his sweet and innocent little friend, you snap him out of his dirty mind with a docile little head shake, the squeak of your voice drawing him back to reality as you deny them the right of depravity for now.

“N-No, no… Nothing like that… It’s just— Uh, I guess it just never happened? I uh… I dunno why…”

God, the shake in your voice goes right down to Sebastian’s cock, and he has to fight the urge to pet at it right in front of you like this. How downright pitiful you sound when elaborating, unsure and cautious, fearful of their judgement even if they’d do no such thing— No, because you’re being such a good girl for them already, you deserve approval in return for your honesty.

“S’all right, I was a late bloomer too, y’know.” Sam snickers, easing what Sebastian assumes is the obvious sexual tension as if it were nothing, watching as Sam leans back against the bed wall as if his cock wasn’t also twitching now that they were so close to you. Closer than ever before, so close that they can fucking smell the desperation coming off of ya. “Think Seb was too, werent’cha?”

It takes Sebastian a moment to register the words sent his way, far too busy wetting his lips to the thought of making you cry to pay attention to the conversation. Cause he could, y’know? He could have made fun of you for still being an untouched virgin, bully you into submission until you’re begging for the sweet release of his fat cock, until you see no other choice than to accept his cruel treatment as forgiveness. But he refrains, his thumb instead smoothing over your blanket covered thighs as the sheets lower further still from your frame, a consistent reminder that his kind treatment is bearing fruit. “Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand, staring off into space only to distract himself from the cute pout of your lips, because if he looks for another fucking second he’s liable to jump you right there and then, biting at his own lips to calm his racing heart in the face of your devout innocence. God he wants to ruin you , corrupt your naive view of the world with his pervert cock and take advantage of your clueless attitude until all you know is him and Sam. It’s what they’re due.

He’s lying, of course. Him and Sam had messed around when they were much younger, exploring their sexual appetites together as a regular occurrence ever since. Fuck, even Abi had joined in every now and then, so he’s surprised to see you so easily accept their lie as truth. He’d assumed Abi had maybe told you about their shared experiences, maybe even invited you on occasions despite you never showing up— but the dumb look you adopt tells him otherwise. Upon hearing Sam’s initial misleading statement, he instinctively knew to lean into it. Butter you up or something, he doesn’t really know. It’s getting difficult for him to reason with himself when your tits are just begging for his lips around them, the barely there tank top you’d decided to wear tonight given his reminder that his room runs hot is just calling to him , leaving him struggling to think straight.

“So uh… Don’t even worry ‘bout it, okay?” He smiles again, cheeks burning from the constant reassurance he’s trying to offer you. It’s the best he can come up with when all his mind can focus on is the swell of your tits and how bad he wants to taste them for the first time in your life.

“Have you done anything ?” Sam is quick to follow up, and Sebastian is happy to have the spotlight off of him for a moment, allowing him to eye up the space between your tits and your shirt, doing his best to remain undetected as he takes a peek down. It’s a bad idea, he knows it is the moment he does it, eyes instinctively rolling to the back of his head with a hushed gasp escaping his open lips. Tight fucking body, fuck — your fault, remember?

Silence befalls the room and he holds his breath, afraid that if he doesn’t then a moan will slip out from how eager he is to have you— been waiting for this exact moment for as long as he can remember. Sam too, honestly; a shared crush that allowed them to work together, a disgusting alliance built purely on a need to claim you as their own. Their best friend. Their innocent little bunny who needs to be bred, yeah? And when he lifts his gaze from your tits to your face for a brief moment, all he can see is how hard you look down, staring the same spot he was with a blush adorning your cheeks. Cute . So fucking pretty that he wants to eat you right up. Quickly gazing at Sam yields the same result, a cocky smirk on his friends face before a fists raises to chew on.

Yeah , Sebastian thinks. Me too.

“Uh… I, well—”

They already have their answer, but it’s so fun making you get all shy like this; the payoff assumedly going to be even sweeter when they eventually coax you out of this timid behaviour. “It’s okay, you know you can always be honest with us, sweetheart.” Sam pouts, finger under your chin to tilt your face up at the sun, and Sebastian doesn’t miss the audible gasp the bold move knocks out of you.

“No. I haven’t, um… Y’know…”

Oh, this is fun.

“Haven’t what?” Sebastian grabs your attention now, repeating Sam’s action but instead directing your vision to him , a soft angel smile on his lips to try and entice you further into him, to force you into saying those dreaded words that you’ve surely spent a lifetime avoiding; but if only you’d admit them, then he’ll reward you nicely. Been so good so far, don’t give up on him now.

“Haven’t… I haven’t uh, had… Sex… Or, really much of anything…” You trail off into soft embarrassed laughter, barely audible over the thump of his own heart, or the sudden shuffle of sheets under Sam’s weight. He’d scold Sam if doing so didn’t immediately give away his own position, and so instead he follows suit. If ya can’t beat em, then join em. Inching closer towards you so that you’re sandwiched between their shoulders, the brush of his hand up and down your thigh surely able to be passed off as a friendly action only, right? And not the lewd action of temptation, a lure to reel you in.

“That’s okay.” He says, more of a whisper than anything, which was an accident at best. Simply stunned by the gift you’ve given them tonight, cock twitching in his pants to be buried inside of you already— show you what you’re missing out on, or maybe, to shamelessly show himself what he could have been fucking years ago. But the way his hushed words catch your attention urges him to continue the soft tone, if only because it distracts you from how horny he is— and nothing has really even happened yet. Embarrassing, but understandable. Any man would surely agree; he’s stuck a gold mine with you tonight, and you know no better than if he were to play the role of the virgin with how hard he’s already gotten at your confessions. “In fact… I’d argue it’s pretty cute.” He repeats himself, unable to conjure up anything more worthwhile saying when he’s focusing so hard on not sticking his dick in you already.

“For sure. Super cute, even.” Sam adds, though his voice is much more boisterous and causes you to shiver against Sebastian, which he happily accepts with an arm wrapped securely around your shoulder.

“Mhm… But, aren’t you at least curious ?” He asks nonchalantly, “About how it feels?”

He can feel you tremble some more, leaning further into him in apprehension. Your hearts probably racing by now, right? Two men leaning against you in a hidden basement up in the mountains. Regardless of the familiarity, even innocent lil you can recognise what that means, surely. Fuck , no one but them would hear you during the night, the thought alone causing his cock to leak some more in his underwear. The implication is right there , sweetheart; and yet he waits patiently for your virgin mind to play catch up to it.

“I mean, a little?” You answer honestly, questioning lilt at the end of your confession as if seeking their approval.

“It’s only natural, after all.” Sam interjects, hand lifted to play with the loose strands of your hair absentmindedly; except it’s not. Not really. In fact, it’s intentional , and Sebastian knows it to be so given the half-lidded nature of Sam’s gaze on your lips. Which, of course, you’ve got no way of witnessing. Your eyes glues to the pattern of Sebastian’s sheets, staring as if they were the most interesting thing in the room right now, instead of the correct answer being that of your admission of want . “We could help, if you wanted.”

Sebastian knows that Sam is only suggesting because this would be a whole lot easier if they made you think that tonight was your idea , rather than a best laid plan of their own. “Yeah, s’not fair that you’ve been left out, right?” He adds on himself, quick and sharp, disallowing you room to think to better their chances of getting lucky tonight. Squeezing your shoulder softly to hopefully coax you out of your understandable anxiety and instead onto your back where you belong.

“Ah, wait!” Your voice is louder than it’s been tonight, panic stricken in the face of their offer. Which Sebastian understands, but still he chews on his bottom lips before he gives into his need to pin you down. Shut you up . “It’s— Wouldn’t that be weird , right?” You laugh, and the sound would be sweet if not for the fact that it was standing in the way of both Sebastian and Sam getting what they so desperately wanted. “I mean— we’re friends . Friends don’t—”

“What, kiss?” Sam scoffs, but his expression remains friendly. Needs to, really. Because despite the assumed shared frustration between them, Sebastian glares at him to keep on your good side. Of course they could take you without much issue, fight back against your retaliations by working together to get you naked, manoeuvring you into whatever position they so please simply because they want to . But, it’s easier this way, no? A little more upfront effort, but the end will be much sweeter. “I mean fuck , me and Seb do it all the time!”

It’s not a lie, but seeing your expression turn to one of shock makes him think that you think it’s a lie, so Sebastian takes the opportunity to swiftly settle the score.

“S’true. Friends can kiss, promise it’s not weird.”

“Really?” You immediately interrogate, head tilted up to properly look at him, and God you’re so cute like this , disbelief lacing your tone even after his confirmation. Are you thinking about them kissing right now? Imagination running wild with what your two best friends must have been up to all this time together? Jealous that you weren’t included?

“Really,” Sebastian’s hand leaves your shoulder to instead gently cup the back of your neck, rubbing up and down your nape in an effort to convince you of his words. “Do you wanna try?” he questions only as a formality. He’d going to kiss you tonight whether you want to or not, but it’s nice to be nice sometimes, y’know?

There’s a pause before you answer, considering your options as they creep closer together. Not enough that you’d notice given how full your empty lil mind is, but the nearer Sebastian gets to you, the more he notices. Your faint scent, how warm your body feels; must be from embarrassment, or perhaps excitement at the prospect of his lips on yours? Fuck , he’s certainly excited himself. Cock leaking beads for you as you make him wait, the hand he has on your neck ever so slightly pinching to get your attention back on him.

“What d’ya say?” he questions when you look up at him, and he has half a mind to immediately lock lips with you to quell his trembling cock, twitching eagerly from how downright dumb you look with those pouty lips and furrowed brows. Too cute — far too cute to be as innocent as you claim, but the quiver in your voice tells him otherwise.

“Um… Only if that’s okay… With both of you, I mean. But just a kiss, okay?”

Got you.

Stupid little mouse, rolling over to show your tummy so easily , even if you can clearly see his salivating open maw. It’s like you want to get eaten alive, not that he’s opposed to the idea. A kiss is all it’s gonna take for them to swallow you whole. After all, you’re just a dumb little mouse . You won’t know any better. But he has experience. He knows how to look after you the way you deserve, in tandem with Sam.

Of which, his friend takes the giddy lead with an excitable “So, who do you want to go first?”

A scolding rests on the tip of Sebastian's tongue, annoyance worming to his stomach in fear of Sam’s nature working against their plans, but when you timidly tug on the sleeve of his hoodie and he sees for the very first time that night genuine worry (or perhaps fear, they’re cousins), he can’t help but extend you a helping hand. And, if he’s honest, he’d really like to go first , acting the saviour to protect you from Sam’s hungry teeth out of selfish desire.

Your bottom lip wobbles before him and he tuts down at you quietly, lovingly. Only Sam can understand the triumph in the click, forcing Sebastian to suppress a laugh at the scowl his friend now wears. He inhales deeply before letting you in on a little secret at your indecision.

“You’re so pretty,” He pauses, waiting to see your bashful cheeks, all red hot thanks to his compliment. Good , you look so cute when awaiting his words. “But you’re so stupid .”

And oh the look you give him was worth the pause. Mouth open for him to instinctively stick his fingers into, your pretty eyes wide at his intrusion for him to admire. The first thing he notices is how your tongue is so soft , unexplored for him to take advantage of with his sweat soaked fingers. So stupid is right , why would you ever be so surprised at this turn of events? He can only imagine what it’d feel like to have your virgin tongue wrapped around his fat cock, struggling to take his face fucking while your throat closes up due to his rough treatment. Has his cock all hard and needy at just the thought, God he wants to , wants to shove his pervert cock right against your cheeks, smear dirty precum all over your lips like gloss, see how well you cry for him— but a little whimper you gag around his fingers convinces him otherwise. Fuck —

“Sorry—” He laughs, deep and genuine, removing his fingers from your open mouth only to hear you sputter for air. “Didn’t mean to scare ya, promise. It’s just— Ah , you looked too cute, y’know? Couldn’t help myself.” He admits honestly, but the way in which he does so comes across as pandering , another attempt to allude to the fact that this was all your idea, remember? If only you weren’t so pretty.

Alas, with his fingers removed and drying nicely in the cool air of his basement, he cups your cheeks without warning and moves closer, hovering his lips above your own. Teasing his taste, practically smirking against your lips when you openly gasp out for him at the sudden turn of events. A deep inhale later and he recognises familiarity. An insidious kind, burrowing deep to his heart as he looms. “Ready?” he whispers against you, still tenderly touching your cheeks as he dives in before you have a chance to answer. Payback for when you stole his opportunity to talk earlier, he muses to himself. Immediately poking his tongue out, slipping into your wanting mouth just like how your body is asking him to do— a groan escapes him and down your throat. The delicate touch on your cheek grows flat, before quickly moving to the back of your neck to grip . A tether to keep himself controlled as he drips saliva onto your tongue, mindful of the fact that you’ve got no idea what you’re doing, but that’s okay. It’s hot enough just to steal your first kiss from you, you can get better with time. Because this won’t be the last time you taste him, even if you don’t know it yet.

He presses closer against you, pulling away only to slowly push his lips back against yours. A soft smack filling his ears with how wet his tongue has gotten your lips to become. It’s an instinct for his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to himself as he makes out with you. So agonisingly slow that it even teases him, causing his gasps for air to become strained, his muscles to tense in their obsessive grip of your body. As if claiming mine , despite Sam watching the whole ordeal and waiting for his turn like a good dog. He feels you sink into him, reciprocating the kiss with a little more ease now that he’s taught you the proper motions, smiling to himself when you experiment by dragging your tongue against his own; and moaning with you when you let a whimper slip.

The desperate sigh that follows from your kiss bruised lips is almost just as sweet as your whines, prompting him into a wide grin. Saliva stains shining in the dim light of his room as your eyes catch on to where you’ve just explored.

“You’re good at least.” He half lies, rubbing his thumb against your waist to keep you preoccupied while Sam gets into position behind you. Sebastian admires the string of saliva keeping you attached to him in the meantime

It takes you a moment to collect your breath before reply, and he can’t help but smile down at you with adoration at how cute you are when getting taken advantage of. So much so that you play right fucking into it, d ummy . “Really? I mean, are you sure—”

Before finishing your question, Sam has your chin tilted back for your body to follow, landing your back against his chest and ass between his legs. “C’mere, s’my turn.” Is all Sam says before placing his lips on your own too, a greedy growl escaping him at the shared saliva between friends.

Sebastian tilts his head at the way your eyes widen, palm automatically coming into contact with his too hard cock to pet at while you’re being kissed. It’s interesting, really, to see what you look like when enjoying yourself; when you’re being exploited for selfish gain. You’re so pretty when prone, and if he hadn’t just endured your inexperienced kissing then he’d for sure assume you were still lying about being a complete virgin, but the way you clumsily hold on to Sam’s wrist for stability while he far too eagerly kisses you is cute if nothing else. Just like you, skin flushed and eyes squeezed tightly shut, the way you try to keep up with Sam’s agility by way of arching your back— a pretty fucking sight by the way, are you sure you’re actually a virgin? The whiplash you must be experiencing causes his cock to drool under his rough palm, circling the leaking tip to the sight of Sam’s free hand clutching your hair, pushing your face against his own with fervour. “See, told ya.” Sebastian praises you, heart fluttering in his chest when you attempt to respond, but Sam’s tongue is too overpowering. Choking your words before they even have a chance to sound— fuck , that’s so hot. Your gasped mewls and furrowed brows; he can barely stand it. Wants to stick his dick in you already, clawing at the wet fabric of his tight jeans while Sam eats your face.

Maybe he’s a little jealous, especially when he catches a glimpse of your cute tummy laid bare for his eyes to feast on. An immediate suck of air and a roll of his eyes to the back of his skull, hips instinctively rolling against his perverted paw from the tiniest show of skin. God , he’s— no, they’ve got it so bad for you and your stupid virgin mind can’t even begin to comprehend it, can you? How the sight of Sam’s hands travelling up and down your untouched tummy to eventually make groping actions at your chest sets his tummy aflame, equal parts envious and horny, a shiver of pleasure rolling down his spine when you sputter away from Sam’s lips to anxiously ask: “ Wait! Just— aren’t we just kissing, I—”

Too slow , Sam had manoeuvred your face back to his own for more sloppy sounding kisses for Sebastian to jerk his cock to. Silly little girl , it was never just kissing . He remembers how you had asked for that to be the case, but; neither one of them had promised , did they?

While Sam is busy sucking your face, Sebastian decides to indulge a little more in himself. He’d have liked to have taken things slower than his counterpart, but it’s difficult to blame Sam for his excitement when you’re quite literally in his lap; Sebastian knows he’d be unable to control himself if the roles were reversed too. Are you kidding? A pretty little virgin just begging for corruption, unsullied body receptive to their every touch. There’s so much he wants to do to you, yknow. So much he can do to you now that you’re distracted again, unintentionally slutty moans hummed down his friends throat.

First, he tugs his jeans off. Leaves his boxers on for now, it’s more fun that way, right? He crawls closer to you after throwing his clothing to the ground below, tapping on your knees to watch them easily fall apart for him. “ Fuck—” he sighs, slotting himself between your legs. “So easy , you’re trembling.”

Maybe the mention of such startles you, but Sam seems determined to keep sucking on your tongue, strings of saliva caught between his lips and yours, you’ve got no room to do anything else but whine for more. And you’ll get it, fuck you’ll get it, they’re determined now that they’ve had a taste . Moving his hands to either side of you and Sam, making sure to rest the tip of his cock against your still clothed hole, but fuck it already feels good, doesn’t it? To just have it sit there, twitching and drooling all over your clothes as a reminder of what you do to him, of how easily domesticated you are from just one messy kiss. He’d like to have heard your reaction, but there’s pleasure enough to be had in feeling your hips reflexively shift against him, cunt so close, teasing his resolve without even knowing it. A natural born slut, you’re lucky it was your friends that discovered this side of you and not someone more sadistic… As if they weren’t being mean enough themselves, biting on your lip and squeezing at the fat of your thighs.

Having you writhe under him prompts his hips to start moving, gentle rocks back and forth to contrast Sam’s abrasive groping, though Sebastian isn’t complaining when your shirt gets ruthlessly removed and your pretty tits are spilling out from your bra. Makes his head all fuzzy just looking at em, hands finding home on your waist to keep you pinned against his friend while he bucks his tip against your hidden hole. Even this feels too good, doesn’t it? To have all the attention, two hard cocks pressing at both your holes. Bet Sam’s leaking all over himself by now too, dripping onto your ass from how your sensitive body encourages them to continue. See , he thinks, you are asking for it .

“Isn’t this more fun, huh?” He asks, a hint of knowing on his tongue. “Y’sure look like it’s more fun, God — Look at’chu—” He mutters, only because he’s too focused on rocking his cock against your covered slit to have you making more of those pretty sounds you’re echoing into Sam’s mouth, rather than keeping track of exactly what he’s saying. Spilling dirty words for you in abundance as Sam gives you a moments respite, just enough time to undress his lower half. “Are you sure you’re a virgin?” He taunts you from above, knows that you’re too breathless to reply with the drool coating your cheeks. Sam’s always been a messy kisser.

It’s as you’re catching your breath that Sebastian moves you into a different position, growing impatient with Sam when he struggles with his underwear, though thankfully your face is turned from Sam when his cock finally snaps against his tummy. A low thud almost catching your attention, if not for the way Sebastian’s body covers your view as he helps you lay down with your back on his bed. “C’mon, catch your breath, pretty.” He coos at you, all soft and loving despite his degenerate thoughts about how sweet you look when struggling. Practically eye fucking you as his face hovers above you, propping himself into half sitting up to watch the conflict of tonights situation flash across your face. Cute , he mumbles to himself, before his vision drops to your bra and he thinks hot .

While you’re busy trying to ground yourself, Sebastian takes to dancing his fingertips down your chest, ghosting over your tummy, until eventually reaching the band of your bottoms. He pings at them a few times, relishing in the wince you send him each time the fabric smacks against your soft skin. Until eventually, his fingers dig under your clothing to help leverage Sam into hauling them off. So badly does Sebastian want to take a peek, just a small glance down at your panties, selfish desire pooling in his cock as it twitches against your side. But he’s got time, he can take it slow; even if Sam refuses to do so himself.

“I— Wait, please . I need a second before—”

“Aha… Oops .” Sebastian mocks, pressing his fingers against your slit once he feels that Sam has dragged your underwear completely off. Only, he groans with his words too, pained at just how wet your little cunt has already gotten from some light foreplay. Just a little kissing and you’re soaked , you really must be a virgin, right? Oh you sweet thing , if you’re this wet already, then you’ve got no hope of surviving until the end of the night. The thought of which only turns Sebastian on some more, prompting him into matching the rooms state of undress as he lets his cock free with a heavy sigh, incidentally smearing precum all over your bare hips while the pads of his fingers explore your virgin cunt. So fucking hot, holy shit—

“ Relax , baby,” Sebastian isn’t sure if Sam had meant to sound so condescending, but he can’t deny how hot it is to see one of his best friends so dangerously out of control when face to face with your cunt. He takes a look at Sam upon hearing how strained his voice is, and the look of sheer desperation painted on his face is enough to convince Seb to start toying with your clit. Little circles, barely there if he’s being honest, but of course it’s enough to get your untouched body reeling . Wiggling and croaking, the feeling of your hand grasping on for dear life onto his shirt only serving to rile him up further, makes him buck his cock against your waist a little more intentional. He can’t stop himself even if he tried, snapping his vision back to you to watch you fall apart on his meagre touch.

If you’re this fun to toy with now, he can hardly wait till he’s got his cock in you. Fat beads of precum leaking all over you as Sam lowers to your cunt level, heart racing in his chest at the prospect of deflowering you in such a nasty way. You can’t even decline their advances, not when Sebastian continues flicking your clit, dragging his fingers down your slit to dip into your heated hole. A gasp escapes him upon coming into contact with your wetness, slick coating his fingers with a gush as he angles his hand downwards; allowing Sam enough room to nose against your puffy clit.

“Fu-uck ,” Sam whines, all broken and needy as he sniffs your slit. “Oh my God ,” He continues, Sebastian taking the opportunity of distraction to start pumping your little hole with a single finger while Sam drools over your cunt with slurred words. Can’t fight back when you’ve lost your voice to moans, can you? “Smell so good— Wanna lick it so bad, fuck , wanna taste you—”

“Go on then.” Sebastian encourages Sam, spreading your cunt open for ease of access, and he’s surprised to hear just how breathless his voice sounds when he’s got you whining into his chest, blushing cheeks buried against his shirt like earlier with his sheets. Can’t get enough of him, can you? Not that he’s doing any better, practically ready to bust just from curling a single finger inside of you, cursing quietly to himself when his flicks earn a full body shiver from you. You’re already so fucking tight, just barely able to take his single finger inside— the thought of having that tightness wrapped around his cock causes him to throw his head back.

And he knows Sam has started lapping at your cunt when you sob into him, soft and pretty cries crooned into bundled shirt. Fuuuuck , he needs you. Needs you so bad that his heart hurts to hear more, arm taut and muscles tight as he focuses on offering you precise flicks of the finger inside of you; gotta stretch you out properly to take his cock, yeah? And oh you’ll look so pretty when stuffed full, won’t you? He hopes you cry when he’s inside too, wrapping an arm under your back to secretly unclip your bra, taking a brief pause in fingering you only to throw it to the side. And when you’re fully exposed he keeps his arm under you, circling it back around to cradle you in his arms— and to be able to grope at your tits a little. He’s so mean , isn’t he? Leveraging your surely confused and vulnerable state against you, selfishly kneading and pinching at your pretty tits. Ah , he takes a quick look at them— or what he can see of them with your body twists to hide against him. It’s a mistake, of fucking course it is , given just how hard his cock already is— because the sight of them rising and falling harshly under his fingertips is almost too much to bare. Almost convinces him to shove Sam out of the way so that he can have you all to himself; that is until you arch towards him and he falls like moth to a lamp into your chest. Gently, mind you, lips latching on to your nipples with hunger . Dizzying desire clouding his judgement when he nips at them a little, growling delight against your tit as praise for taking his abuse so well. The unsure sounds you let out only spur him on to continue, cock tip slipping against your tummy with the amount of pre your coax out of him.

Slurps soon fill the air, mixing perfectly with the sweet squelch of his fingers diving in and out of your tight little cunt. It’s about time he introduces another, right? Otherwise you’ll be forced to take his cock unprepared, and though he intends to deflower you tonight, he’s not so mean as to make it hurt . Sneaking another finger in is easy with a loud suck of your nipples, he hopes to distract you from the stretch despite your telling whines. “ Shh, s’okay. ” He mumbles after popping off your tit for just a second, rubbing his nose against your head to grab your attention. “Doing so well… For a virgin, anyway.” He smiles when you meet his fond gaze.

Sam hums against your cunt and Sebastian matches the sound when he hears your gasp in return, keeping you attention with a nod towards Sam. “Look at ‘im.” He implores you, scissoring his fingers inside of you slowly , almost lazily so that you have more freedom to gawk at how eagerly Sam licks and sucks up and down your cunt. Hell , Sebastian can even feel his tongue run along his fingers at times too, assumedly trying to suck off all of your slick clean from your hole. Greedy , Sebastian thinks to himself. I want a taste too.

He moves with you, peering over to take a look at the mess between your legs, and involuntarily grinds his hips into you at the sight that greets him. How dirty he feels, fingers glistening with your slick, Sam’s face obscured between your folds— but his saliva still stains your thighs. “Shit—” he sighs, suddenly increasing the speed at which his fingers curl inside of you. An increasingly loud squish emanating from your hole with how slippery they’ve got you causes his head to hang low, more focused than ever to have you cum for the first time on his fingers; he’s selfish . Wants that taste of you too.

“ Ah—! No, wait—” you immediately fall back— always with the wait with you, haven’t they proven their worth to you yet? You should trust them to look after you by now, given that Sam’s tongue sucks those pretty high pitched moans out of you, and Sebastian’s fingers fuck silent gasps to crawl up your throat. “Feels— No, ah—! Feels weird!”

“Dummy.” Sebastian lets out a dry snicker, doubling his efforts of making you cum now that he knows you’re close. It’d be laughable knowing how clueless you really were; so much so that you don’t even know what’s happening to you right now, if not for the way he has to physically tense up his whole fucking body so as to not cum with you, excitement shivering down his spine at the prospect of granting you the pleasure of your first proper orgasm. See, isn’t he so nice? Sam too, the way he digs his nails into the fat of your thighs with an iron grip, keeping your cute cunt still for him to service— because that’s what they’re doing right now. They’re servicing you , offering up themselves to you for your own benefit. They’re not taking advantage of anything: you might be a virgin, but you’ve got the body of a slut, your approaching orgasm only serving as further proof of your promiscuity. “You’re close, just give in baby.” He both encourages and clues you in, picking up the pace some more; a brutal speed unbefitting a virgin like you, but the look of sheer enjoyment on your face is inspiration enough to continue. “ C’mon , give it to me, yeah?” his tone is leering , downright insidious with lust, spilling from his lips just like second nature. It’s what ruining filthy virgins like you does to him, apparently. “Jus’ wanna make you feel good, jus’ helping a friend out, remember?” Lies . But you’d believe anything coming from his dishonest lips wouldn’t you, especially when you’re on the cusp of something that feels so good , right? Both tongue and fingers coaxing your orgasm out, a few more seconds is all it takes for his eyes to narrow in on your angry expression, cunt quivering around his skilful fingers with plenty grip to leave him just itching to fuck you. And fuck— the sounds you make . High strung and erotic, more so than he’s ever heard you before. Instantly, he registers your moans as addictive. Wanna hear that again, wanna make you sound like that some more, keep gasping our names all pretty like that—

But he’s kind, remember? He wouldn’t be knuckle deep in your pretty little cunt if he wasn’t at least sort of generous, crooking his fingers against your warm insides gently, massaging your walls sympathetically to help you properly ride out your very first orgasm— how cute. How completely adorable it is to be finger fucking you through one of your first naughty experiences ever, and on his bed no less! A memory he’ll keep with him for as long as he lives, if only to bully you about it later down the line. And of course, he can’t forget about the help Sam has offered you, and he wants to make sure you don’t too.

“Look so pretty when cumming, angel.” He coos at you, faux sweet tone hummed against the top of your head as he scissors inside of you two more times before pulling out, not missing the way you involuntarily whine at the loss of fullness. Dirty girl , you’re a quick learner if nothing else. A woman after his own heart. And by that he means; fucking needy . “Say thank you , remember.”

Despite you dazed state, still in the midst of what must be a mind blowing experience, you find the strength to look up at him with a dopey smile that tugs on his heartstrings. “Thank— S-Sam , stop!”

“ Sorry—” Sam heaves, eventually pulling away from your creaming cunt with his tongue still lolled and a face full of shine. Sebastian thinks he’s pretty like that; almost as pretty as you are when you sigh before following orders. Good , he likes them submissive. And from your subservient attitude thus far tonight, he bets you’ll be a good fuck too— in spite of your virgin status. Not for long now if he has anything to do with it. And given how soft and pliable you are in his arms right now, he thinks he’s got more than a fighting chance at claiming you for the very first time; so that no one else can. Well , besides Sammy, but that’s a given.

Sebastian taps your thigh with his cum covered fingers to get your attention again, now that Sam has stopped diverting you with wolfish laps. “You were saying?” He prompts you again, placing a chaste kiss to the top of your head while he idly grabs and tugs at your hip.

“Um— Thank you… For, y’know… All that.” You sheepishly sigh, which can only mean one thing.

Reality is settling, isn’t it? The fact that you friends have just fucked you into submission, tore your first group orgasm out of you without a care in the world. Sebastian wonders about what you must be thinking right now. Do you regret it, or are you just shy? Given the slight tremble still present in your legs as Sam kisses down them, awaiting Sebastian’s instructions, he thinks you must have enjoyed yourself at least. He’s experienced Sam’s tongue enough times to know how deceptively adept he is at using it. But, in the off chance that you might be feeling the beginnings of repentance, Sebastian’s quick to act.

“There’s no need to thank us yet—” He huffs, pulling away from your side only to manhandle you into a different position. You’re still drunk off that high, aren’t you? It’s easy to tell since you’re so easy to move, without a single word he’s able to mould you into shape. “We’re just getting started.”

And there it is. A flicker of recognition in your glassy eyes, the threat of welling tears as you suddenly understand that you had only asked for a kiss; a fairly simple act in and of itself, no? Innocent , even. And yet, despite your utter overstimulation thanks to Sam’s dog like tendencies to lick and lick and lick until the sun comes up, the thought that they have more to show you is overwhelming, isn’t it? Sure looks that way when you scrunch your nose up in confusion, eyes wide at the feeling of his hands ghosting your legs. It’s the cutest look in the world Sebastian thinks, finally tugging at his neglected cock after he’s got you in the perfect missionary position— except your head hangs low over the edge of the bed.

In the spirit of getting rid of your firsts, why not go all the way, right? It’s what Sebastian is thinking anyway as he drips globs of precum down onto your cunt. Accidentally, of course, but the picture is pretty all the same. Like a claim, mine .

The weight of what’s about to come must be heavy on your chest, hypnotising Sebastian as he watches it rise and fall in anticipation. Nobody moves once in position, all awaiting some sort of right moment to get started again— that is until you let out a little squeak. A pitiful sound, one that has his cock all twitchy and drooly.

“I don’t— I thought we were just gonna kiss . I don’t think I’m ready for— Ah! ”

He’s known to have some persuasive hands. Tickling up and down your trembling thighs, eyes trained on the bob of your throat when he inches just a little too close for comfort against your cunt. There’s no need to be shy now, you’ve just covered his sheets in cum.

“C’mon, you’re a big girl, aren’t you? Just the tip wont hurt. Promise we won’t go any further, right Sammy?”

Sam lags behind, catching Sebastian’s eye with a roll of his own, knuckles white where they grip at the edge of the bed— either side of your head. He wonders how Sam must look to you, from your angle where you hang off to stare at him from below. Does he look just as ruined as he does to Sebastian right now? Or maybe all you can see is cock. Heavy and heady, dangling just out of reach from your lips. Do you want a taste? And then, he can only imagine how he himself must look. Red hot cock jerking all over your front, so close he can practically taste your cunt already, experimentally letting his thumb hover close enough to spread your lips apart and— oh , what a pretty girl you are. All nice and wet, puffy little clit just begging for some more stimulation. He can’t hope to hold himself back now, huffing short bursts of air as he teeters on the edge of just shoving it in already , exhaling sharply through his nose like some sort of dog.

“Uh-huh.” Is all Sam offers, and Sebastian gets it. Really, he feels it on some sort of spiritual level. The cockiness to his friends tone, the curt nature of the response. They’re both at their limit, and they’re both seedy little liars who want nothing more than to just fuck you silly. To ruin a pretty virgin like you.

A rather simply ask, no?

“Won’t that… Y’know, hurt or something?” You mumble, shying away further from their faux promise. Sebastian only wishes he could see your expression at the same time as your timid question, he bets you wear worry well.

Regardless, he lines his leaking tip up to your sopping cunt despite your vocalised worries, impatience thick in his selfish action when he tugs at his tip a few times, biting down on his bottom lip so as to not embarrass himself by moaning at the slightest touch. Because he wants to, not even inside of you yet and he’s already close to painting you white. You were responding so well to them earlier, all pretty moans and sighs, so give them what they’re due. It’s only fair, right?

But still, he shrugs. Even if you can’t physically see it, he’s not fully present to provide an attentive answer to your understandable question anyway, easily sliding his tip between your folds slowly . Teasing himself more than anything, rutting himself to the edge just for fun. Because you’re under him, and he wants to. A quick gasp shared among friends at the slippery glide up and down reminds him of your position, jaw tight with barely there restraint as he hisses something, anything through his teeth. Just to get the ball rolling again.

“The tip? No, absolutely not.” How would he know? He’s not the one about to take cock right now. But he’d say just about anything if it meant he got to bury himself deep inside your tight virgin little hole. Not that his answer actually matters with the way Sam’s cock blocks your vision, jerking precum onto your chin just like how his cock hovers nears your hole— you’ll soon have no way your voice concern.

And the sooner that happens the easier for him, looking up at Sam for all but a second before his nails dig into your thighs to pry them open even wider, spurred on by the look of desperation Sam adorns when feeling the heat of your breath brush against his profusely drooling tip. Sebastian’s heavy cock slips and slides between your folds on a whim, his breath hot and fraught with absolute need to steal your virginity away in the worst way possible. But you’re soft, aren’t you? A shy little lamb, ripe for his brutal taking. He panders to you once more, preparing himself for what he assumes will be one of the best experiences of his life. Sullying his best friend— is there anything better?

“Just the tip, okay? You can do that for me, can’t you?” He sighs above you, both in love and frustration. You feel so fucking good already, he fucking hates it. “Promise it won’t go further, just the tip.”

“I— Guys, I’m not sure if I’m ready for this—” Oh, how cute you sound when so scared. It’s okay, he believes in you.

But more than that, Sam is at his limit. A forced groan garbs Sebastian’s attention away from watching his cock almost disappear into your tight hole, finger fucked and stretched for him , but Sam begs for attention.

“Course y’are. Why else would y’be this fuckin’ wet, huh?” He seethes, and the urgency lacing his words just does something to Sebastian’s brain. Short circuits it, forces him to reconcile with the fact that he’s never heard Sam get this agitated during sex before. It’s nice. It’s hot seeing his best friend all worked up like this, watching in slow motion as Sam angles his pretty cock to your lips only to smear precum all over them, a wet gloss coating the lower half of your face due to how much Sam needs you. Can’t you see? Can’t you feel the way Sebastian’s cock begs against your cunt, how your hips wiggle and shift under him as if asking for that which you’re so scared of. Don’t worry, he’ll hold your hand through it. S’not so bad when it happens, you might even enjoy yourself— though that part isn’t necessary.

There’s ought else left to do but join in on the fun, something that takes Sebastian a second to consider as he appears hypnotised by the sight of your lips parting automatically, like your body knows what to do even if you’ve never done it before yourself. A natural born slut , of course you’re going to enjoy yourself. Wet little cunt gushing around his cock before he’s even put it in; you’re pleading to be domesticated, aren’t you? And fuck the sound you make when Sam slyly slips inside of your wanting mouth? All muffled and choked, matching perfectly with Sam’s aggressively relaxed sigh into you.

Without a single thought else, he finally, fuck he’s been waiting so long for this moment, pushes inside of you. Just like he promised, only the tip. But immediately he has to tear his hands away from your thighs and instead plant them at either side of your waist to even hold himself upright, sheer pleasure striking down his spine for him to shiver into you, and then before he has a chance to even adjust to your tight little virgin cunt, he’s already setting a far too unfair pace even for himself to keep up with. Forget just the tip , fuck, are you kidding him? Pure desperation, unadulterated pleasure present in every stroke of his cock inside, fists balled into his sheets below to search for any semblance of control left— but your cunt sucks it out of him, just as well as your hole already sucks him off; you should be thankful he went through the extra effort of prepping you, especially when you’ve offered him your sweet seclusion tonight. And wow... You really must be a virgin from how immediately tight you are, he finds it difficult to fully rock into you until drawing his hips back a few times. He could have easily taken you as soon as you walked in, but fuck if he isn’t happy that he took the time to open you up. Help finger your first orgasm out of you so that you squeeze around his cock that little bit harder from overstimulation now that he’s inside, causing him to moan into the guttural sputters Sam’s face fucking pounds out of you.

He’s sure that if your throat wasn’t currently occupied with cock right now you’d be a whimpering mess for him, hips rolling into you with precision, a practised back and forth along your unkissed walls for him to ruin . Because that’s what he wants to do with you, wants to corrupt you to the point of shame, destroy any hope of you enjoying anyone else in future because no one but him and Sam could ever hope to have you feeling the way you do right now. The perfect mixture of fear and pleasure, unsure of what to focus on more— his balls slapping against your ass to leave a soft plap! sound filling the air, or the taste of Sam’s salty precum dripping down your throat.

He’s thrown out of his indulgent thoughts only because of Sam’s greedy gulps of air, the look of fervour should be illegal on him. “Shouldn’t— Ah, fuck , jus’ like that—” Sam cuts himself off, almost falling into you from how hard he leans over, back bent to better fuck your throat with. “Should you be wearing a— a condom, right?” he finally manages to force out in between humps and moans, but Sebastian doesn’t miss the sick smile Sam wears with his otherwise serious words. The shared understanding going straight to Sebastian’s cock at how mean they’re treating you right now, with no regard for your thoughts or feelings because you just feel that good . Even if he wanted to take you into consideration, every thrust inside of your tight little virgin cunt renders him useless, a mere babble of sighs and groans, emphasising his want for you with cruel humps and grabby hands at your waist. Tugging lightly at your skin for some kind of purchase, because his mind can scarcely keep up with every unfair squeeze your hole wraps around his length.

“Ah, probably—” Sebastian sighs, but there’s no intention behind it. Lazily fucking his cock inside of your almost too tight cunt, the mere thought of pulling out to put on a condom causing his heart to race. His mind to repeat no, no, it feels too good to leave now! “Jus’ a few more seconds, then— Then I will. Promise .” He whispers those last words to you, but you’d never be able to tell by the way he stares at your cunt, eyes trained on where his cock disappears inside; it’s more like he’s talking about you rather than to you.

“She feels— shit , feels so good, doesn’t she?” Sam half laughs, half moans into the feeling of your throat tightening around him at his dirty words. Sebastian can feel it too, the way your hole wraps even snugger, as if you were asking for more.

And it’s not that Sebastian disagrees, but the tight squeeze fit inside honestly just leaves him a little breathless. Brows furrowed in pure concentration not to bust a load inside of you already. He knew you were gonna be tight, but fuck aren’t you taking things a little too far? His hips stutter into you, all precision lost on him when you wriggle around under him, the sight of your hands clawing at Sam’s hips driving him insane with lust pooling in his tummy. Dirty girl , you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

“She’s a tight fuck, God , you gotta feel her, gotta fuck her—” Sebastian rambles, mind almost as much of a mess as his thighs currently are with your sticky slick and the gush of precum that dribbles down your ass to stain his sheets with every shove of his cock inside. Greedy , eager thrusts, fucking himself into a sweat that clumps his hair to his forehead, a few drops trickling down to hit your exposed tummy. Talking about you like you aren’t really there, just a hole to be fucked, an object they have the pleasure of using. And it’s a pleasure indeed, especially when Sebastian rocks his hips so deep into you that his tip kisses your cervix, prompting him to apply more weight to your sides for better leverage. A sharper angle to fuck you in, rough moans crawling up his throat at the gargled sounds you’re forced to make in response to the ruthless throat fucking Sam has you enduring. You look so cute when pliable, tits bouncing for Sebastian to become mesmerised to. He wants em back in his mouth, but he can’t slow his thrusts down enough to latch on.

But above, where Sam and Seb can look at each other, Sebastian notices how little distance is left between them. Both bent over your pretty body, taking what they want from you simply because they can. And in the heat of the moment, after a quick glance at each other, Sebastian’s tongue pokes out for just a second too long before Sam falls further forward, tongues meeting before lips eventually do too. Feeling his friends tongue glide against his own, and then eventually the weight of having his tongue sucked whilst being balls deep in your cunt has his cock throbbing hard, leaking more precum out against your walls to increase the already egregious wet slap of his thrusts. It’s all a bit too much even for him, let alone poor little virgin you, taking it in both holes because you’re in no position to fight back. And that turns him on even more too, openly moaning loud and clear down Sam’s throat while yours is getting fucked, swallowing every drip of saliva and needy groan Sam has to offer him while pinching at your sides for grounding. But it’s useless, isn’t it? With the way your insides squirm around his cock, how tight and taut his balls grow with every slap against your ass, the feeling of one of your hands wrapping so firmly around his wrist, like you’re scared that if you let go you’ll disappear, makes him sigh with adoration.

And he wants to reassure you that in spite of their rather inattentive and immoral actions tonight, they’re thankful to be using you, but Sam has one hand on your throat to feel his length hump up and down it, and the other at the back of Sebastian’s neck, effectively pinning him in position to suck some tongue. Not that he’s complaining, but God , with the way you cunt is forced to stretch to his size, a greedy need to fuck you into the shape of him, to leave your body printed on his sheets for the days to come, selfish desire dribbling from his tip and onto your cervix with every rapid thrust inside— barely able to catch his breath from Sam stealing it, humming between moans shared amongst friends because you feel so fucking good all tight like that, oh my God . It’s too much, he feels so good bullying his cock inside of you again and again, feeling the throb from tip to balls, drooling and trembling over your exposed front thanks to how messy of a kisser Sam is when lost in the feeling of your tongue massaging his length.

And the realisation suddenly hits him as he feels the all too familiar twitch in his cock, tummy doing a little flip as he forcefully removes his lips from Sam to take a sharp intake of air. A gasp, downright dirty in how he chokes on it, followed by a high pitched little whine that he wasn’t aware he could make— the things you do to him .

He’s fucking you . One of his best friends, a filthy little virgin in spite of how expertly your body reacts to his grabs and pulls, his head thrown back in pleasure only to swing the other way to hang low as his thrusts grow sloppier. Less precise and more feeling , unable to keep a consistent rhythm when your body knows exactly how to squeeze him just the way he likes, the puddle of slick and pre collecting under you coaxing him to add to the pile. His heart aches with even more twisted want.

“You’re so good to me—” he practically huffs, annoyance lacing his tone in spite of the otherwise kind compliment. It’s just— Fuck , he can’t focus. So close to the edge due to all your previous teasing, the devious smirk Sam wears when listening to his feminine fucked tone only adding to his frustrations “Best— God , you’re the best friend ever—” he laughs, but it’s all breathless and barely there when suffering the snug fit of your cunt. Like you were made to take his cock; and soon to be Sam’s. Held off just for them, didn’t you pretty girl? With how good you have him feeling, it’s easy for Sebastian to convince himself of such facts. “Just— You’ve jus’ gotta lay there and take it, okay? That’s all— all you’ve gotta do. ” He winces into his words, doing his best to hold off on cumming for just a little longer, burying his bully cock into you just a little deeper. Because despite having the rest of the night to share with you, he’s selfish ; and he doesn’t wanna stop. Not for anything, your cunt is so warm and nice, sucking off his heavy cock so sweetly— the thought of having to stop irks him instantly.

And he doesn’t think you’ll ever quite understand the joy turned lust at taking your virginity like this. How he feels just so special to be treating you like this— knows deep down in the pit of his stomach that Sam will too, especially when enjoying his sloppy seconds he’s about to give you like the nasty man he is. How he can feel your cunt struggle to fit his fat size, fucking your shape into the sheets below, Sam’s hands rough around your throat to really face fuck you now— he must be close. Sebastian can’t blame him, teetering dangerously on the edge himself through sheer willpower alone, he wants to watch you get ruined just as much as he wants to ruin you. Their perfect little princess turned slut, a mess of fluids and dumb brains, he feels lucky to be able to see you like this; even if it’s only because he and Sam have worked together to coax you into the bunny trap they laid out with ill intentions. But can you blame them? Surely not, your cunt doing her best to milk him dry, accepting his full fat length like a good girl . He decides to reward her with lazy pets, inaccurate circles against your clit more as a distraction than anything of substance. A self serving action, playing with you more as a toy than as someone who would like touch; but he doesn’t feel or hear you protesting, quite the opposite really.

Nails clawing on his arms, begging just as much as his cock does when it twitches inside of you. It’s okay, he understands all to well what you’re probably feeling right now; or at least he thinks he does. He can only guess after all. But the way you desperately cling on for dear life, how your legs raise just a little , like you’re trying to get closer to him, or better yet— help him hit that spot inside of you that you must intrinsically understand exists, tells him all he needs to know. You’re close again, and by the looks of things, so is Sam.

It’s your choice at the end of the day. That’s what he’s worked so hard for together with Sam to try and make you feel. If you wanna cum, you will. His thumb drawing sloppy circles against your clit while his cock stutters inside of you, quick snap thrusts to rub his tip across your cervix again. He’s alarmingly close to cumming inside of you already, and he’s got no qualms about finishing before you have the chance. Though embarrassingly, Sam seems to have beat him on that front. A cough of your name, stuck in his friends throat with a final thrust down your own— surely leaving you suffocating from the amount of cum Sam tends to shoot. Which is hot, Sebastian quickly decides. Balls tightening up at the sound of Sam’s loud whines, the sight of the little bit of cock you weren’t able to swallow pulsing against your tongue doing things to him, God . You’re so hot without even trying, even the little sniffles and wheezes you let out when Sam eventually pulls out of your throat are cute, allowing Sebastian full control of your body which he happily takes within his own two hands.

Now that he has you all to himself, he takes proper hold of your hips and fucks you down , matching his every upwards thrust to leave you squeaking like a fucking toy. So hot, so fucking hot, fuck — he feels dizzy . Particularly when you gasp out a quick feels good, Seb! And he’s got no choice but to hammer into you now. Acting the savage with how fast he fucks into you— Sam has to hold your shoulder weight with how hard he thrusts, practically fucking you off the bed to leave the mattress squeaking just as much as you do.

“ You cant—” he takes a big gulp of air, struggling to keep up with his speed. “Can’t just fucking say that , you’re so fucking hot—” red hot embarrassment rises to his cheeks from how pathetic he sounds, all high and soft, like a bitch in heat. Which is humiliating mostly because he’s supposed to be making you sound like that. “Letting me hit it raw? Fuck , so hot, I—”

He’s close. Thumb thrumming away at your clit out of instinct, begging to feel you cream his cock while he fucks you into the mattress below. And thankfully, it only takes a few more rubs for him to get what he wants— you’re such a good friend, aren’t you? Treating him so well, giving him exactly what he wants when he wants it; such a good little fuck for a virgin .

And while he’d love to praise you to the high heavens for cumming around his cock all sweetly like that, mouth hanging open in a silent sob, a quiet whisper of his name quickly following as your insides grip his cock so tight it’s almost too difficult for him to move— you’ve left him dumb . Rendered stupid inside of your no longer virgin cunt in awe at how fucking good it feels to make you cum. Addictive, almost. Because as soon as he starts spilling inside of you, he already wants to do it again. And again, and again, continuing his thrusting despite your sobs for him to stop out of overstimulation— that’s the best bit, don’t you know? To soak your insides white while you cry all cutely for him, the little sniffles you send his way only prompting more cum to shoot, cock fucking it as deep as possible when his hips refuse to let up. And even when you’ve fully milked him and he knows he’s running empty, he just can’t stop. Gently rolling into you despite how he’s quickly softening, only fully stopping when he inevitably slips out and he can watch his seed ooze out of you like some sort of triumph.

When he does take the time to look at something other than your cunt, he catches sight of how messy you are. From head to toe, a blushing beauty mess thanks to their treatment. It’s a good look, y’know. Has his cock already wanting more, silently trembling against himself while he catches his breath enough to compliment you. “Done so well.” He smiles earnestly, and he means it. You should look like that more often.

“Seriously!” Sam beams, back to his ordinary sunshine self after gaining more time to calm down than you and Sebastian. “Dunno about you, and no offence Seb— But, best fuck of my life.”

Sebastian scoffs at his crass words, despite how true they might be. Which is why he feels there’s no need to verbalise no offence taken , because it’s true. You’re such a good fuck that he can’t give you up, not after having a taste himself. And besides, you seemed to enjoy yourself too, didn’t you? The stupid smile you wear as you come down from your first high, the gentle shake in your legs as you paw at Sebastian to gain his attention.

He tilts his head in your direction, away from the sweet smile Sam wears and down to your just as dulcet tone. “Best— Um, sorry.” You giggle, hiccuping into your words in such a cute manner than he almost wants to choke you. Show you again and again exactly what you do to him, and by extension, Sam. So pretty without even trying, it’s annoying. He loves it. “Best kiss ever, I think.” You manage to get out, and Sebastian can only hang his head low in agreement, a twinge of guilt crawling up his throat.

“In that case…” Sam distracts him, moving to the bed and crawling over beside Sebastian, lightly pushing him out of the way. Sebastian would complain if it were worth the while, but he’s got an idea as to what Sam is about to say already, so he automatically assumes the position at your head: just like where Sam was. “Why stop now?”

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv seb smut #sdv sebastian smut #stardew valley seb smut #stardew valley sebastian smut #sdv sam smut #stardew valley sam smut #sebby🐸#sam🛹

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artyandink · 3 months

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amoralism | one

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

A/N - I said I’d post on Friday but surprise! Also, as a note, I have no intention of completely relating to realism (even though I’m pretty sure that’s a title of a chapter). This will be almost like an action/romance movie, and the format is sort of like that too.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Shameless - Camila Cabello

narcissism

Fifty-Shots Bar had never had this many patrons before.

Clinking of glasses, the bellow of random toasts, tapping of the bar for another round, the whole trifecta played on loop until all those glasses came down on the counter and all the beefy men downing those drinks like water would slap the back of the tallest in the lot, forcing that dude with the unreasonably gorgeous hair to bend to their height from the pressure.

“What’s the occasion, boys?” The lady on shift, Jenna, chuckled. She was intrigued as to why the festivities were so… robust, but then one of the guys shoved the tall one forward, clapping his shoulder in a way that knocked the latter’s breath out.

“Ah, nothing.” The taller one tried playing it off, but the shorter wouldn’t hear of it. His green eyes shone mischievously as he ruffled the tall guy’s hair. Jenna’s eyes couldn’t help but trail down the patron’s, well, everything. Short blonde hair, five o’clock shadow on the sharpest jawline she’d ever seen. Lips always in a pout, daring her to kiss it away until they bruised. Casual denim shirt nothing short of tempting, as tight as a damn straitjacket over that broad, no doubt kissable chest. Arms framed in his sleeves, probably bore enough strength to throw her around like a ragdoll and he wouldn’t break a sweat.

She bit her lip. Oh Lord, this man was either from heaven or hell and she wouldn’t complain either way.

“It’s not nothing.” He laughed, shaking his head. “My brother Sam here took down a big-time multi level marketing scheme. So damn modest.” Another clap of Sam’s shoulder. However, he seemed to have clocked Jenna and her obvious admiration of his entire being, a quirk of the corner of his mouth having her knees like jelly. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

She giggled, her finger twirling her hair around her finger as if she was a little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Jenna. What’s yours?”

“Dean Winchester.” He took her hand, kissing her knuckle and letting his lips linger, smouldering eye contact sending shivers down her spine. “Agent Dean Winchester. Say, Jenna, what time do you get off?”

“When you do.” She breathed, and the low chuckle from Dean had her snapping back into her senses but also getting a very noticeable ache between her thighs. “Um, in an hour.”

Sam had already left. He wasn’t in the mood for watching very visible eye-banging.

Champagne. Chauvinists. The classic fancy, downtown party hosted by a family that owned half of Chicago. Flashing lights, a pair of eyes on you at all times… it was rather an overwhelming feeling, one that you couldn’t shake.

You didn’t know whether to feel confident or hunted in the red dress that you wore, satin and navy and with an open back- all things nice and very attractive to men. Your makeup and blonde (for today) hair done like a movie star and getting the attention of every man in the room, regardless of age.

“And who might you be, sweets?” A very Southern accent drawled from behind you, and you turned around, making a show of playing the innocent yet extremely attractive and mysterious lady at the most extravagant birthday party you had ever seen.

You were playing a stereotype. You hated stereotypes.

“Anna Raleigh.” You responded smoothly, and he seemed to buy it, taking your hand and kissing the knuckle, the creepy eye contact urging you to snatch your hand back and scrub it with an antiseptic wipe.

“Miss Raleigh, you are a work of art. Name’s Matthias Aldrich.” He practically purred, and that sent a cold shiver up your spine.

You put on a polite, smitten smile, though you were inwardly rolling your eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

Matthias tucked a strand of your blonde hair behind your ear. “I’ve always been fond of women who are the golden type of blonde. Hope this is natural.”

You took a crouton from a passing tray, popping it in your mouth and chewing on it, answering once you’d swallowed the bite. You’d done it quick because you could see this dude’s eyes on your lips as you chewed. “I say, these croutons are quite dry, no?”

The door to Jenna’s apartment burst open, her and Dean stumbled in, lips locked, door closing with a well-timed click and moans echoing amid breathy sighs. Dean’s jacket fell just as Jenna’s fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to jolt and let out a growl, groaning as he bent to kiss her neck. “Just like that.” He murmured, nipping and assaulting the tanned skin. Only detaching to pull her skimpy tank over her head, revealing a hot pink, lace bra.

She’s freaky. He liked that.

“You like?” She breathed, ample chest heaving as her teeth worried her bottom lip, batting her eyelashes. Putting on a show for him.

“Mmh.” He hummed, nodding before he reached for the clasp, effortlessly undoing it. It fell to the floor, and he clicked his tongue with a grin. “Better.”

“Much.” She purred, kissing him hotly and leading them to the bedroom.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Grinding.

Jenna’s legs wrapping around his waist, courtesy of Dean putting them there. Moans. Groans. Whimpers. Cries and low mutters of each other’s name. The room heating up and pulsing with enough pressure to forge a diamond.

The bed creaking. Headboard banging. High pitched moans that belong in a porno. Groans of ‘just like that’ and whines of ‘right there’ and ‘don’t stop’.

Not even after a minute after your comment about the dry croutons, the building was stormed. Armed personnel burst through every exit, holding up automatics and yelling for everyone to get their hands up, while you were taken by the arm by one of the people yelling ‘FBI! Hands where we can see them!’ and dragged in a way which appeared rough.

You were led kicking and screaming into a side van, and the moment the door slid shut, you snapped out of it, pulling the wig off. “About time, eh, boys?”

“At least we got your signal.” One protested, while another snorted.

“Dry croutons? Really?” He rolled his eyes, spinning on the chair, raising a pointed eyebrow at you. “With all due respect, it could be something less outlandish.”

“Then it would be too easy to miss, Velasquez.” You retorted, grabbing a makeup wipe and beginning to practically scrub it all off. Also taking an antiseptic wipe and a bottle of hand sanitizer to rid your hand of Matthias Aldrich’s lips. “And since when do I work like I’m a basic, sweater wearing, background blending Gertrude?”

“She has a point, Velasquez.” One agent quipped as he went by. You pointed after him with a smirk.

“Willis gets it.” You grinned, shrugging. “Why can’t you? Have a heart, Velasquez.”

“Yeah, have a heart.”

“Shut up!” Velasquez yelled after him, and got the middle finger from Willis in response.

“You ready to report to the CO, Agent?” Willis asked you, passing you a mug of coffee, which you gratefully sipped.

“When am I not?” You chuckled, letting the warm liquid wash over your throat. “Now, I don’t care what you two clowns do, I need these guys behind bars for two lifers at least. I’ve been hunting down these sons of bad mothers for months. I’m not having any slip ups, no buy ins nor outs. Every. Exit. Sealed.” You looked between the two with an intense glare, no nonsense and all business. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Morning afters were always hard for Dean. He had a rule that he followed to the T.

Mind blowing sex? Doesn’t matter, leave before he gets attached and she gets hurt.

“Sorry, Jen, I’d stay, but I’m late for work.” He hurriedly buttoned his denim shirt, trying not to get distracted by the sight of the girl in the sheets, naked body only a thin layer of cotton away.

All he had to do was peel it.

“Aw, handsome, I thought you’d stay for round six.” Jenna giggled, looking him up and down. Inside, Dean was rolling his eyes in frustration. They always got clingy after the best night of their life. Then again, that was purely his fault.

“I would, trust me, darlin’.” He cleared his throat, walking into the living room and finding his jacket and keys, along with his belt. That was important.

Jenna stepped in as well, clad in a silk robe that made her look no short of delectable. But he had to resist. Stick to the damn code. “Y’know, I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”

She was trying a hit. God, she was trying hard. Dean had to physically resist going back for another hit. She was clingy, sure, but there was a huge double standard there.

“Are you, now?” He smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “Careful, sweetheart, or I might sextuple dip.”

“Maybe I want you to.” She winked, and it had him chuckling, looking down and then back at her.

“Tempting. Very tempting.”

You stepped into the office, your heels making small taps on the floor as you went, signing in and showing your ID at the register before making your way inside. You’d been told to take a rest for a few days before you returned to your post in the HQ at DC, but who were you to listen?

And everyone knew it too, because the very moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with a show of applause and cheers from your colleagues. “Tenth drug ring of your career.” Agent Lafitte clapped your shoulder, chuckling. “You’re on a roll, sister.”

“Cool it with the flattery, Benny, I’m on a time crunch.” You snorted, shaking your head and holding a hand out for a case file, which was dropped into your hand as you continued walking.

“Hi.” There was a blonde girl beside you, hair pulled up into a ponytail, presumably the one who handed the fine to you. “Agent Jo Harvelle. I used to work narcotics, but they’re giving me a trial in Major Crimes. I was told by the CO to shadow you, so I can get a good sense of the ropes.”

While looking through the files, you glanced up at Agent Harvelle, seeing the eager look on her face. Rather like you when you started, and the eager ones made good agents. With a little tough love. “Yeah, a’ight. CO’s called me for a briefing, so it’ll be up to him whether you stay or step out.”

“About that drug ring you busted?” She grinned. “I was told. By practically everyone. How are you that skilled?”

“Ain’t my first rodeo, hon.” You smirked as you reached the boss’ office, rapping twice on the door with your knuckles and earning a polite ‘come in’.

That you did, finding your superior officer, Senior Agent Robert Singer, standing behind his desk, nose deep in a file while his ear was being talked off by… oh, boy.

Agent Winchester.

“So I quickly take my gun, aim it between his eyes,” He held up finger guns and aimed them to prove his point, completely disregarding your arrival, hideously typical, “and I said ‘hands up or I’ll reenact Rambo’. Genius, am I right?”

You cleared your throat sharply.

That got Agent Winchester’s attention, his green eyes zeroing in on you and giving you memories back that you tried to dispose of in the first place. A smirk twitched at those lips that were once too close to be professional before they stretched into a grin, pearly whites flashing. “Mornin’, Agent. Surprised to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing.” You pressed your lips together (and your thighs, but you’d never admit that), turning to Agent Singer instead. “Should I leave Harvelle outside, sir?”

“That’s ideal.” Singer nodded, so you signalled to Harvelle to stay outside as you closed and locked the soundproof door. You passed the file on the Brierson drug ring to him, which he checked over. “Impressive work, as always. This’ll land them behind bars for sure.”

“Always the perfectionist, aren’t you?” Winchester quipped, arms folded across his chest with a smug smirk. Your brow twitched; you knew exactly why he was highlighting that word in bold, italics, whatever he was intending to do. You’d just rather not think about it.

You scanned him over, adding all the facts in your head. His shirt wasn’t ironed. Belt was wonky. Hair looked like it had a comb desperately run through it but failed to tame it. Faint hint of something red you recognised as a lipstick smear on his jugular and a sliver of a purple bruise that disappeared under his collar. Which was hastily pulled up. His tie done in the simplest knot ever and still looked tragic.

He got here in quite the rush.

“Nice night?” You shot back, a full smirk tugging at your lips and making his drop. He gave you a look which blatantly said smartass, while you proudly notched that win on your belt.

Singer looked between the two of you before tapping his desk. “Entertaining, but not why you’re both here. We’ve found ourselves in a fix. Franz Brierson wasn’t at that party.”

Your blood ran cold. That guy was the big boss, the guy who started it all, got everyone on his payroll. If he was loose… but he couldn’t be loose. Unless you didn’t check?

“I’ve been looking into it for the past five hours. That’s right, I got here early.” Singer huffed out a breath. “There’s a chance that our big boss was notified beforehand. A mole that told him we were coming.”

“A mole. In the FBI.” Dean muttered, now serious as he rubbed a hand into his mouth. “We’ve been clean for years.”

“It’s the only explanation.” You piped up, shaking your head as you began to pace. Heels tapping, Dean’s eyes fixating on the sway of your hips and your ass in that getup at the wrong goddamn moment. “That operation was airtight. No room for error. Only someone on the inside could have leaked that info.”

“You two are the best Major Crimes has. Most arrests, most drug and crime busts I’ve seen on a record in all my years of being here.” Singer folded his arms, looking between the two of you. “I don’t know the whats, whens, whos, hows, whys of what happened when you two were last assigned on a case together, but I need this operation to stay in this circle right here.” He faced you. “When you’re working this case, Agent Harvelle can’t be there. It’s gonna be hard to shake, but you can handle it. As for you,” Singer shot an exasperated look at Winchester, “look presentable!”

“I look hot.” Dean pouted, now holding his jacket over his shoulder with it hooked on his index.

“Hot isn’t FBI. Go sort yourself out, or I’ll get your brother to do it. I need to oversee operations.” Singer left the room and the tense air between you and Dean, which you faced head on.

“So,” You started in a lilting voice, which he recognised instantly as your teasing tone and prompting an eye roll before the words left your lips, “was she good?”

“Shut up.” He groaned, shaking his head as he pulled his suit jacket back on. “None of your damn business. It’s an intimate exploration, not exhibitionism.” He lowered his voice so you couldn’t hear. “Though she’d probably be into that.”

“Are we calling sex an intimate exploration now?” You scoffed lightly, laughing afterwards. “You’re such a sappy romantic.”

“Asshole.” He shot back. Two can play, Winchester.

“Dumbass.”

“Smartass.”

“Jackass.”

“We gotta stop using ‘ass’ in every sentence.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair and picking up the file to busy himself. But the file was picked out of his hands, left carelessly on the desk, your lips claiming his something sinful.

Something that had him moaning, gripping your hips and his mouth soft, pliable, agreeable to your every want and need. He was all yours, and that was all it took to silence him.

Well, not really silence him, but details weren’t necessary. Not when your plush lips were pressing against his neck like that. Hot, open mouthed. Insistent. Rousing. Dizzying. Intoxicating.

He’d be damned if he ever got enough.

His shirt was soon hanging open, tie discarded as the marks of that sexy lipstick shade littered his torso, and he wasn’t complaining. He definitely wasn’t complaining when you sank to your knees, unbuckling his belt as your tongue traced his abs. Didn’t dare when his slacks pooled to the floor, boxers dropping next, his hand tangling in your hair as-

“Hey.” Your fingers snapped in front of him, taking him out of his delightful daydream, however ill-timed. He swallowed, giving himself a once over. No tie discarded, no shirt undone, no lipstick marks and definitely no you looking so sexy on your knees for him. Having him whine for you.

That was a thought worth biting his lip to.

“You with me?” You continued, and upon his shaky nod, you gave him a weird look before continuing on with your briefing. He inwardly wiped sweat off his brow, thankful to whatever god was watching for the lucky save.

You were sipping a late-night decaf coffee as you contemplated the case again, dressed in your worst-looking pyjamas with an old tea stain on the front and fuzzy socks. Had you scoped the party properly, you could’ve clocked if big man Brierson was actually there. But he’d known, he’d known, and now everyone in Major Crimes was under investigation.

By you.

Well, and Agent Winchester, but you’d rather not think of him. You’re actually not quite sure what happened between you two, all that you broke your own rules for your heart to be broken too. You focused on your job, he had fun. Your cycle went that way.

You’d find a new case, he’d find a new girl. Both to busy yourselves so you wouldn’t have to think about each other, which worked until now.

You got a phone call, and you mindlessly picked it up, irritated as you were pulled from your contemplative thoughts. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

‘Dean, so nice to hear from you.’ You heard, his voice mimicking yours before switching back to his. ‘Wow, Agent, colour me surprised; it’s nice to hear from you too. How are you, Dean? I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart, how are you? You’re so polite.’

“Do I sound like someone to engage in small talk right now?” You deadpanned among chuckles at his own joke, putting your dinner - leftovers - in the microwave. God, you weren’t in the mood for this.

Eventually his snickers subsided, and he cleared his throat as you set the mug down. ‘Duly noted. You’re boring. Anyway, about the mole case. I think we should meet up in the office tomorrow to draw up a list of potential suspects.’

You took your warmed dinner, placing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you stabbed the spaghetti with a fork, chewing as you spoke. “And I think you’re insane. That’s the place we’re casing. Why in the hell would we start drafting up names there?”

You heard Dean clear his throat at the end of the line. ‘Right. Got it. My place?’ Truth is, Dean had been hoping you’d say anything but ‘let’s not draft at the office’. He was scared he’d lift you up on the nearest surface and do what he hadn’t the previous time, mark you, claim you and then let you claim him, mark him, wreck him. He didn’t know what you two were, or what you’d become.

Maybe strangers with very intense, deep seated sexual tension.

“What time?” You asked through yet another bite of spaghetti. You weren’t about to forgo dinner for this dude, cordiality be damned.

‘Tomorrow, straight after hours, just head to my place. Does that work for you?’

“Mm, yeah.” You nodded, setting down your plate to quickly note it in your schedule. “See you then, Agent Winchester.”

‘Call me Dean.’

“Agent Winchester.” It was the least you could do after how things got last time. Again, you’d rather not talk about it.

You walked into the DC office after registering, briefing with Agent Singer before heading to the break room, where you found Trainee Agent Harvelle, Trainee Agent Kevin Tran, Agent Benjamin Lafitte, Agent Garth Fitzgerald and Agent Sam Winchester.

You knew Sam. He was a damn sight more respectful and less… Dean-esque than his older brother. Smarter, yet less effective on brute force raids. For that, you needed Dean Winchester. Anything research, or hacking into databases, Sam was your guy.

“Agents.” You smiled awkwardly, not knowing how else to greet them as you went straight for the coffee pot. Thank the Lord for the petition to make the standard of coffee in that jug better that got the vote from every damn person in the department.

HR and Maintenance can suck it.

“Agent.” The rest of them replied, identically sipping cups of Joe.

“Agents.” Singer walked in, holding a file. “Briefing room. Now.” He walked out, and you all followed suit, taking your coffees with you because you needed the caffeine to sustain your brains. Once you all stepped into the briefing room, where Agent Winchester and Agent Nick Garrison were waiting.

Singer grunted, pulling up a slideshow on the board. “Let’s get this over with.” He showed bodies, robbed banks, hostage situations. “Six occurrences of organised crime over the past four weeks. All hitting major municipalities. Now it’s our jurisdiction.”

“What have we got from the crime scenes?” Agent S. Winchester asked, brow furrowed in thought.

“Nothing but this snake logo, spray painted at every scene.” Up comes a logo of a rearing cobra.

You shrugged, quickly figuring something out. “Well, that solves half of the mystery. They want our attention.”

“It is possible.”

“I think it’s a temper tantrum.” You snorted, pointing to the board. “Look at where they’re hitting. Large cities, maximum damage, it’s a cry out for our beady eyes. Leaving a logo at the scene? Someone either wants to get caught or lead us on.”

“Sounds kinda like girls at a bar.” Agent D. Winchester snickered, but earned a weird look from everyone in the room. “What? I make my own style of analogies, don’t come at me for it.”

“Who’s on the team, sir?” Lafitte asked, the man all slow drawl, suave talk and suspenders.

You pointed to Agent D. Winchester, smirking. “Leave him out, his main interests are girls and booze.”

“Blow me.” He scoffed in retaliation, glaring at you. That was a mistake on Dean’s part, cause he started to imagine it. Oh, that memory’s vivid as hell.

“Beg for it.” You shot back, and despite the steady inflation of awkwardness, he really had half a mind to beg for it, honour be damned to hell.

Pin drop silence. Shared smirks. Uncomfortable eye contact between you and Dean, your minds going to places they really shouldn’t.

Agent Singer cleared his throat, then continued talking. “I want you,” he pointed to you, “and the two Agent Winchesters and Agent Lafitte on it, and the two trainees Agent Tran and Harvelle to shadow. You’re dismissed, except for you two.”

Didn’t take a genius to know who ‘you two’ were.

So everyone but you and Agent D. Winchester filtered out, and the moment the door closed, you were both less bickering, head chopping and heart ripping. More on business.

“This is a good chance for you two to scout for our mole.” Singer looked between the two of you pointedly. “As much unknown history as you two have, you idjits need to set that aside. For the sake of our damn Major Crimes unit. Narcotics will give me hell if I don’t sort this out. And the board of directors will be less pleased that we’ve been compromised.”

“We understand, sir.” You nodded, understanding how goddamn serious this was. Lives were on the line. Your jobs, the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s maintained integrity. “We can put aside our differences, can’t we, daddy’s boy?” You smirked at Dean, then pretended to realise that you’d made a mistake. “Oh, my bad. Agent Winchester.”

Dean resisted a clapback with all his might. He didn’t care if their CO was right there, he’d bend you over this desk and show you who’s really in control here.

That would wipe the smirk off those pretty lips. Replace it with his claim over you.

“So, Dean, I wanna know.” Sam smirked, cracking open a beer and passing it to his older brother. “What’s with you and her?”

Dean scoffed, sipping the beer and shaking his head. “I’m asked this fifty times a day. There’s nothing going on here. We’re work colleagues. She’s incredibly annoying, and grating, and infuriating, and I’m extremely handsome.”

That got a wider smirk from Sam, a knowing one. “You knew who I was talking about.”

That caught Dean out, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Say what?”

“You have so many girls in your life that half of your contacts are women.” Sam raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “But you knew who I was referencing first try.”

“Humour me, Sammy.” Dean grimaced, folding his arms. “How do you label intense sexual tension that was almost acted on yet it almost broke our personal set of rules? Hm? Thought so.”

“So, she’s kind of like an old flame.”

“That flame ain’t lit.”

Sam nodded slowly, giving a breathless chuckle and an inclination of his head. “Yeah. Sure.” He stepped out of the room to head upstairs, which alerted Dean of the implication. He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Hey! Sammy!”

NEXT UP:

“Oh, honey, such a flirt!” You laughed in a posh accent, mimicking your mother’s laugh to the best of your ability while you swatted Dean’s chest. He smirked at the look in your eyes, because goddamn was it obvious that you hated this.

“Darlin’, I can’t help myself around you.” He turned to the other charity goers with a proud smirk, gesturing to all of you. “Can’t keep my hands off my gorgeous wife. Might have to have something off the menu for dessert, if you catch my drift.” He winked at some elderly ladies, who giggled and waved him off.

“Such a charming boy.” One cooed, obviously eyeing Dean up with poorly restrained envy. While you looked around for your target, you missed the way Dean’s eyes travelled down your body in that form-fitting red dress, v-neck, v-back, thigh slit where he knew you had a thigh holster strapped in, all the good stuff. And his eyes were on those scarlet heels.

He was imagining ramming into you with those sexy things on. And that dress, well, it’d be off in second if he had the chance. And that lipstick? Well, it’d be smeared and leaving prints on his neck, chest, abs and- that’s going a bit too unprofessional.

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@deanbrainrotwritings

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

To be added to any character’s taglist of mine, find my form on my master list.

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester x you #spn masterlist #amoralism #fbi!dean winchester x reader #spn au

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notedchampagne · 3 months

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What makes a tlt au work for you? Do u have any favourites out there/that you’ve thought of?

its hard because it can go down to the writing! i have a huge bias for things that put focus on the characters acting awful and driving the story forward- if a story has a plot thats great, but its the difference between "gideon and harrow keep meeting up at parties and fall a little bit in love every time" and "gideons angry she lost her childhood to the cult so she attends a party with the tridentarii to shotgun adolescent experiences, and harrowhark, frustrated that gideon is pulling on her metaphorical leash, follows to stalk her". the former retains a 5+1 fic format and is more bite-size, while the latter puts more focus into their growth as characters. im not great at articulating what i like specifically, but ill put my favorite fics below:

what if nona was dogs tugs at my heart: its post-canon, slice-of-life, and has a unique concept (said in the title). i judged a book by its cover because i thought the premise seemed too silly at first but ive been made a fool and its pet clown. it feels so true to nona the way its about all the things nona loves and how she gets to explore the world through new eyes. i love the way it explores characters softening up and getting hurt through a third person pov

we have always lived in the apartment by @thatneoncrisis i keep saying this but for the love of GOD guys this au is so good it makes me cry and feel such a deep catharsis from it. it takes gideon and harrow and the ninth as a cult and explores their struggle to adapt to a modern society when noone ever gets a break (WOW ITS JUST LIKE IN REAL L-). quinn writes the sides of griddlehark i think go overlooked in fanfic often: their codependency, their tendency to lash out when theyre defensive, their mutual paranoia and different coping mechanisms, harrows psychosis and gideons bitterness, their relationships to each other as being the only other person who really understands what the other suffered through. god. i feel lightheaded.

"but SAM, i dont like angst but i want to see this writing!" read gap between a tragedy and a comedy

"SAM, i also like when gideon and harrow are horrible because theyre maladjusted teenagers! but i want more antics where the characters drive things forward over angst!" read whats eating gideon nav

you just aint receiving is one of my FAVORITE modern aus of all time (and i heavily recommend the authors other fics as well!) if you really want to see how much i love this fic the fact that my comments take up the entire phone screen probably says a lot. its hard to put it concisely: it keeps harrows air of misanthropy and cruelty but redefines it as the result of her upbringing and personal struggle to live in a university while dealing with a backpack of mental illness and frustration. it changes gideons personality as the daughter of john gaius in a way that makes sense having her grow up with johns middling parenting skills and getting everything she ever wanted (connecting it back to kirionas personality in ntn!). it brings in side characters (specially palamedes. my beautiful boy palamedes) in ways that compliment harrow and gideon but not so obviously that they only exist to be supports. they have their own lives and ideals. its a modern au that brings in the boiling politics of johns cult uprising once again in a really novel way

semi charmed kinda life by @griddlebait. jesuchristo and all his middle names this fic is GREAT for you if you want a slice of life, coming of age type modern au that explores what its like for gideon and harrow if they actually got the space to see who theyd become outside of the stifling fate tlt has for them. as far as modern aus go im usually very hesitant to read them because im afraid modernizing the characters takes features away from their core but i really love and respect the way the author treats the 69ers with care and draws distinct lines that shows me how their grow and change while keeping a line to the anchor. also they write HIDEOUS (complimentary) PINING. DISGUSTING. some of these chapters were so chock full of dyke drama that they made me nauseous and whimsical. i think once a friend said this fic felt like if gh could be reincarnated and i like that descriptor a lot

til the cows come home is another postcanon fic that made me feel sick and crybabyish about it- i would definitely recommend it if you want to explore a happier ending with griddlehark! with this and what if nona was dogs the thing i like most about them is that they mix up vulnerability with pain and fear, so it feels more lifelike that way if that makes sense. i lost my taste in fluff fics over time but when its interspersed with struggle and characters causing problems because they cant cope with themselves it feels much more earnest and raw

this became very long. im not sorry

#im very great at answering questions concisely!#the locked tomb #griddlehark #fic rec #talking back

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bartxnhood · 2 years

Text

middle of the night | c.b

colby brock x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

summary: sleep is almost nonexistent to you. a darkness takes over your mind, but colby is the light you need.

warnings: best friends to lovers, nightmare & gore scene, reader and colby being so oblivious to their feelings (JUST KISS ALREADY GOD.)

a/n: hi guys !! i’m not too sure what this is but i’ve been meaning to write for colby for a while so this is definitely something. i was slightly inspired by middle of the night by elley duhé (the song and the fic are not related in any way. the song just heavily reminds me of colby?) also, this one is slightly darker than my previous ones so read with caution. 🤍 enjoy !! feedback is appreciated.

requested open

not proofread

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you didn’t know when the nightmares started, but when they started they never stopped. they kept you up for hours sometimes, other nights you wouldn’t sleep at all.

it was agonizing, you could barely function during the day. you were beyond fatigued and drained. it has been like this for a couple of years now, and maybe you brought it upon yourself as you had messed with some pretty dark stuff when you were younger without the proper knowledge. you always joked to your friends that you were cursed, but as you grew older you started to believe it yourself.

when your close friends decided to take on the mystery of the paranormal you pretty much refused to have anything to do with it. as you were still dealing with the consequences of your younger self. despite your friends begs and pleads you still kept your walls up high. even the thought of going out with them to these locations made you sick.

but, one day kat came to you fully prepared for rejection but she wanted to rest her case.

“y/n, please. i don’t want to be alone” she begged, following you in the hallway of your apartment as you entered your room saying, “you won’t be alone, sam will protect you, and if he doesn’t colby is there for back up” katrina groaned, standing in your doorway. “you know what i mean. i don’t want to be the only girl.” you finally turned around and your eyes met with the girl. she was pleading silently. you ran your hands through your hair letting out a frustrated sigh,” fine. but if i get touched or I'm uncomfortable at all i’m leaving.” katrina grinned, and threw herself into your arms. “thank you so much, y/n.”

so, there you stood filming a video with your three best friends standing inside the conjuring house. you were doomed.

throughout the night, you felt like you were being watched. heavily. but still, you refrained from telling the guys knowing how excited they were to finally experience this. you couldn’t do that, not to colby at least.

ever since it was confirmed that they were going to the infamous house, he was so excited. you loved seeing that light in his eyes glow anytime you’d mention something related to the work he does. he loves what he does.

but, he loves you even more. he wanted nothing more than to make sure you were safe, especially in a place as dark as this home.

when he noticed your unusual behavior, he pulled you over to the side just to make sure you were okay. “are you sure you’re okay?” his hand lingered on your shoulder a bit too long, but you didn’t mind it. “i’m fine, it’s just a lot” you smiled, trying to assure his worries. “okay, well, if it’s gets to be too much let me know. i’m not going to force you to do this.” he was so kind to you. you nodded, “i know, now let’s go back before they start to miss us”

unfortunately, that night was when colby found out about your night terrors.

it was the early hours of the morning when you arrived back at the hotel, you bid goodnight to your friends and went to your room. both sam and cat, colby had rooms next to you so you were all close by.

you opened your eyes, finding yourself in a dark room. no sound, no light, no sense of anything in this room. just a void. you tried searching for anything just to get out. until out of the corner of your eye you see a tall creature lurking, its jaws unhinged comically, its teeth like a leech, beckoning you closer to its open maw, drool lolled out of its mouth, pooling at the floor.

“no..” you breathed, tears brimming your eyes as your breath thickened. “no!” you screamed. “y/n!!” you heard panicked screams calling out your name and your head whipped around seeing your friends. “no!! run!!” you yelled back, but it was far too late.

your friends scream in terror but make no effort to move as the beast grabs them, tearing into them, blood and entrails hit the floor, splattering onto your face. you were breathless, screaming colby’s name.

you jolted up, gasping for breath as your chest began to loosen. you were covered in sweat, tears staining your cheeks. the loud pounding at your door brought you out of your daze. “y/n?! it’s me, i heard screaming are you alright?” it was colby, you threw off the blankets and walked to your door, unlocked it, and then opened it to reveal a very worried colby.

when he first saw you, his gaze softened realizing that you were okay but then he saw you had been crying, your breathing was shallow and sweat pooled on your forehead. “what is it? what happened?” “nightmare” you croaked, he saw how shaken you were so he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

“shh. you’re okay.” his arms wrapped around you, but his touch only made you cry harder. the fresh image of him being ripped apart was still fresh in your mind. “it’s okay, i’m right here” colby gently rubbed your back, feeling your heaves.

his heart was aching, seeing you in so much pain. colby didn’t expect you to tell him what happened in your nightmare, all he was focusing on was being there for you. “will you stay with me, tonight?“ your voice hoarse from the screaming, you pulled away from his chest looking up at him. “just until i fall asleep.” colby nodded, “of course. i’ll be right by your side”

colby stayed up all night, making sure that if you needed him he was there. plus, it gave him the excuse to admire you. every crease in your skin, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you dream. he wanted nothing more than to hold you tightly, and never let anything harm you again. even the nightmares, he would find a way to stop those. even if it killed him. he never felt like this around anyone, only you. it’s always been you.

that was the best sleep you’d had in years, it has been so long since you had felt this refreshed. you were in the best mood, and everyone noticed but you only said you had a good sleep.

when arriving home, your friends dropped you off at your apartment but colby insisted on walking you in. and who are you to deny him?

“thank you again for last night.” you set your bags on your sofa, and he shook his head. “anything you need, i’m your man” you smiled, “still, it was just a lot. so thank you” “of course, y/n” colby hugged you, squeezed you tightly then pulled away. “call me, text me, or just somehow get in touch with me if it happens again. i’ll be here.” “i’m serious” he added

colby was serious, he cared for you deeply probably more than he should but he didn’t care. “i will, i promise” you grinned. there it was. that grin. it always made him feel fuzzy inside. “good” he nodded.

your thumb hovered over colby’s contact, debating with yourself if you should call him or just try to sleep again. after fighting with yourself, you finally pressed call and held the phone to your ear.

“y/n?” he answered, his voice sounding groggy. you must’ve woken him up. “did i wake you up?” “yeah, but it’s okay. what’s up?” you felt bad, you didn’t mean to wake him up. “i’m fine, just forget about it.”

he stopped you, “was it about her nightmare?” you sighed, “yeah.” “do you need me to come over?” he offered. “no, i’m okay really. just scared me.” “i can come over, i don’t mind at all.” “colby..” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “i’ll be there in fifteen.”

then, it became a routine. colby spent most of his time at your apartment, not that he didn’t mind, he enjoyed it. it was an excuse for him to see you twenty-four seven. but with his presence, somehow the terrors stopped. when colby was around you felt relaxed, you could rest. you’d lay on the sofa while he sat and watched your tv, or you were in bed and he was right next to you.

at night, when you couldn’t sleep colby, was still by your side. if he was working on editing videos you’d sit up with him and have a movie on in the background. or, if the both of you had nothing to do, you would just talk. talk until the early hours of the morning about anything. from childhood memories to what you two wanted to do in your future.

but one night, colby finally asked why you never wanted to do the investigations with him.

“i just know how bad they can get” you shrugged. he nodded, “i agree, but we always take our precautions. you know i wouldn’t let anything happen to you, y/n” there they were again. those damn butterflies. you nodded, “i know, colbs” you took a deep breath, sitting up. you figured it was better now than never to tell him.

“when i was younger, i went out with some friends to this haunted place. it was dark. like, very dark. and after that…the nightmares started.” you picked at your nails. “it’s the same one, every time. you, sam, and kat. this…thing is there. it’s tall, black and it’s just inhuman. it tries to attack me. but you guys are yelling, telling me to run, and then it..” you pause, you felt heat rush to your cheeks and your eyes started to tear up. “it rips you to pieces..right in front of me..” your voice was breaking as you explained.

he pulled you into his arms as you teared up. “it’s okay. i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere.” he rubbed your back “i promise. you’re safe, i’m safe. i’ll be here, any time, any day, i will come to you”

colby became the one person you relied on, he became your rock.

then he disappeared. vanished. he should’ve said no to her, you needed him. he was supposed to be there, he saw your messages but he was too drunk to help you.

colby regretted that night, he saw your desperation but he couldn’t be there. she wouldn’t let him. he didn’t even know why he continued to see the girl, maybe he thought it was the only way he could ever get over you. but when you stopped texting he thought you were okay now. maybe you didn’t need him after all.

but he was wrong.

your night terrors we’re getting worse, some nights you didn’t sleep at all. you tried all kinds of medication to see if it would relieve your pain. but it didn’t. one night, the dream was bad. worse than it had ever been.

you tried messaging colby, calling him a few times but he wasn’t answering. maybe he was sleeping. whatever it was you’d be okay, you knew you needed to stop being dependent on him. you were a big girl, you had to learn how to deal with your issues.

“hey, kat..” you breathed, picking at your lips. “i know it’s kinda late, but have you heard from colby?” you decided to call up katrina in hopes she could ease your anxiety. “yeah, he said he was going out tonight. a date or something.” “oh..” you hummed, “is everything okay? you sound awful.” she stated. “yeah, i’m good. just needed to tell him something. thanks, kat. i’ll see you soon” you hung up the phone, tossing it on the bed.

why did your heart hurt so much? why did you want to cry your eyes out so badly? you never realized your feeling for colby.

oh god. you loved him. you were in love with colby brock.

no, you couldn’t possibly be in love with him. that’s stupid, you guys were just friends..right? friends took care of each other…friends shared a bed occasionally..right?

you didn’t know how to deal with your feelings, you couldn’t tell him now as he was actively seeing someone or dating. you slowly began to disappear from the picture. maybe if you weren’t around him so much those feelings would slowly fade.

you were wrong.

colby on the other hand was missing you. the date didn’t work out. he wasn’t sure why he even tried dating when he was head over heels for you. maybe he did it not knowing how you felt about him, but now he’s never going to know. you had disappeared, ignoring everyone’s texts and calls. it was very concerning, especially for colby knowing how your night terrors affect your daily life.

everyone started to notice your absence, and it was only a matter of time before sam and katrina persuaded him to finally check in on you.

“you’re the closest to her, colby. it would only make sense if you go” sam argued looking at the brunette boy standing above him. “listen to him, colby” katrina agreed. “guys-“ the girl cut him off. “no, colby. it’s bad. she called me one night when you were out, she sounded like she had been crying. her voice was hoarse. whatever is happening, it’s bad”

that was the push he needed. colby had to see you.

you haven’t slept in a very long time the nightmares have been worse than ever and it has been going on for an unhealthily long time. you look absolutely run down and it’s getting hard to function. some nights you just refused to sleep, it was better to stay awake than to meet the monster occupying your brain. you were sure you had memorized every crack and crevice in your ceiling. you lay lifeless on the sofa, the silence was deafening. you were miserable.

you weren’t sure how long someone was pounding at your door, but you had finally come to your sense and had to answer it. you rose slowly from your position already feeling a migraine forming.

you weren’t expecting to see colby, he was the last person who you thought would show up. “colby..” you uttered.

colby didn’t know what to expect when you opened the door. but, when he saw you he felt sick. your hair was tied up but messy, and your eyes were black and whites bloodshot.

“oh my god y/n…” he croaked, entering your apartment. you sighed, you couldn’t face him. you didn’t want him to see you like this. at your worst. “how much sleep have you been getting?” you shrug, hugging yourself. “an hour” he blinks “a night?” “…this week” the color washed from his face, and he felt dizzy.

he wanted to cry, hold you tightly and apologize for all the pain you’re going through. “why y/n? why are you doing this?” he reached for your shoulder. you reply, “the nightmares are too much. i can’t keep going thru that” he shakes his head, studying you. “why didn’t you tell me?” “i tried, but kat told me you were out on a date and i didn’t want to both you because this is my problem. i need to learn how to go deal with it on my own”

“ y/n l/n, i told you to come to me whenever you were struggling. i care about you.” you finally faced him, you didn’t know what else to say. colby continued, “out of everyone in my life i’ll always care about you most” you feel yourself beginning to tear up, the lady of sleep was taking a toll on your body.

colby gently pulls you into a hug. “i’m so tired. i just want to sleep without being scared” you cry into his chest. he soothes your cries. “you need to sleep, y/n.” you shake your head against his chest, “i cant.” “ill be with you, kay? like old times” he offered, you were reluctant but he lead you to your bedroom and got your bed ready. which hadn’t been slept in for a long while.

your head rested against colby’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. he whispers “i’m sorry. i should’ve been here” “not your fault” you hummed, closing your heavy eyes. he rubbed you back gently, you didn’t know if you were just extremely tired or if your feelings for colby were resurfacing again. “i love you, colby” you paused, “i’m in love with you colby brock.”

colby wasn’t able to get a word in, because when he tried to he noticed how your breathing evened out and you were already fast asleep. his heart was now racing, you loved him? you were in love with him? he smiled to himself, kissing the top of your head. “i love you too, y/n.”

#colby brock x y/n #colby x reader #colby brock imagine #colby brock x you #colby brock #colby brock fic #colby brock fluff #colby brock angst #colby brock x reader #colby brock fanfic

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rustingcat · 1 year

Text

The moment Kara heard Sam was coming to town she knew there would be trouble.

Not that she had anything against the woman, quite the opposite, she absolutely adored Sam. But her visits tend to be a bit… chaotic.

It started not long after Ruby turned old enough to babysit Esme by herself. Sam would fly to National city for a weekend, leaving Ruby at the Danvers-Olsen house for a paid sleepover with Esme, and dragged the superfriends to the nearest Bar to get them all shitfaced drunk.

Kara would not easily forget waking up on the roof of a ferris wheel once, wearing a clown outfit and hugging a pogo stick. She did forget the events leading up to that point due to the large amount of alcohol she consumed the night before.

Kara briefly toyed with the idea to visit her parents on Argo for the duration of Sam's visit, or at the very least her first night. But she hasn't seen her in so long, and with Kara's very busy schedule she decided it's a good opportunity as any to take some time off and enjoy a night out with her friends. She just hoped there would be no stumbling drunkenly into any more theme parks.

That's why she was very surprised to learn that Sam's new adventurous plan was a simple game night at Kara’s apartment.

With alcohol, of course.

Kara kept her drinking at a minimum, just enough to get some nice buzz out of it, but a far cry from a complete black out. She wasn't the only one, most participants had seemingly decided to avoid a similar fate. Much to Sam's disappointment, Kara assumed, since she kept asking them to do shots.

After a few tame games of Settlers of Catan and a round of pictionary, Sam decided to spice things up a bit. They started with a game of 'would you rather' that slowly evolved into an open question format where everyone answered the same questions.

"Favourite… type of apple?" It was Nia's turn to ask, she spent almost 5 minutes struggling to find a question before settling on one.

"Really? That's the best you got?" Sam asked disappointed.

"I was panicking! That's the only thing I could think of!" Nia said defensively, her arms raising in the air in surrender. "Do you have anything better?"

"You know it," Sam said with a sly smile.

"Go ahead then."

"Alright," Sam clapped her hands, moving her gaze from one person to the next slowly before she continued. "Not including your actual partner, who would you marry out of the people in this room?"

"And I can't choose Nia?" Brainy asked, his hands deep in Nia's hair, drunkenly caressing her hair between his fingers. He may have gotten slightly drunker than most by trying to be nice and accepting most of Sam's shots.

"That would be against the rules." Sam smiled and twisted the wine glass in her hand.

"That's preposterous!" He exclaimed. Nia's head recoiled with a small groan of pain as Brainy accidentally hit her head. "There is no possibility in the multiverse I would pick anyone but her!" He announced, Nia remembered to move her head in time to avoid the second hit.

"You're no fun," Sam rolled her eyes. "Nia?" She smirked.

"Only Brainy, of course." She proclaimed loudly. Brainy rewarded her with a kiss on the forehead while she mouthed 'Kelly' under her breath.

Sam winked to her in return, while the rest tried to hide their chuckle.

"Kelly, you're next for no particular reason," Sam turned to her with a smile.

"Nia," Kelly replied with a matching smile. "For no particular reason."

"Alex?" Sam changed the topic before Brainy could interject.

"You know, I think we could've worked out," she weaved her hand towards Sam's direction.

"Yeah, we could've had some fun," Sam smirked back at her. "Alright, Kara, what about you?" She turned to face her.

"Lena," Kara answered without much thinking.

"Well, she is rich, it makes sense," Sam said under the rim of her glass.

"Rich wife is very convenient," Alex nodded in agreement.

"I'm not choosing her because of her money." The idea of reducing Lena to her finance, a walking wallet if you will, infuriated her. She was so much more than that. Kara put down her empty glass and stood up a bit faster than she intended.

"Then why her?" Sam challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Kara blinked in surprise, was it not obvious? "Because she is amazing! She's brilliant, smart, kind and… pretty," she added with a small blush creeping up her neck. "Also a great listener and problem solver, which is important in a relationship. And-"

"Yeah okay, we got it," Alex cut her off.

Kara gave her a mocking look in response, eyebrows squinted and tongue sticking out as she walked up to the kitchen to refill her glass.

"Lena, who is your pick?" Sam continued with the game.

"Kara, of course." The way she said it, as if there were no other options, filled Kara with warmth she was not expecting. She also wasn't sure why it made her smile so much, but it did. Then again they were best friends, it would be awkward if they were not to pick each other, right?

"Hey Kara, can you get me a beer?" Alex called out.

Kara studied her for a second. "No, you were being annoying."

"Wha- Kara!" Alex whined.

"Get one yourself," Kara shrugged, and poured herself a glass of white wine.

"Kara, can you give me a glass of red, please?" Lena asked. Her voice was so soft, it sent shivers down her spine.

"Of course," Kara quickly pulled another wine glass from the upper cupboard and placed it on her kitchen island.

"Hey, I asked you first," Alex shouted in retaliation, as she finished filling the second glass. "So you're getting Lena's drink and not mine?"

"Yes," Kara answered with a smile, walking back to the living room while maintaining eye contact with her sister, knowing it would annoy her more.

"Why?" Alex challenged, squinting her eyes while maintaining the eye contact.

"Wife privileges," Kara shrugged and took her place next to Lena, shifting a bit closer to her this time before she placed her glass on the table.

Kara almost forgot about the whole thing, until a week later when Lena brought it up. They were sitting in Lena's new office, talking about her new conjoined plan for both her foundation and the newly reformed L-Corp for a new source of green energy. A top secret plan, but Lena was talking about it with so much enthusiasm that Kara couldn't help herself, asking more and more questions, eager to learn more about it. Soon after, Kara found herself in the halls of the foundation's labs, Lena excitedly telling her about the project in detail.

"This sounds amazing, Lena! But I thought this was top secret, not that I'm complaining. I love seeing you this enthusiastic, but how come I get to hear about it?" Kara asked eventually.

Lena was quiet for a moment, before she answered "wife privileges," with a shrug, her cheeks slightly pink.

Kara brought it up next, when she forced Lena to leave the office at a reasonable time. Claiming 'wife privileges' as the reason Lena has to follow her home and relax for a bit.

Lena later used it as an excuse to steal a fry off of Kara’s plate, even though she insisted she only wanted a salad. When she met Kara raised brow she simply shrugged and claimed “wife privileges.”

It quickly became an inside joke for them, a reason for them to do a nice thing for each other or an excuse to get away with stuff; like buying lunch, stealing clothes or bringing surprise pastries. Things they were already doing anyway, they just had a better excuse to do it more often.

"Hey, it's been a month since that game night," Kara said, raising her very fancy wine glass to her lips. Lena invited her to a fancy Italian place that opened recently. It was right after Kara mentioned a craving for pasta the day before.

"Are you suggesting it's our anniversary?" Lena smirked, leaning back on her chair. She didn't need to be specific, she knew Lena knew what she was talking about.

"Happy anniversary." Kara raised her wine glass and smiled. She loved how quick Lena could understand her.

"Happy anniversary." Lena raised her own glass to toss it with hers, smiling her wide smile with the dimples that made Kara all warm inside. She was so captivated by the smile that it took Kara a few moments to realise the waiter was standing right beside them.

The meal was, of course, amazing, not only because of the quality Italian cuisine, but her fantastic company. Kara always felt most like herself when she was with Lena, she wasn't sure why but she made her feel at peace.

They finished their meal, still deep in conversation, sipping the remaining of their wine when the waiter appeared. Presenting them with a complementary tiramisu with a candle and two spoons, wishing them a happy anniversary.

Kara was about to correct him when Lena thanked him with a nod and gestured for Kara to dig in. She couldn't help the goofy smile that spread on her face. Out of all the inside jokes so far, she had the feeling that that was their best one yet.

Read the rest in AO3

#so excited to publish this little fic #been sitting on that one for a while #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fic #my art #my fic

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unplugfromthesource · 4 months

Text

Viva Las Vegas

🎲About: When invited to see your childhood best friends perform at the International Hotel and Casino, things take a turn of events and reveal suppressed feelings for your once lover and now enemy.

♦️Jake Kiszka x reader

♠️Word count: 6k

♣️Warnings: mentions of sex, drinking, angst, crying, cheating, ldk what else 🙌🏻

🃏Authors note: enjoy this is my first story so I hope it’s good and if the format is messed up sorryyy😛

⭐️⭐️⭐️

If you were to be told that your childhood best friends were performing at the International Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, you would die laughing. Growing up in the small town of Frankenmuth Michigan, you were always told you needed to live a big life and make the town proud, and that is exactly what you did. After finishing high school, you dropped the idea of college and found yourself working at the well-known store of Bronners, making a little less than minimum wage, but it worked. You saved up for 2 years straight, just to be able to rent out a small studio apartment in Nashville Tennessee, the music city. You landed yourself a job at a small bar that frequently hosted small and upcoming bands, one of them being the Orange Blossoms: the band you now market for full-time while working for RCA Record Labels. Life was good, really good; well until you got a very interesting call two weeks back from a very drunk childhood best friend, Josh Kiszka.

“Hello?” You asked rubbing your eyes. It had to be at least 3 am and you were woken out of a dead sleep to answer a call you should’ve just let go to voicemail.

“Y/N MY FAVORITE PERSON,” you could practically smell the alcohol reeking off the man you called your other half through the phone “HOW ARE YOU!”

“Josh,” you pulled the phone away from your ear and to no surprise the time read

3:05 am “It’s 3 am I was asleep just like you should be. Is there something you need?”

“Mama, do I ever need a reason to call the girl I love the most?” He asked almost slurring every other word

“No Josh but it’s a Thursday and I have work soon and need to sleep. Goodnight Joshua”.

“NO, NO WAIT. I had something to tell you but it slipped my mind.. Jake, what was I going to tell y/n again?” That name. The name of the man who had destroyed you. Josh’s twin brother, Jacob. Thomas. Kiszka. Silence hit the air and you could hear the long-haired man laugh and mumble something to his brother.

Jake and you had dated back in high school. It wasn’t a quick thing, it was a three-year-long commitment. Jake was your first and you his. He was there for the first time you got black-out drunk, greened out, ran away from home, lost your childhood pet, everything. Jake was not only your boyfriend but your best friend and you were beyond happy, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Well, all that joy and happiness, left in the blink of an eye on the night of your senior prom. It took no time at all for you to see the photo. There, in his jet black tuxedo and pink tye to match your flowing dress was an 18-year-old Jake pushed up against the wall with some dumb blonde. The dumb blonde in question? your best friend. Life had changed completely. All the sorries in the world couldnt make up for what he had done to you. You could care less about the skanky bitch you called your best friend but Jake? Your Jake? You have never felt more alone in your entire life. You broke contact with him for 6 years. Six years of your life you spent tip-toeing around him. You would exchange glances at parties Josh or Sam would host but not a single word would leave your lips. Josh had tried his best to break up the tension but you were stubborn, you always have been and that was partially the reason Jake had stopped trying so hard to apologize to you, because he knew you wouldn’t forgive and forget.

You broke the no contact on the twin's 24th birthday. You were invited to the party and you didn’t think twice about going, not for Jake but for Josh. Only for Josh. However, to lie and say Jake had looked nothing far from gorgeous would be wrong. He looked.. perfect. You found yourself drinking one too many martinis made by the fluffy-haired twin and ended up letting the alcohol take its course and finally speaking to the man who broke your heart. As you moved your body through the sea of people invited to the house located just out of Nashville, you found your glossy eyes looking upon a somber Jake.

“Hi.” you said quietly as you took a seat next to him outside by the small fire that had been growing rather dim as the night went on.

“Hi, Angel.” He said as his eyes met yours, using the same nickname he gave you all those years back in high school.

“ I uh, I just wanted to say Happy Birthday and wish you a year full of good memories or whatever you have in your life you want to be good.” God your mouth had never felt so dry as you were at such a loss for words. Why you were even speaking to him was beyond you.

“Thank you. How have you been? It's been what? Five-ish years?”

“Ive been good, I could be better but work is good and I got a dog of my own, yea lifes been, been going good.” Been going good and we should keep it that way, you thought to yourself.

“I'm glad. Ive missed you, Angel. Ive missed what we had.” His hand found its way to yours. Just as soon as it happened it was over as a girl was soon calling his name. A girl whose voice you’ve heard more than once before. As you turned your head, to no surprise you were met with the girl he cheated on you with all that while back. You sobered right up and stood quickly.

“It shows Jake. Happy birthday again.” and with that, you continued with your life, not speaking to the ghost of the man you once knew.

As you came back from your thoughts you were brought back to a drunk Josh rambling on about god knows what.

“So what do you say?” Jesus you must have been zoned out, I mean it was 3 am and this call was more than unnecessary in your eyes.

“Sorry, repeat what you just said, but make it short.”

“ I SAID, we're going on another leg for the US and were going to this fancy place in Vegas where Elvis played and I want you to come.” You had already seen the infamous Greta Van Fleet perform far more than once but a trip to Vegas didn’t sound too terrible.

“The International Casino?” you asked confusingly

“Yeah, that's the one! It's in a few weeks Angel so you have time to think but it would mean the world to all of us if you would delight us with your amazing presence.” You let out a small laugh, ignoring the fact that the nickname has made its way to stick with you for so long.

“Send me over the details in the morning Josh and I’ll look into it. Im going to bed now and I think you should too, love you lots Josh.” The short man let out a sigh wished you a good night and hung up.

Now, you sit in your hotel room, a suite not to mention, putting on the lash finishing details to your makeup, similar to that of which Josh does, and preparing for the night ahead. As you added the last rhinestone to your cheek, you moved to grab your favorite red lipstick, carefully applying it only to be interrupted by a phone call from no other than the man himself.

“Hello, mamas.”

“Hi Josh, to what do I owe the pleasure”

“I’m sending someone up to your room right now to grab you and bring you to the dressing rooms, then we're gonna bring you to your spot. Sound good?” You laughed knowing that by going on this trip Josh was going to do whatever he needed to make sure that you had lived it to the best extent, even if that meant reserving a special spot in the pit when you were more than happy to be in a seat, out of the way.

“Yes that’s fine Josh,” you said with a laugh “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you continued applying your lipstick, sprayed your favorite perfume, and were met with a soft knock at the door to your luxurious suite. You opened the door to see one of the many men you'd seen running around with the band before and allowed him to escort you to a room that was titled “Greta Van Fleet-Josh Dressing” and let you inside.

You were immediately met with showers of welcomes, seeing that not only Josh sat in this room but Sam and Danny too, Jake nowhere to be found.

“Angel! We’ve missed you come in!” exclaimed Josh and he sat up from his spot in a chair and left the woman doing his makeup dumbfounded at the sudden change in focus. As he came up to hug you it felt as if any worry you had about the night had left you completely. His hug was soon followed by Sam and Danny which led you all into a deep conversation of how life had been. Well, as deep as it could go seeing as they had to perform in just short of 30 minutes. As Sam rambled on about Rose and his love life your mind drifted to the fact that the other, more serious, twin wasn’t present. It must have shown on your face for Sam cleared his throat and said

“Jake in his dressing room, “practicing” is what he calls it but im pretty sure he's in there taking shots to pregame.” You let out a soft “ah” to show your understanding. It didn’t come as a surprise to you that Jacob Kiszka was pregaming, you felt like you always saw him drinking before a show, even when he was back in Frankenmuth whether it be a beer or a shot of vodka. Soon you found yourself taking a shot with the boys as if to say good luck on the stage tonight, knowing they wouldn’t need that; I mean they were amazing, to say the least. You saw the effect these men had on some of the people in the crowd, not just from their undeniable beauty but from the fact that their music meant something, it changed people and you couldn’t be more proud of them. While you never imagined them this big, you felt like they had this written in the stars for them. After exchanging conversation they got the five-minute call and the next thing you knew you were being brought out of the room and down to the pit. As you walked down the small hallway leading you to the stage, you heard the voice of a man talking to another, but not just talking, he was mad, really mad. The security guard tried to hurry you along past the scene but as you passed him, you could see that black suit, shining in the light due to the amazing detailing from the rhinestones and diamonds, and you knew that was Jake. Your Jake. Why he was mad? You wish you knew. Maybe something happened with his guitar, or maybe he had just gotten bad news from someone, but whatever it was, you weren’t even allowed a moment to process it before you were pushed along to your “special spot”. You found yourself being lifted over the railing of the pit and put smack dab in the middle of the barricade. You almost felt bad, this could’ve been someone else’s spot so before he could walk away, you grabbed the arm of the security guard and pulled him close to the railing.

“Is there anywhere else I can sit? Maybe up there?” you yelled out as you pointed to the seats sitting at an angle to the side of the stage.

The guard just looked at you and sighed, “They told me they wanted you here specifically, so they could see you. Don’t worry we had someone hold this spot for you. Enjoy the show Ms.Y/L/N.” And with that, he was gone and the lights started to dim, followed by a beautiful violin cover of the songs off Starcatcher.

The curtain fell and the boys made their way down from their spots, going on with the show as normal, until it came to the point of what would normally be their switch to the second stage, except this venue, in particular, did not have one, so they stayed put and gathered around into a half circle, facing the crowd in front of them. Sam had started to play a melody on his keys you knew all too well and once Josh started singing, tears filled your eyes. It was always a joke growing up about how much you and Mrs.Kiszka adored John Denver, Jake, and Josh egging it onto you how much you were like their mom. You had always seen on social media postings of them playing bits from The Music Is You, to honor their mom when playing back in your home state, but it never once crossed your mind that they may do the same for you. Josh had sang beautifully as always and made it a point to look right at you and reach his hand out to you when he finished the little snippet of the song you adored oh so much. You wiped your eyes and mouthed a quick thank you to Josh. While it may have seemed silly to the girls around you, you hadn’t seen the boys in truly so long, and just to hear them sing, knowing it was for you, made you appreciate how much they have changed you and your life, good or bad.

As the concert continued you found yourself in a sea of screaming girls once the familiar tune of The Archer, began playing. Josh had told you over the phone about the many interactions he had with fans, going down to the pit, hugging, kissing, grabbing them, and showing his love during Jake's extended solo and you expected nothing different for tonight. Just as you expected, Josh made his way down to the pit, hugging as many as he could but your attention drifted elsewhere. Your eyes found taking in the image of the man you once called your true love as he shook back and forth with his guitar, dramatizing the solo more than it needed to be. You found yourself taking in his features; his long, wet hair, the way it stuck to his face due to the sweat running down his body to his torso, the way his hips shook back and forth as he damn near abused his guitar on the stage. You couldn’t draw your eyes away but were broken out of your trance as soon his met yours. The tension you felt was unreal and hard to differentiate between sexual or pure rage for what had happened all that time back. It wasn’t just the cheating that had you mad though and you knew that. Jake was a slut, a genuine slut. You felt like he was sleeping around with a new girl after every show and he made no point of hiding it as photos circulated on the internet of him leaving venues with different girls every other week. You watched as he would watch himself play, in awe with his state of himself, what a self-centered asshole you thought. Soon, you brought your eyes away from his but couldn’t help but feel them staring down at you throughout the remainder of the show, almost as if he tried his best not to look before but now couldn’t control it. As Josh reached the last note of the last song, they bid their farewells and wished their love to all in the crowd and soon exited the stage.

As the pit fully cleared out, you made your way from the front of the pit despite the security trying to escort you to the boys backstage, you broke out of their hold telling them you needed to go to the restroom and would find your way back there on your own. You felt like you were being babied and honestly needed a drink or two after whatever the hell that show was. You moved through the sea of people and found yourself standing at a bar waving down a bartender, ordering your usual Jack and Coke. As the cold drink met your lips, you could feel yourself loosen up in an instant. Three drinks later you found yourself too far from tipsy but not yet fully drunk, you would give yourself a drink more before you were completely dazed out. You closed out your tab and picked up your phone, being met with text after text from Josh asking where you went. You called him and asked where he was, telling you he was at some restaurant located in the hotel and would send Sam to come and get you. As you sat impatiently, you decided it wouldn’t hurt to get another drink; the boys were probably near drunk by now as well who cares you thought as you ordered another drink, asking for it to be stronger than the last one, asking for this drink just to be put on the room, to which Josh was paying for. As you finished the last drops of your drink it was only a matter of time before the alcohol worked its course and you felt ready to dance and let loose.

Soon, Sam's body found yours as you laughed to him about just how good the show truly was, showering him with compliments on the band's skill. He only laughed alongside you, letting the alcohol drift from his breath to your face, letting you know it indeed was ok to order that last drink. As he guided you back to the restaurant, you were met with surprise seeing as the restaurant was not only a restaurant but a dance club. The seats consisted of a few big, dimly lit booths, and many high tops and scattered lounge chairs. Sam led you to one of the booths and you slid your body right in, to Josh, except the booth was now only being filled by you and Josh, the other three boys out dancing or getting drinks by the bar. You leaned into Josh and shouted as loud as you could over the music.

“The show was amazing Josh,” you said partially slurring your words “thank you for playing my song for me; ‘meant a lot y’know.” You smiled at him, eyes glossy.

“Anything for my favorite girl.” He said, pulling you into his arms and hugging you tightly.

You found yourself being pulled in all sorts of directions as Josh danced the night away with you until your phone read about 2 am. You pulled Josh to the side and told him it was time for you to make your way back to your room and sadness filled his eyes.

“I don’t want the night to end either Josh but I’m tired and drunk and need to sleep.” you laughed lightly.

“Yeah, I know mama. When is your flight back to Nash? Maybe we can spend the day on the strip tomorrow before we gotta go?” You looked at the man like he had six eyes. You were in no state to think of such difficult things, or at least that's how they seemed to you. You lazily gave him an estimate knowing it was some time in the afternoon, but it was late enough for you to spend time with him and the rest of the boys. As you wished him goodnight you stumbled out of the restaurant-themed club and made your way toward the elevators.

As you pressed the elevator buttons and entered in, you pressed the button leading you to the twelfth floor where your room resided. Just as the doors were about to close, a hand wedged itself in between the two doors, opening them back up and bringing you to face a, at least you would think, equally as drunk Jake. You didn’t want to talk to him let alone look at him but god did he look good. As he walked in he let out a small sigh, almost disappointed on who was in the small box with him. Before you could even open your mouth to ask him what floor he was headed to, he leaned in front of you, almost far too close for comfort, and pressed the number directly above the one you lit up and returned to his place on the opposite side, not exchanging a single word. You were praying the floor would stop somewhere else and someone would get into the elevator with the two of you, breaking the awkward silence but no one did. As the elevator made its way up you cleared your throat and as soberly as possible said

“You guys put on quite the show tonight.” You couldn’t tell if it came off as rude or a compliment.

“Glad you enjoyed it, Angel.” He said, his eyes lifting from the floor to look at you, take in your outfit, tailored specifically for this evening. You were dressed in a shorter-than-short silver skirt to show off your height as Jake himself always joked how you should be flaunting your “long legs” whatever the fuck that meant, followed by a black corset that had detailing that was similar to that of what was embroidered on the twins suits. Your skin was covered in glitter, from your chest to your arms and you supported a few dainty necklaces gifted from the boys themselves as well as a bracelet you bought for yourself just for this event. You put on your cleanest pair of go-go boots and do your makeup to resemble Josh, followed by a red lip and your hair in loose curls. How it all stayed on to this moment was a surprise to even you but it did, and maybe this time it genuinely was the alcohol, but you felt hot, really hot. Jake had managed to find time to change so he sported a simple linen set you've seen him wear one too many times before, leaving all but the last two buttons undone to show off his toned chest against the silver of his plethora of silver coins.

“It's not polite to stare.” you stated flatly at the man before you, toying with the bracelet on your wrist to keep you occupied. God this elevator was taking forever.

“You seemed to have no issue earlier towards the end of the show.” He let out slightly with a smug smile almost as if to insinuate something more than what was there.

“I’m sorry? Am I supposed to stare at the floor during a concert?” You snapped back only to be met with a smile forming wider on his lips.

“Like I said, glad you enjoyed Angel.” He said, cooly.

Finally, the elevator reached your floor and you couldn’t help but sit for a minute, debating everything that’s happened between you and Jake, realizing that even after all the years, you find yourself feeling the same way you did for him all that time back. You looked up at the man in front of you in confusion about the way you felt, wondering if he felt the same.

“Goodnight Jake.” you said softly before exiting the small box and beginning the walk down the hallway. As you approached your room you felt like your legs were ready to give out. You pulled your room key out and entered the room, sleep taking over your body. As you walked in you immediately made your way to the bed, needing a minute to regain some energy before getting up again and taking off your ensemble. After a minute, you sat up, taking off your boots, followed by your corset and skirt, taking off your socks and undergarments, and moving to get a a baggy t-shirt and different underwear. Once changed, you made your way toward the bathroom to begin removing your pounds of jewelry. The weight being taken off your neck led you to focus on taking off your bracelet however to your surprise, it wasn’t there. Fuck you thought to yourself. If it was anywhere, it was back in that elevator where you stood fidgeting with it while talking to Jake. You would’ve just let it go had it not been as expensive as it was. You were at a loss of thought. Do you call Jake and ask if he saw it in the elevator? No Jesus no. You tried to collect your thoughts in your drunken state and decided to just go back onto the elevator and look for it there. It was almost 3 am so you would think no one would be out in the hall so you slipped on some ankle socks and crept out of the comforts of your room, making your way to the elevator. Just as you went to press the button to go back down, the doors opened, and before you stood the same man you had just seen minutes before, holding your bracelet. He scanned over your body before stepping out of the elevator, taking in your “pajamas” and smirking slightly.

“You look comfortable.”

“Just give me my bracelet Jake. I’m tired and I want to go to bed.” You snapped at him, almost too loudly.

“Yeesh someone's angry.” He said with a chuckle, reaching his hand out to you.

You snatched it out of his and turned making your way back to the room, not giving him a second longer of your time.

Once you got to the door, the harsh reality hit you. You missed him. He looked so good on that damn stage tonight, it made you realize that you did miss him. You missed the nights when you would spend laughing your asses off at the stupidest tv shows, or the way you would make fun of each other for the way they looked when they woke up in the morning. What you missed most of all? The feeling of his body against yours. The way he made you feel complete. You felt tears build up in your eyes. You had loved him, even from the day he cheated on you, you have always loved him. You never loved another. You missed your Jake. As you entered the room, tears streamed from your eyes, not just out of sadness but anger. Angry that even after he did do this, you still wanted to crawl back into his arms, and be told it was all going to be ok. You moved to grab your phone and opened up your messages. You knew you shouldn’t have but you opened a new conversation and sat, staring at what you would even say. Before you could even type the first letter, a knock at your door filled the silence.

You opened up the door to be met with the eyes of the same boy you had never stopped loving. You locked eyes before the sudden movement of him brought his lips toward yours. It was like he had been thinking the same thing, as his hands met your waist and yours locked around the back of his neck. Quickly, he backed you into the room, kicking the door closed behind him and guiding you towards your bed. Your hands wrapped up into his tangled curls, pulling at them as he deepened the kiss. His hands began to slip under your shirt, searching every inch of your body, stopping just before your chest. As he backed you through your room, you turned, leading him towards the bed instead, moving your hands down to his face. As you approached the bed, you pushed him back and stepped back, moving to lift your shirt off of your body as he worked on his own. Once both were removed, your lips met his again, this time holding more force, as your hands roamed his body, leading you down to his waist, running them over his legs, slowly working their way up to his member, painfully hard already through his linens. A groan hit your lips, letting you know that he wanted this just as badly as you did. All those thoughts of doubt and anger towards him left your mind as he started to work kisses down your chin while you worked on getting his pants off. Once off, you lowered yourself onto your knees, palming him through his underwear as he stared at you with lust-filled eyes as you moved painstakingly slow.

You looked up at him, eyes glossed as you were just as desperate with him and slowly pulled down his underwear, pressing soft kisses to the insides of his thighs. Moving your way up, you could feel his body shudder, struggling to keep the little composure he had left. Finally, you took him into your mouth, pushing him down until he hit the back of your throat and slowly started to move up and down.

“Fuck Y/N.” he whispered, collecting the hair draping around your face, making a ponytail in his fist but using no force and letting you have free reign.

As you got comfortable with the feeling, you began to pick up your pace, settling him at the back of your throat after a little and choking back a gag, tears filling your eyes but this time for all the different reasons. A string of praises and curses left his lips as he started to force your head back up, almost as an instinct. As you let him, he kept up with the pace until he felt it was too much and switched to holding you in place as he began to thrust up into your mouth, quickly, bringing him to let out a loud moan.

He continued to hit the back of your throat and the gag you tried so hard to suppress released itself, causing him to lean his head back in pure ecstasy.

“F-fuck Angel, you're taking me so well” he managed to say with eyes squeezed shut.

The words leaving his lips made the pool forming between your legs ten times worse as you squeezed your legs together for some sort of relief. As you looked up at Jake, his eyes met yours as he reached his hand down to play with your breasts, releasing a moan from your lips. Just as fast as it was happening, it stopped and Jake pulled himself out of your mouth and you up from the floor, pressing kisses along your torso and breasts, hooking his fingers into the sides of your laced underwear. As he pulled them down, he stood, switching positions with you as you slid yourself back towards the head of the bed, laying comfortably as he worked to situate himself between your legs. Following your same movements minutes ago, he began to press kisses into the sides of your thighs, moaning as he did so as if it was pleasure enough to be touching you. Your hand trailed down to the bundle of nerves as the ache growing between your legs began to fog your thoughts. Just as you began to touch yourself, Jake grabbed your wrist stopping you whilst continuing to kiss his way up to that very spot.

He moved your hand out of the way and his lips found your clit, rubbing slow circles with his tongue around the nerves, a quiet moan escaping your lips.

“I wanna hear your pretty little sounds, Angel, don’t get shy on me now.” he said, releasing his mouth from you and slowly moving it back.

As he did so, your breath quickened as he flattened his tongue along your core, taking you in. He refocused his tongue on your clit as his fingers slowly danced along your legs, making their way up to slowly find their way inside of you. Starting with one at a slow pace, your hips jolted forward as you begged for more, allowing him to add a second digit inside of you, picking up the pace. Moans streamed from your lips as he set a steady, fast, pace, whilst continuing to work his tongue over your clit. Your hands found his hair again, pushing his face forward, grinding forward against his lips.

“Holy shit Jake” you moaned out as you began to slowly feel a knot forming in your stomach. Just when you thought it was impossible, he picked up the pace even faster, slipping his hands under your legs pulling you closer, and anchoring you in place as your back arched with pleasure. Your head dug back into the pillows as you let out a close-to-pornographic moan release from your lips. His tongue worked quick circles around your clit, making your head spin with pure pleasure. You had missed the feeling of him on you, in you, and you never wanted to let go of the feeling you gained back.

“J-Jake I’m s’close,” you said a little too loudly “don’t stop, please.” you said with a moan as you could feel you losing yourself with pleasure.

As he continued to work quickly, he involuntarily thrust his hips forward into the mattress and you wanted nothing more than for him to be in you.

“Jake stop fuck stop.” you said almost defeatedly knowing you were close to pure bliss. Immediately without thought, he lifted his face from between your legs, keeping his fingers inserted, moving at a far slower pace.

“What's wrong?” he said breathily, still trying to get his bearings about him.

“Nothing I just,” you said fighting back another moan as his fingers still worked inside of you, “I want you in me, I can’t wait any longer.” you said quickly. He met your words with a smirk and finished by curling his fingers in you and pulling them out, leaving you wishing he didn’t stop. He brought his fingers to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around them and having you watch as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Jesus you taste so good Angel” he said raspily, moving his way up to be over you, lining himself up. Rubbing his hands up and down his shaft a few times you took the opportunity to switch positions, straddling him. You leaned forward to press kisses to his lips and slowly down to his chin, then neck, sucking harshly assuring you would leave a proud mark for the morning, down to his chest and torso. Slowly, you reached for his member, giving it a few pumps before slowly lowering yourself down onto him, releasing a mouth from your lips due to the stretch his size brought to you. God how I missed him was all you could think to yourself. Slowly, you began to move, setting a slow back-and-forth movement before working yourself to move more intensely. He brought one hand to your hip as if to anchor you there and another to your breast, leaning forward to put one in his mouth and leave one in his hand, eliciting another moan. As his mouth worked over your sensitive breasts, you began to pick up your pace and slowly pick yourself up off him before quickly lowering you wereslef back down, setting a speed for him to adjust to. Eventually, his head flew back to the pillows out of pure bliss, continuing to move his hand over your breast.

You leaned forward towards his neck as he began to thrust into you, letting you leave more small bruises for the morning. His hands now switched from your legs to your ass, having a firm grip you were scared would leave you with bigger bruises to form.

“ I missed you,” he whispered into your ear “fuck I missed you so much.” God, he sounded needy, desperate, as if you could get closer and you just didn’t know it.

“Tell me, what’d you miss jakey.” you said weakly. As much joy as this brought you, you wanted this to last, to be able to do this with him whenever be able to be his again, and you wanted him to confirm your hopes that he felt the same.

“I missed it all Y/N, I-” he cut himself off with a moan as you tightened around him as you tried to hold back a moan, despite his command to be vocal “ I missed your laugh, and your beautiful smile, fuck, I missed every aspect of you.” Good enough you thought to yourself given that he was fucking you fast.

You brought yourself up from his neck, taking control once more, picking up where his pace left off.

“Shit m’close baby.” he said quickly, with eyes squeezed shut, similar to how he looked while you rubbed your tongue down his shaft. The sweat forming on his face caused his hair to stick to his face, similar to on stage, making you want him even more than you already had him. With that, he flipped you over, taking over once more, and quickened the pace ever so slightly, clearly impatient. One leg found its way around his waist as the opposite hand reached for his back, clawing, trying to stabilize yourself.

“M’close too,” you said with tears forming in your eyes out of pure desperation, “Jake, faster and don’t stop.” you said gravelly.

Following your command, he drilled into you as the knot that had been building up for so long finally came undone and euphoria took over your body, your heading stretching back, moans streaming from your lips followed by his name. Just as you had begun to start to come down, his high began as his movements began to falter, letting you know he was there. He began to move back, trying to put out. You wrapped your other leg around him and pulled him closer, stopping his action.

“Inside me.. I want it inside me.” you said quickly, whilst looking up at him.

Without a second thought, he fully pushed back in and released himself into you, continuing to fuck the release into you, slowly and painfully. Once he was done, he pulled out, plopping down beside you, both of you breathing incredibly fast. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed kisses onto the side of your face and chin. With the moment of calm, your mind began to race again, but his voice pulled you out of thought.

“I love you Y/N. I love you, only you, I’ve only ever loved you, ever since the minute I layed eyes on you, I knew that I wanted to be with you for every minute of every day. I’m sorry for what I did but I will never stop loving you till the day I die.” He said sweetly, a tone you’ve not heard in years. You turned to look at him, your face serious but eyes filled with shock. You couldn’t find the words so you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was not like before. It was slow, passionate, everlasting. You pulled away and pushed your forehead against his.

“I love you forever Jacob Thomas Kiszka.” you said with a smile forming on your lips. All that time you had spent angry with him, upset with him, you had just wished he was different and he was. Maybe it took years, but he changed. He was your Jake and he always would be. The smile that formed on his lips matched yours.

“I do have to say miss Y/L/N,” your eyes furrowed with confusion, “I think you outdid the rest of the girls in the pit with your outfit tonight,” he said as you began to laugh about how unserious he was.

“Jake”

“Hm?”

“You’re an idiot”

“But you love me so it works out”

“But I love you so it does work out I guesss” you said dragging out your s’s.

He simply wrapped you up to the side of him pressing a kiss to the side of your head as sleep took over both of your bodies, allowing you to feel content once again with your life knowing you were complete once again.

#jake kiszka #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiska fic #jake kiskza smut #greta van fleet #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #daniel wagner #enemies to lovers #greta van fic #greta van smut #greta van angst #jtk #jake gvf #greta van fluff #jacob kiszka #jacob thomas kiszka

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noeou · 2 years

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DATING ADVICE 4 DUMMIES.

asking your crush for dating advice, only to use it on them.

includes: ace trappola, jamil viper, and floyd leech. ( x gn!reader )

next parts: currently unavailable.

contains: pure fluff headcanons and drabbles. more old formats because this is an old prompt, may come back to this format tho.

ACE TRAPPOLA

he’s far from experienced when it comes to this so he’ll also suggest going to trey or cater, even vil! but his heart couldn’t take helping you win another’s.

if you insist, he doesn’t want you to get embarrassed when you attempt to ask the person out so he gives you very basic stuff instead of bad advice.

though he wants to give you bad advice, as mean as it sounds.

he gets a lot quieter and fidgety, finding every excuse to leave in the least obvious way possible (spoiler: he failed.)

“hey, can i ask you a question?” you asked, feet falling into step with his as you made your way to your next class.

“yeah yeah, shoot!” ace slung an arm around your shoulder as you walked, so you’d not get swept away from the oncoming crowd of students.

“ah, well.. you see, there’s this boy—”

“‘s he giving you trouble?” ace raised a brow curiously, subconsciously tightening his grip around you.

“no no, nothing like that.” you hid your smile, letting out a sigh. “i need your advice… asking him out. like on a date.”

ace’s arm became dead weight around you, immediately pulling away from you.

he hesitated, filling the silence by clearing his throat, covering his frown with his now free hand. "oh. i think i understand."

an innocent joy laced into your features; if this weren't the context, there wouldn't be a bittersweetness in his heart at the sight of it.

"so you can help me?" you asked.

"no." he crossed his arms, watching your enthusiasm disappear. "why on earth would you come to me for that? trey and cater are ten times better at this kind of stuff."

you sighed, "it doesn't matter, you must have something!"

“yeah, i guess. ask them to meet you at sam’s or something. then take them where you please, when they say yes.”

“you think they’ll say yes?” your grin returned at the thought of it.

“mhm, imma head off.” ace nodded as to say goodbye, wanting to put a distance between you both as soon as possible.

“wait wait—” you grabbed his wrist, panickedly, “i won’t get the chance to request an audience at sam’s if you run off..”

“you want moral support?”

you stared at him, dumbfounded, “no, think more… outside the box, as they say.”

a mess when he puts the dots together. during last block before dismissal, what you were implying clicked. the thought of it made focusing near impossible.

best believe he was the first one out of class and was early to meet you at sam’s.

still, any person that approached the shop gave him a sense of nervousness that he may have misread the situation.

“oh my.. i invited you here and you got here before me. were you waiting long?” you placed your bag on the table ace was seated out, desperately searching for the courage you had this morning.

“just ask me.” had deuce not slipped up about ace’s reciprocated feelings, you would’ve misinterpreted his glare for anger.

sheepishly you chuckled, “wh— uh, well… if you know what im gonna ask, why don’t you just answer?”

not that he’d admit, he wanted to hear it from you but this’ll do for now. confirming his suspicions, his cold gaze melted to a warmer one. one you preferred more than the former.

JAMIL VIPER

much like ace, he thinks worst case scenario. i mean, what are you supposed to think when your best friend asks for ‘boy advice.’ but once you clarify, he still couldn’t be more confused.

while he wanted to recommend focusing on school, he wasn’t completely sure if he wanted it for your success or his selfish hope.

withholding his thoughts, he recalled what he remembered the romance movies his sister would watch at home, as if they were realistic.

it wasn’t his intention to give you the worst advice possible, he just didn’t know what else to tell you.

maybe asking jamil for dating advice while he was on an unstable ladder, helping you polish one of the many dusty lightbulbs in ramshackle wasn’t the smartest idea.

he almost fell and hurt himself because of the mini heart attack you caused him.

“ow.” he sighed, grabbing his ankle.

in a rush you went to grab him an ice pack, apologizing profusely, “where does it hurt?”

jamil studied your expression as you put pressure on his ankle with the ice pack, still going on with apologizes.

it was times like this that made him think that your feelings were for him, but it could be a misunderstanding on his part.

“who is he?”

you looked up at him, confused.

“it will affect my answer.” he sighed.

“oh.. i, uh. you can’t know.” you pulled back, awkwardly.

the silence held an unfamiliar undertone that you couldn’t quite place.

jamil struggled to his feet, looking anywhere but you, “i’ll head off now, i’ll take the necessary herbs to prevent swelling. thank you for your time.”

the rest happens over text, late into the night. yes, he was still thinking about it then.

when you used the advice on him, he thought you meant to text someone else (something kalim does often.)

he’s very relieved, in the end. don’t let him forget how nervous he was when you originally asked, though.

the brightness of your lock screen lit up your dark room with a ‘ping!’ you didn’t know how to react to the message you reviewed this late into the night.

jamil: just ask him.

after a few deleted messages, you managed to ask him why he was still up before placing your phone back down.

jamil: can’t sleep.

____: wanna call??

jamil: i cant

[ you reacted with a ‘?’ ]

____: is smth wrong why are u being so dry wtf ??

____: don’t leave me on read.

____: i need to call u to tell u smth

____: oh come on

____: fine i like u

[ you blocked this number ]

not even ten minutes later, you could hear the clicking of pebbles against your window.

you peeked out and were greeted by the vice house warden. quickly your grabbed a paper, scribbling something on it and taping it on there.

were you petty for taping ‘Read at 11:28PM’ on your window? yes. would you get scolded for it tomorrow? yes. but it’s worth it.

FLOYD LEECH

funny enough, he was just asking jade for advice on making you take a hint. you don’t understand how badly jade wanted to snitch, but your conversation was already so awkward, it hurt enough.

definitely tried to put on the ‘heartthrob’ act, only making it cheesier than necessary. he didn’t really give you any advice, more of like reasons you should date him instead.

he hadn’t a doubt it was him you wanted to ask out, but he wanted to seal the deal (if that makes sense.)

“hey, shrimpy!” floyd waved enthusiastically at the sight of you.

a smirk made its way on jade face as he greeted you, “y/n. can i get you anything?”

“no, i’m alright. thank you, jade.” you turned towards the other, “i wanted you— i need to speak with you.”

ignoring the ‘he’s already yours’ from jade, floyd whisked you off to talk in a more private setting.

“what’s up?” he asked, using your shoulder as an armrest.

you looked up at him nervously, “i was wondering, say.. well, actually let me ask; have you ever had a crush before?”

“yeah, you.” he replied nonchalantly.

your face became warm at the thought of the different implications the statement held, choosing the safest one. “me? well, yes i have as well. or i do, present tense.”

“what are you talking about, shrimpy? i didn’t ask anything.” he returned.

“nevermind. i just wanted to ask will you—”

“yes.” he teased once more.

“no.” you nervous gaze turned into one of irritation. “will you give me advice for asking someone on a date, romantically.”

for the first time, the eel was genuinely surprised. “it’s not me?”

while you weren’t a liar, you couldn’t admit to it yet. you’re plan did backfire, but you’d be sure to have the last laugh.

when you went to thank jade for his words of wisdom, you didn’t notice his twin behind you. the amount of teasing you received made you regret going through with it.

bragged to azul and jade nonstop about it later, honestly, as he should.

“what is that i hear, shrimpy?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice.

jade let out a chuckle, prompting you to toss your napkin at him.

“hey, floyd! long time no see.” you waved awkwardly.

floyd slid into the booth seat across from you, “did you seriously ask my brother for advice on asking me out?”

“like you didn’t do the same.” jade glared, “kicking me won’t shut me up.”

“anyways, have i told you how adorable you are, shrimpy?”

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst fluff #ace trappola #ace x reader #jamil viper #jamil x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader

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frog-0n-a-l0g · 1 year

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heres what happened in that vid where sam was learning to play smash

*in the pack group chat*

darlin: *sends pic of sam concentrating hard at the game*

darlin: yall got my man stressing trying to learn smash yall better say sorry later

asher: omfg😂

asher: hes trying to dust off his old ass skills huh?

david: he looks more irritated than i usualy do did you break him

darlin: i didnt do shit!

darlin: its ashes fault for buggin him abt it so much

darlin: he said he didnt wanna embarass himself infront of yall😭

darlin: damn hes cute

milo: hah look at you going mushy

darlin: STFU SHORT ASS

darlin: sam even made a short joke about you playing little mac

asher: HAH I TAUGHT HIM WELL

milo: ima kill him

darlin: guys he made an a/b/o reference...

darlin: im taking his phone💀

darlin: also when i said that david plays bowser he said "ofcourse he does" and i think thats funny as shit

david: whats that supposed to mean?

asher: omg i love him

i might make more of these but in an actual like text format this was fun lol

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bonzos-number-1-fan · 4 months

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TMAGP 19 Thoughts: Bad Scientist

Another really strong episode, and one with a lot to get into. Probably the densest episode yet in terms of historical context, lore content, and mystery clues. So a lot to get into and no point in any more preamble.

Spoilers for episode 19 below the cut.

Sam and Celia's chat is somewhat interesting. She's now looking into alchemy. It looks like she's looking into the exact stuff Sam was, because she's also looking into the Magnus Institute now. Darrien 2 did a world hop and the Magnus Institute scooped him up so that lead makes sense to follow. Although it's curious that she hadn't done that yet. She's continuing to push Sam to keep up that research too. Celia is pretty much always trying to pull people's strings like that. It being such a consistent character trait does bring into question how sincere any of her actions really are with the rest of the office.

Before I get into the incident proper, this is going to be a bit of a weird one. There is a lot of historical context and alchemic terminology in this one. As such I'll be quoting the show more than usual to explain and explaining who people are, what they're doing, why it's relevant, etc. Like I said, it's very dense. There are also a couple of points of interesting grammar to mention as well which would be missed without the transcripts.

The incident's format is a letter from Robert Hook to Robert Boyle who are both Fellows of the Royal Society. Which is a lot of context off the bat. So, Robert Hook was a 17th century polymath who's most well know these days for his work in microscopy with a microscope of his own design, and for his work in helping rebuild London after the Great Fire (which we'll get to). He also did a lot of work on gravity and planetary rotations which ended up being quite foundational to Newton's law of universal gravitation. He wasn't, however, an alchemist. Boyle on the other hand very much was. Widely regarded as the first modern chemist and he's most famous for The Sceptical Chymist, a work that would be hard to overstate the importance of for the field. Hook, Boyle, and Newton all overlapped a lot in a lot of ways outside of these things too, especially in fields like optics and colour theory.

They were all also Fellows of the Royal Society at this stage too. Which to give it its full name is The Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge. It's general goal is to promote science, offer support to scientists, and helping shape policy. It was only founded in 1660 and so hasn't been around for a very long time at the time of this incident. The Royal Society is also what's being referred to with the numerous mentions of "Good Science". In short, it's about using science for the public good and to aid in further the endeavours of other scientists to that end. So the Royal Society is probably not up to anything nefarious here. Despite the fact that Newton ends up becoming its president later in life.

Another big thing mentioned here and repeated throughout is the "Protocol". Capital P in the transcripts. So, yes, they said the thing. It's not the first time it's come up but both times it's come up it has been standalone. I don't know if I mentioned it in last time but I have a feeling that the "Magnus Protocol" isn't really a thing. There is just the Protocol and it was used against the Magnus Institute. For its full title to be the "Magnus Protocol" it'd likely have to be named after Albertus Magnus, who is a noted alchemist himself, but I think it's more likely that the Magnus Institute is named after him than the Protocol itself. The most interesting detail we get about it though is that whatever the Protocol is it was enacted against London to burn out a plague. Which would mean in this setting the Great Fire of London was deliberately set to combat the Great Plague of London.

So now we're at Newton himself. The gravity guy. But also the laws of motion guy, the calculus guy, the optics guy, and a lot of other guys guy. Of note here is that Newton was a very noted alchemist and theologian. Both fields were large parts of his full body of works. I think Newton is well known enough that I don't need to get into that though. Besides it's not the first time I've talked about him. As a quick reminder of that though Newton was Warden and Master of the Royal Mint. At the time he served in those roles the Royal Mint had moved out of the Tower of London to Royal Mint Court. Which is where the OIAR is currently located.

Okay for our first quote we have this:

It was only through the Protocol that we were spared from that Dread emission and I fear that such an act is once again required

The capitalisation there is how it appears in the transcript. Protocol we've talked about but "Dread emission" is very interesting. The capital implies that it's the name of something. Which I would wager is either one of, or the whole of, forces Lena mentioned that need to be kept in check.

Then we get to Newton's work proper with this:

he had finally perfected the work of Wilhelm Homberg to produce what he termed the Arbor Philosophorum Perfecta.

Which is very interesting for a number of reasons. Arbor Philosophorum, the Philosopher's Tree, or Diana's tree is a real thing. It's a dendritic amalgam of silver and mercury. Basically meaning it's a metal who's crystalline structure grows to resemble a tree. Wilhelm Homberg is German natural philosopher that wrote a fairly simple recipe for this process and while it's not known if Newton ever attempted it we do know he had a recipe for this. Although it's actually George Starkey's recipe which is a gold mercury amalgam instead. What's more important is that Diana's tree was thought to be a precursor to the philosopher's stone itself. So Newton has basically perfected something of similar nature to it. With some fairly fucked up results, as we'll see.

Out next quote is Latin:

de ligno autem scientiae boni et mali ne comedas in quocumque enim die comederis ex eo morte morieris

Which is Genesis 2:17, and in English (NET) it reads:

but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will surely die.

Because, as noted, Newton was a theologian too. People probably think of him as a rational scientist atheist type but back then there wasn't as much conflict between the two. He was a devout, if not exactly orthodox, Christian.

Christian or not he's playing God a little. We get to see what the fruit of his labours are and it's not looking like good science at all.

such a creature must by all natural law lack that essential and ephemeral anima that is required for such awful knowledge I tell you here Robert, it saw me and it knew me.

So this is an interesting thing to say. Anima in this context isn't the Jungian syzygy but something more akin to "spirit". The anima has a lot of overlap with the tria prima. Which I've spoken about a fair bit before but is an alchemical concept that sulfur, mercury, and salt embody three fundamental principals, but also defined human personality. Mercury is spirit and is related to concepts like morality, imagination, but most importantly for us higher reasoning. A lot of emphasis is placed on the dog's knowledge and Diana's tree, the catalyst for this transformation, is a silver mercury amalgam. So it looks like Newton found a way impart spirit onto something.

There is also this:

I propose that we enact the Protocol but limit it only to his laboratory, destroying his research and correspondence

Fun fact: the dog Newton is experimenting on is likely Diamond. Diamond has a lot of stories about him. The most important one is that he burned about 20 years worth of Newton's manuscripts.

And that's that. Quite a lot to break down as I said. But we're not quite done.

Sam talks to Alice about the computers listening to them. Which isn't the first time he's had that thought but it's nice to see him bringing it up. Alice is very Alice about it but Sam is at least trying to figure things out.

Lena and Gwen have a Lena and Gwen conversation about Lena sending Gwen to her probable doom. But Starkwall is mention again. Nothing too interesting to say on it though.

We finally get more of Colin. It's been too long. He obviously know's Freddy is listening in at this stage but what I want to focus on is the last two sentences here:

No, what I need is to not be seen. He sees too much already. Doing mummy and daddy Stasi proud, I’m sure. Not that anyone cares as long as it all balances, right? Not too much mercury or the world ends, not too much sulfur or we all go mad…

So as I was just talking about the tria prima, here it is again. Sulfur is the soul which is emotions and desires. Which lines up fairly well with how Colin describes what too much of it would do. But this whole thing seems to tie into Lena's talk about balancing forces. Which makes a great deal of sense as the alchemical symbols for the tria prima, along with the philosopher's stone, all appear in the OIAR's logo. How Newton ties into that remains to be seen but there is a very large link there. The mention of the Stasi is also sort of interesting here. For those that don't know the Stasi are the East German secret police. Germany has come up a few times before with Freddy having German source code, Klaus being a German, and most relevant to this in the ARG the largest body of text was a usenet group about people leaving East Germany. Which then ties back into Colin as one of its member hacked the OIAR, and also seemed to be helping out jmj.

Okay, all done. Now it's time for more of the same but nerdier and unhinged.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 1137 is very reasonable. Just a Weird thing that was very weird and had a little bit of mental manipulation to it which looks to be Helplessness' purview. It's also more weight on my idea that 1 is the floor with 0 being the ceiling and counting as 10. There was nothing in the supernatural element of this one that had any strong resonance with Death or Pain as concepts or themes. If 0 was the floor I'd expect to see it for this one.

CAT# Theory: CAT13 is a great a CAT#. It's exactly the sort of thing I was talking about in the essay on why it's not Person/Place/Object. The supernatural "person" here is either Newton performing the magic, or the dog that's the subject of the magic. The object is the crystal that induces the transformation. Which is a virtually identical setup to the tattoo incidents but those aren't CAT13. They're CAT3, CAT23, and CAT1. It's continuing that trend of data that you can explain in isolation but becomes incongruous when taken as a whole.

Anyone that's read most of these rambles will have heard me mention the notion of CAT# being related to the tria prima. It's something I talked about when the first couple of eps came out. Colin mentioning sulfur and mercury is a fairly overt reference to it, and Diana's tree is a silver mercury amalgam. In relation to CAT# it's always been something that felt right. What tria prima describes and how CAT# works would go hand in hand for this sort of thing. Now, I'd be a hypocrite if I clung to the idea just because it felt good. So I quickly discarded it because episodes didn't line up will with it pretty early on but it might warrant a fresh look. I might have been right but with too little data to see the pattern.

The way Colin talks about it also ties in with another idea I've floated that CAT# is about the domains of either three entities, a triple deity, three purviews multiple entities share, or that each combination is an entity that's a portion of a whole. Lena's comment about the OIAR balancing forces would obviously tie into that notion too.

R# Theory: Rank BC is about what I expected on this one. It's not something you'd think happened but it's at least backed up by a historical account of someone well known. So more weight behind it than a letter about a mass hysteria event, but still in the realms of "yeah, nah".

Header talk: Transformation (canine) -/- growth (Crystalline) is bonkers. Transformation (Canine) you would think is a Transformation that is somehow canine in nature. Transformation (Eyes) isn't just your eyes. So, if this is correctly filed, dogs have their own subsection that encompasses all of transformations that occur to dogs. Any transformation, regardless of what it does, so long as it transforms a dog would be Transformation (Canine)? Growth is fine. It grew root-like things/Diana's tree is grown. So it makes sense. Although I'm not sure it's the most compelling crosslink when it was doing the whole "know the nature of you" thing. Crystalline on the other hand is madness. Sure, Diana's tree is a crystal but it's formatted like the subsection of a crosslink. Or a sub-crosslink, I suppose. Which hasn't been implied to be possible thus far and if it is possible why don't they all include it? Surely this helps with the problem in specificity that was mentioned in the very first episode? This one feels the most like a misfile so far. No format again either.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp theory #tmagp speculation #klaus = kl4-u5

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sjsmith56 · 19 days

Text

Bucky Barnes, Deadpool and the TVA (or How I ended up inside the fourth wall)

Summary: A Bucky Barnes fanfiction writer finds herself in the same universe as the Thunderbolts* Bucky when she wakes up in his bed.

Length: 4.1 K

Characters: Unnamed and undescribed OFC, Bucky Barnes, Dr. Strange, Wong, B-15, variant of OFC, OMC (OFC’s husband)

Warnings: some sexual innuendo, naked horny Bucky, no smut (sorry)

Author notes: Just a silly story that I pulled from somewhere in my mind. The part about the OFC and her husband seeing the new Deadpool movie at a matinee was based on real life.

💻 🦾 🛵

The blank page stared at me. It wasn't blank five minutes ago, but I read what I wrote, and didn't like it, so I deleted it and then I was looking at the page again. We met before, you, the reader and me, the writer. I sought help from the very reason I write, Bucky Barnes. The writing gods first sent me World War II Bucky, a sweet flirty guy who was still interested in the stories I wrote. The version that appeared to me was from before Azzano and before the train; that dreadful transport of death that changed his whole life in a moment. Then they sent me the Winter Soldier, the dark brooding villain ... I know, he was more than that, but that was HYDRAs use of him. He was their Fist, brutally carrying out assassinations on targets they assigned him. Relentless and frightening in his attention to his task he was still a sight to see; that tall, dark-haired muscular menace and the way he strutted towards his target. No hesitation, no regrets and totally the object of many fantasies. I still got warm thinking about the ones I read about, never mind wrote. On that day, it was Falcon and the Winter Soldier (FATWS) Bucky who came to my rescue. It was him as he was portrayed at the end of the series, seemingly in a place where he felt at home in Delacroix, becoming part of Sam Wilson's family as their adopted uncle. That Bucky sat with me, helped me through my writer's block, and even gave me an idea for a Black Widow smut piece that was a gift to my husband. Before he left, he said he would always be there for me. At the time, he probably meant it. Then there was a disturbance in the Force.

Wrong franchise, I know, but how else to explain how things seemed to go a bit sideways? There were the What If? episodes, that displayed Bucky as the sidekick to Captain Carter. Those was okay, then he was more of the dark brooding long-hair version of Wakanda Bucky in a zombie wasteland. At least we got to see a cartoon version of him in the shower, from the waist up. Wasn't quite enough to quench the fandom's thirst for him but it was a start. Don't even get me started on the Guardians of the Galaxy Christmas special where Nebula appeared with Bucky's vibranium arm, opening a whole can of worms over whether it was funny (not to me), cute (seriously stealing Bucky's arm is cute?) and canon (no, James Gunn, it wasn't canon to me). Yes, I'm changing the tense in the middle of a paragraph by telling you to don't @ me if you're a believer in any of the three above. To me, all three of those scenarios were just wrong. I got emotional then and I still do.

I wrote since then, some AUs, lots of one shots as I explored that format, several short fiction pieces of less than 50,000 words, and a couple of long ones. It was going well, then they brought out the Captain America 4 announcement that Bucky wouldn't be in it (what?) and the Thunderbolts* announcement that Sam Wilson wouldn't be in that (seriously?). Why did they get us to invest our time and interest in a six-part series about these two men forging a deep friendship if they had no intention of continuing it in their movies? The rumours about Bucky in this upcoming movie littered the pages of tumblr and Twitter (sorry / not sorry X); things like Bucky regressed mentally and emotionally, he and Sam had a falling out, he became a congressman, or he went to work for Val de Fontaine so that he didn't lose his pardon.

Why would they do that to Bucky? Let the man have a fucking life. As you could see I got emotional about it. On that particular day I decided to have a nap and clear my mind, then it all changed.

💤

"Hey, sweetheart." I could hear the voice, then I felt a cold hand around my waist, reaching up under my T-shirt. Jerking away and turning around I found myself in bed with Bucky Barnes, beefy Bucky, with the bad haircut shown in the leaked preview of the Thunderbolts*. "There she is."

He had no shirt on, and I found it hard to look at him, then opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I noticed the smirk on his face, which made me feel warm, like really warm, the way the writers of Bucky smut describe it; a warm pool forming in my core, between my thighs, deep in my .... What happened to me? Where was I?

"You okay, doll? You have a nightmare?" His hand cupped my jaw, as he rubbed his thumb on my cheek.

"You're Bucky," I said, still frozen in place, because let's face it, it's not everyday you find yourself in bed with your romantic fantasy.

"Last I checked," he answered, licking his lips then running his hand over the beard he grew since he was in FATWS. "You're my wife."

I pulled away from him, aware that he might not have anything on at all. He looked at me funny.

"You seem different. Tell me you're not a multiverse version of you that's been dropped here."

"I don't know," I answered, pulling the sheet up to cover my front since I realized I wasn't wearing a bra, and my nipples were doing something that was a little disconcerting. "Am I a writer? Are we married? Are you working for Val de Fontaine?"

He laughed, showing those beautiful white teeth, then he leaned close, gently pulling down the sheet and began to nuzzle my neck, making me feel all sorts of things.

"No, yes, and no," he answered. "Come here."

I pulled away so far that I fell out of bed and sat there on the floor with him looking over the edge at me with a decidedly perturbed expression on his face. With only panties on underneath that T-shirt I pulled on the sheet, so I was covered again.

"What's got into you?"

"What's my name, Bucky?"

"Sweetheart, sunshine, baby girl, darlin' and my personal favourite, doll." He was resting his head on his hands, looking at me in a way that was definitely more friendly than I was comfortable with.

"Those aren't names, they're terms of endearment," I answered. "I am married but not to you and you're supposed to be an Avenger, with Sam Wilson."

"Really, just who are you married to and what is your name?" he asked, in a flirting manner. "Gotta say, sunshine, this role-playing thing could be fun."

I told him my husband's name and my name. "I shouldn't be part of the multiverse because it's not real. It's fiction."

He laughed, then saw I wasn't laughing and frowned. Angry Bucky alert. "You have to be from the multiverse. If you're not, where's my wife? Why do you look and sound like her?"

I raised my hands up. "I don't know where she is. I look like her because I write fanfiction of you, and I picture myself in the original female character's role. She usually becomes your love interest. But I had writer's block because Marvel has been messing around with your portrayal and not giving out much information of how they've changed your character. It was bugging me, so I took a nap, then woke up next to you."

"Who's this Marvel guy? Do you think he knows where my wife is?"

He didn't know about the fourth wall, was definitely angry and all I could think of was that he looked just as angry now as he did in that leaked Thunderbolts* footage.

"Marvel's not a guy, it's a corporation that owns the copyright to your character." I winced as I explained it to him, knowing he wasn't liking it. "You're not real, Bucky. You're a fictional character from the comics and the movies they made from it. But you know this already. I've spoken to you in your World War II persona, your Winter Soldier persona and from when you and Sam fought the Flag Smashers. That's called your FATWS era."

I started to explain what the letters meant but he just glared at me, so I stopped. He pulled away from the edge of the bed and got out on the other side, naked, and I did stare, I'll admit it. God, he had a nice ass and the rest of him from the back was... wow. Then he turned to face me, and I looked everywhere but there.

"Get dressed," he ordered. "You're taking me to this Marvel place and I'm going to get my wife back."

"It's not as easy as that," I replied. He stared at me, his arms crossed defiantly in front of him while he was still showing everything the serum gave him. I focused on his face, but it was so hard ... not that, you know what I mean. "If this is a multiverse incursion then there might not be a Marvel in this universe and even if there was it wouldn't be possible to just walk in there. We have to find Dr. Strange. He's the only one who can do anything."

"Fine," he said, "but you're still coming with me. Now get dressed."

Holding the sheet around me I approached the walk-in closet, but he was still standing there, naked, in all of his glory and he smelled so good when I slid past him to see what was available for me to wear. Then he was right behind me, practically pressing himself into me and I had to focus, wondering if I had ever written this much raw physical sexuality into my versions of Bucky but it was difficult to concentrate with him so close.

"You having problems, baby girl?" he asked, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel his warm breath making me moist.

"I don't know what to wear," I mumbled, still painfully aware of his naked body this close to me and I was really only separated from him by a sheet.

"We're going on the motorcycle," he said. "Jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets."

"Right," I answered, hastily going through the sexy dresses, the long gowns with the thigh-high slits, the almost obscene lingerie, but there were no jeans or T-shirts. "Um, where are they?"

"In the drawers," he grunted. "Don't you have drawers in your universe?"

"Yes," I snapped. "Could you stand further away from me?"

"What's the matter, darlin'? Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"This close to me while naked, yes." I rolled my eyes, which he must have heard because he huffed, but he did move away, and I was able to get out of that small space.

Quickly, I located the drawer that had jeans and pulled them on. They were tighter than anything I ever wore but somehow, I got them on. The bra selection left a lot to be desired as most of it was see through and really didn't offer much support. I must have made a noise while I was searching for something more modest because he was suddenly beside me.

"Having a problem, sweetheart? Don't see anything you like? My wife loves all the lingerie I buy for her."

"It's not my style," I answered. "Doesn't she have something that covers more?"

"Sports bra," he answered. "Bottom drawer."

I pulled it open, thankful to find an assortment of sports bras. Pulling one out I started to take the T-shirt off that I woke up in then became aware of his eyes on me. Turning around I was startled to see him reclining on the bed, propped up on one elbow, fully clothed, with his booted feet hanging off the bed.

"Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind at all," he smirked. "Don't let me stop you. I've seen it all anyways."

"But you're married. Wouldn't watching me get dressed make your wife angry?"

He grinned in an almost wolfish manner. "We have an understanding."

"What? The Bucky's I write are monogamous. Are you polyamorous?"

The grin became a broad smile as he looked me up and down. "If the occasion arises. Gotta say I'm curious to see if you have the same appetites as my doll."

"Out!" I wasn't in the mood for this. "Right now. Go downstairs and get your motorcycle ready."

Slowly, he slid off the bed, then approached me, backing me up to the dresser, while looking at me in a way that gave me thrills at the same time as setting off all sorts of warning bells in my head.

"You sure, sunshine?" His fingertips grasped a tendril of my hair, as he twirled it slightly. "I could definitely make you ...."

"Out," I repeated. "Please stop this."

He backed up, suddenly respectful of my space. "Since you said the magic word, I'll wait downstairs for you."

Just like that, he was gone, and I quickly got the sports bra on, then a clean T-shirt. I pulled on some socks and found some boots, sliding them on. With a quick run through of my hair with my fingers I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, wondering what I had done to get into this predicament.

He was waiting on his motorcycle for me, with a helmet in hand. As I stood there, he placed it on my head, adjusting the chin strap then nodding his head in approval, before putting his on. I slid on behind him, grasping him at the waist. His voice came over a Bluetooth speaker in the helmet.

"You okay, darlin'? Have you ridden a motorcycle before?"

"I'm good. My husband has one and I've ridden with him. Where are we going?"

"The Sanctum Sanctorum," he said. "Might as well go straight to Dr. Strange."

Suddenly, we were there, pulling up to an open parking spot in front of the headquarters of the Masters of the Mythical Arts in the middle of Greenwich Village. This was definitely a unique universe, as we skipped over the long motorcycle ride from Brooklyn, then the frustration of finding any sort of parking. Striding over to the door, Bucky rang the bell, and we were ushered in by an acolyte to where Dr. Strange was drinking a cup of tea and Wong was standing there wringing his hands. Before we could even say anything the two men looked at me, then at each other, then at Bucky.

"Where did you find her?" asked Wong.

That wolfish grin briefly appeared again on Bucky's face. "In my bed. Says she's not my wife, so where is she?"

"That is a good question," said Strange, placing his teacup on the table and approaching me, assessing me in a way that was a little disturbing. "Well, this explains a lot. You're from the real world, aren't you? Beyond the fourth wall."

"Yes, I guess. I'm a fanfiction writer and was taking a nap. When I woke up it was next to him." I pointed at Bucky. "The thing is, he's nothing like the Bucky Barnes character that I write about."

"What's different about him?" Strange's one eyebrow was higher than the other. It was one thing seeing it in the movies but another thing seeing it in person. "Is there a problem with my face?"

"No, no. The biggest difference is that the Bucky's I write are monogamous and this one is polyamorous."

"And? That's a problem?"

I became aware that I was in the middle of all three men, and they were looking at me as if I were lunch, served on a platter just for them.

"Stop!" I barked. "Yeah, it's a problem, okay? Is this a polyamorous universe? Because I'm not! I'm married to one man, and I want to go back to him. Please, you must find a way to get me back to where I belong."

Wong backed away from me first. "She's right. Consent is still required in this universe. Plus, with her being from beyond the fourth wall we could really hurt her. She's actual flesh and blood ... we're fictional characters."

Dr. Strange backed away, returning to his cup of tea. Bucky, well, he just sprawled on a couch as if he had always lived there.

"Tell me about what you were doing before you slept," said Strange.

I told him about the physical changes to Bucky's appearance based on the leaked preview of Thunderbolts* and how the fandom was worrying about his portrayal, and the fact that after a six part series of him and Sam becoming friends Marvel just casually split them apart into two different movies as if the other didn't even exist.

"You care about him," said Strange, his voice neutral. "You want him to be happy."

"Well, yeah," I replied. "The man lost everything that mattered to him and was tortured for 70 years, experimented on, and forced to become a killer for a gang of authoritarian thugs. My thing, my contribution to fanfiction is that Bucky gets a happy ending."

"Sweetheart, I have that," said the super soldier, from where he sat on the couch. "I admit that I am fucked up, but my wife makes me happy and her interest in our extramarital activities is the same as mine. Yet, you treat me like I'm some sort of deviant."

"No, it's not that." I sighed. "Other writers see you in this way and that's fine; that's their thing and lots of people read them and enjoy them but I guess I just like you better when you're monogamous, kind and gentle. To someone like me, this version of you is a bit scary and overwhelming."

"That's fair," he murmured. "You look like my wife. Does your husband look like me?"

"No, not at all," I smiled. "He's shorter, balding, not as fit. But he loves me and he's faithful, kind, and gentle. He beta reads my stories, and I even wrote a Black Widow smut piece just for him. I think he imagines me as his Black Widow sometimes."

Bucky grinned, then nodded his head approvingly.

"Do they break the fourth wall in this Thunderbolts* movie?" asked Wong.

"I don't know. It hasn't come out yet and there's been very few previews of it. I think the only Marvel character that breaks the fourth wall is Deadpool. His movie with Wolverine just came out recently and is making a ton of money."

Both Dr. Strange and Wong perked up. "Deadpool? As in Wade Wilson?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he's fully aware in the movies and comic books that he's fictional. He often breaks the fourth wall."

My voice tapered off. Was I here because of Deadpool?

"Sunshine, have you seen the movie?" Bucky was also sitting upright.

I nodded my head. "My husband and I went to see the matinee just a few days ago."

A green glow emanated from the time stone as Dr. Strange went to wherever he went when he activated it. Wong watched him carefully as did Bucky. Then the Supreme Sorcerer stopped his permutations and gazed at me.

"The Time Variance Authority are in this movie," he stated. "I have a feeling they're involved in this. But why they would take someone from the real world and place them here is a mystery to me."

Suddenly a TVA portal opened in front of us, and B-15 walked out followed by me, at least a version of me, wearing only a T-shirt and panties. Bucky jumped up from the couch.

"Doll? Is it you?"

"Oh Daddy, I was so afraid," she cried, as he wrapped his arms around her. "I woke up in a cell and didn't know how I got there, and ...." She noticed me. "She's me."

"I'm sorry," said B-15, looking at me. "A terrible mistake was made. Beyond the fourth wall is usually forbidden to our hunters but when you went to see the Deadpool movie your presence was noticed in the theatre with your Bucky variant."

"Wait, my husband is a Bucky variant?"

The leader of the TVA smiled. "Well, yes. It's why you write Bucky Barnes fanfiction. You see him as Bucky and yourself as the original female character. You don't have to look alike to be a variant. It's just that you're kind of the model for the OFC in your own universe where you draw your inspiration from. It's supposed to be a private universe and off limits to the TVA. Unfortunately, one of our hunters didn't understand that. He removed Mrs. Barnes here as an illegal variant and installed you as the original in this universe. He has been sent for judgement and won't be in a position to do that again. We are also making sure all of our hunters are aware that the Bucky Barnes fanfiction that you write and read in your own private universe is just that, private, at least to us."

"So how do we get this Mrs. Barnes back to her universe beyond the fourth wall?" asked Dr. Strange. "I have the feeling it's beyond my capabilities."

B-15 smiled at him. "It is but not beyond mine. As soon as she's ready to go I'll open a portal back to her universe."

It sounded simple and like many movies, a little bit of a quick fix, but I wanted to go back so I wasn't going to question it. Wong smiled at me.

"Good luck on the next one shot," he said.

I nodded at him, then Dr. Strange looked at me in that superior way he sometimes had. "I knew there would be a logical solution."

"Right."

Bucky was next, his wife already wearing his leather jacket.

"Oh, this is yours," I said, starting to take the one I had off.

"Keep it sweetheart, as a souvenir," he smirked. "Say hi to your husband for me. Tell me something. The lady there said something about the fiction you read. Does that mean you do read the polyamorous stuff, since you ended up in my bed?"

I sighed as I hated being put in a position of agreeing. "Every so often one captures my eye," I admitted. "Doesn't mean it's something I'm interested in trying."

"If you say so." He glanced at his wife with affection. "You came through for me. I appreciate it."

I looked at B-15. "I'm ready."

She nodded at the others, then punched a few buttons on her TemPad. A portal opened and I walked through it, then felt the touch of my husband's hand on my shoulder as I was still on top of the bed.

"Honey? Wake up."

I sat up, saw my husband, and felt a rush of affection for him.

"Sorry, I took a nap, and I guess I was more tired than what I thought."

"No worries," he smiled. "Um, did you go shopping today? Is that a new jacket and jeans and boots?"

I was still in the other Mrs. Barnes' clothing.

"Yes?" I answered, tentatively.

He smiled and nodded his head appreciatively. "I like them. Makes you look hot. You should wear stuff like that more often." Offering me his hand, he helped me up. "What do you think of taking a ride on the bike and going to a diner for dinner? My treat."

"Sounds like a plan," I answered. "Just let me freshen up a little."

When I got outside my husband was already waiting on his Vespa. I know what you're thinking ... a Vespa is not a motorcycle. Maybe not in the traditional sense but it is what we have and it's a lot of fun. I still get to wrap my arms around my husband's waist and maybe he doesn't have a hard body like Bucky Barnes, but he's all mine and I don't have to share him with anyone. Besides, now that I know he's a Bucky variant I understand how he knows what I like between the sheets, if you get what I mean. When I do write smut, I'm writing about my Bucky, the one I live with in this universe, beyond the fourth wall.

One Shots Masterlist

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky barnes oneshot #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #multiverse #TVA #bucky barnes variants #writing something silly

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neetily · 2 months

Text

Party For Two — (SDV) Sebastian

— ✧ warnings: love confession, mutual masturbation, premature ejaculation, creampie, fingering — ✧ word count: 6,077

— ✧ A/N: reposting some favs from my old account! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

It’s the usual hang out night, held at your farmhouse this time round because you insisted on doing your fair share of hosting, only, Sebastian can’t help but feel that it’s anything but usual. What was meant to be a four person TV series watch has now turned into a party for two. Sam, currently sick with allergies and Abigail, busy trying (and most likely failing) to beat ‘Journey Of The Prairie King’— something that Sebastian is sure will take more than one night of attempts, she’s already been stuck on it for a week... And well, he can’t really fault Sam for not wanting to make anyone else sick. If anything, he’s thankful to be the only one to show up besides you. It’s not really that bad of a turn out, not when he’s been secretly wanting to spend more alone time with just you and him anyway. Because see, he’s always been interested in you ever since you first came to the valley, and it’s as time’s went on and you slowly assimilated into his little trio friend group that he found himself thinking: yeah, four is a better number anyway. A small crush, he tells himself. Nothing serious, he jokes with Sam. No I wasn’t staring, he whispers to Abi. But deep down, he knows exactly what he feels, and as you finally come back into your living room with excitement in your eyes he knows it to be true— he wants to see that face every day going forward.

“Sorry for the wait!” You smile, his eyes drawn to your blushed cheeks when your attention is immediately focused on the TV in front of you. Tonight seems like a good time to confess, because while he certainly wants to do other things with you, it’d be rude not to make his intentions clear in the first place. To be a gentleman, and at the very least provide courtesy before anything else, smiling warmly back at you while you busy yourself with getting comfortable next to him. He likes you, and he’d be a fool not to take advantage of the opportunity right in front of him. Alone, with you. There really isn’t a better scenario to confess in, is there?

“S’all right,” He half-grunts as he repositions himself to be more facing sideways so that he can keep looking at your pretty face, as he always does. “You ready for the next episode?”

“Yes!” You beam back at him, remote control in your hand as you glance at him for what he thinks is a final time tonight before starting the weekly show, so he does his best to respond in kind. It’s one that the group had decided to watch together, and though Sebastian wasn’t that interested in the premise, he did enjoy the thought of spending more time with you, which is why he mostly agreed to join in the first place. He’s grown to like the show more anyway, though he’s unsure if that’s down to the (honestly, pretty mediocre) cinematography or because he gets to stare at you for an extended period of time each week. Lovingly, of course, he’d hate to come off as a creep. Always cautious about his looking, but feeling unable to control his desires for too long before he’s eyeing you up and down again. He always waits to dive deeper into his thoughts of you until he’s home at least, mostly because he can’t stand the thought of popping a boner in front of so many people and to be left unable to live it down for the rest of his life, but also because he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable at all. Would rather the boner scenario to making you feel any negativity in any capacity. “I’m so glad Sam and Abi said it was cool to continue, I’ve been waiting all week to see what happens next!”

Ah, yeah, the romantic plot line or… Something. It’s difficult to pay attention to the current story when his vision is so full of you each week, but he’s heard you chat about it enough to get a good idea of what to expect next. The protagonist and her love interest, finally, seemingly getting together. It’s cute to see you so invested in something, and he too finds himself thankful that his friends have allowed the continuation of the series in the privacy of a company of two. “Yeah, real nice of them, huh?” He continues out of pleasantries, knowing just how much you wanna get started. Sam promised to watch the episode himself, all bundled up under blankets in his own living room— Sebastian knows his best friend is probably practicing guitar instead, and Abigail will be too stubborn to give up gaming for a show she can catch up on when you ramble about it in the group chat later. Still, there’s comfort in the space they’ve provided him, his chest warm and gaze half-lidded as you press play, the shows intro sequence filling the remaining small space left between two bodies.

He’d like to fill that space with himself, eventually.

Even during the admittedly drawn out intro you’re cutely engrossed, the glow from the TV shining in your eyes so prettily, like there were stars or something, and he cringes at his sappy internal monologue. You’re still far more interesting to watch than whatever the screen is currently showing, and he takes his time when committing every detail of you to memory tonight. The innocent way your eyes are glued to the screen, the unknowing smile on your face as your favorite character shows on screen, the way you edge just slightly off your seat as if to get closer, closer to the screen instead of his arms. He huffs impatiently, low and quiet to himself at the thought. What he wouldn’t give to have you in his lap instead, he’d even still let you watch your favorite show, so long as he could hold you. Softly touching you, kissing the top of your head as a reminder that you are wanted. So deep in his thoughts of you that he doesn’t even realize how much time has passed— it can’t be that much— but he distinctly hears a moan that drags him back to reality. A soft but sinful one, his head snapping to the source of the sound as his cheeks instinctively flush. It’s coming from the TV, an intimate sex scene including those two characters you like so much. Already? He thinks to himself, so much for tension, before he finds his eyes once again falling on you, and he gasps a little at the sight that greets him.

Too many times he’s spent lonely late nights imagining exactly how you look right now, curled up in on yourself as you avert your gaze from the screen with an almost shy look on your face. Honestly, he never thought you’d ever optionally look away when this show was on, but he thinks you’re embarrassed. A sneaky smirk plastered on his face at the realization. It is a little awkward to be watching a sex scene with your friends, he can admit that. But he finds it difficult to feel uneasy himself, too amused at the way you clear your throat as the moans continue to fill the otherwise silence of your living room, keeping his vision locked on you to see exactly how you react to the explicit scene playing out with curiosity. Something he can use again you in the future.

“We can skip past it, if you want.” He offers before really thinking, his heart pace quickening as he tries his best to resolve your discomfort. Sure, it’s fun to watch you struggle, but all he wants is for you to be happy. “Really, I don’t mind—”

“No, it’s— I mean, it’s okay, really.” You stumble over your words, flashing him an appreciative smile before lowering your head once more to the ground.

Well, okay, he thinks. You’re clearly struggling to get through the scene, and though he’d rather you welcomed his help with open arms, he doesn’t mind watching you grow increasingly riled up by the exaggerated gasps and sighs from the show. In his more perverted mind, it’s easy to imagine that he’s watching porn with you right now, a quick look back at the TV screen shows naked bodies rolling around together, sharp inhales and teasing giggles. He wonders if you’d react the same way to him, then just as promptly he corrects himself and knows he’d have you moaning louder than that. And deep down in the pit of his stomach, or a bit lower than that, he feels as though this is his chance to show you that fact too, sighing to himself as he tries to resolve his inner conflict— and obviously fails. Because it’s about you, and he hasn’t a hope in Hell when it comes to you.

“You sure?” His voice is soft, spoken lightly and carried with faux reassurance while his hand stretches out to meet your trembling thigh, sucking air in through his teeth at the way you jump from his touch. “I don’t mind, cause it seems to be… Getting to you, y’know?” He smirks through his words, knowingly teasing you despite his heart wanting nothing more than to soothe. Can’t help it, you’re too cute like this, all blushy and pouty thanks to his words. And given the chance, he’ll do more than just soothe things for you anyway, so he doesn’t feel too bad in his taunts. He notices your thighs squeeze together in response to his words, or maybe it’s because of his feather light touch, he doesn’t mind either way. Regardless, his cock stirs in his tight pants at just how easy you seem to be, how innocent and sensitive you’re acting, shying away from his view at just how quickly he’s picked up on the state of you. You like this scene, maybe a little too much, huh? Not that he’s complaining, his own heart racing at just the light drag of his knuckles up and down your leg, catching the way you shiver into him, the small bite of your lip that causes his cock to jerk against his leg. Ah, maybe confessing can wait a little bit longer.

It takes him a moment to find his voice again when you refuse to answer, and he’s surprised to hear the breathy tone he carries with his words— “You can… Y’know, deal with it, if ya want.” He pauses, gauging your reaction to his invitation to touch yourself. Internally, he’s debating on his next words with extreme caution. Sure, it’s normal to masturbate, everyone does it, everyone knows everyone does it. But, is it too weird to talk about it with your friends? Maybe only if they’re the opposite gender, right? Because he’s had countless conversations about the topic with Sam, but never with Abigail. And he realizes then that it’s because he’s got a crush on you, and rather than it being an invitation, it’s an attempt at begging. “Really, I don’t mind.” He simply settles on, smiling reassuringly at you when your eyes finally meet his. And it’s true, he doesn’t mind, would relish the opportunity to relieve himself in private too if he’s honest— the look you’re giving him going straight to his cock as he imagines fucking his friend right on the very couch you sit on.

And then quietly, almost inaudible, he hears you squeak: “Really? You’re okay with that?” and he all too eagerly nods.

“Absolutely. Who am I to judge what you get off to, right?” He half laughs, attempting to make the otherwise awkward situation just a bit less embarrassing for you, shifting in his seat to hopefully make his hard cock less noticeable. “Take your time, I’ll be right here—”

Oh, wait, you’re undressing right in front of him? Instinctively, he looks at your face for answers, a quick flit up only to be met with a playful grin. Seductive, maybe? He knows better than to assume, though more than that, he knows better than to speak up when your crush is taking the first step towards assumed intimacy. Well, there’s no hiding his hard on now, is there? Your bold actions causing his pants to feel even tighter, his hands frozen in his lap while he carefully watches you peel off each individual layer of clothing slowly. So slowly that he’s convinced you’re teasing him, the continued gasps and groans emanating from the TV fading into the distant background as he instead favors listening to the soft shuffles of your clothes, the muffled thud as they’re dropped carelessly to your floor. Fuck, he already thought you were pretty before, but seeing you take action like this almost makes him dizzy with how attractive he finds you, and his inability to take the initiative back from you due to how in awe he is of your body only further turns him on. He knows you know well enough that he hadn’t meant to take care of “business” right here and now, in front of him on your well worn couch, but he can hardly complain at how you chose to mischaracterize his words when he’s no better than you are right now. “I—” he tries to speak. “I mean— fuck, okay—” He’s laughing, though not at you, and your cheeky side smirk back at him lets him know you understand.

“Is this okay?” You whisper at him.

“Shit, yeah, no, it’s cool. I— I don’t mind, go ahead.” He struggles to get the words out fast enough, but he smiles back at you when hearing your nervous giggle.

Without realizing, he anxiously runs his hand through his hair, thumbing stray strands out his face so he has a better view of your revealing body. The last item of clothing drops and he exhales harshly, unaware of the breath he was holding up until that point. You’re naked bar your underwear, and he curses low under his breath at the mere sight. This is confirmation, isn’t it? That his feelings aren’t just one sided, that he was taking too long to confess and so your hand was metaphorically forced, swallowing hard at the sight of your hand actually dropping to pet lightly at your clothed cunt. “Fuck y’can’t just— I mean I want you to it’s just��” He’s already gasping, replaying scenarios he’s fucked his fist to at night but coming up empty. Nothing compares to you right now, the cute blush on your cheeks, the way your lips part with heavy breathing. Shit, okay, he needs to tell you exactly how he feels. Wide palmed stroking at his painfully hard cock, no shame left in his system when you’ve just given him a wordless go ahead, he’s ready to cum just from your show of want— but he instead just teases himself. Wants to really show his appreciation of you soon enough, but first he needs to take control back. You’ve had your fun, now let him.

He clears his suddenly dry throat while you angle yourself towards him, biting your lip to presumably stifle moans. No, don’t do that, he thinks, cocky confidence taking over his mind with the understanding that you’re waiting, seeking his command like a good girl— and he’s all too happy to give in to you. Watching you drag a single finger up and down your clothed slit idly, eyeing at the growing wet patch near the bottom, fuck he wants a taste— “You can take em off.” He quickly glances up at you, but as if physically pulled back down, he’s drawn to look at your cunt again, his palm circling against the clothed wet tip of his cock as he leaks precum all over the inside of his pants for you.

And though he’s controlled mostly by his cock right now, he’s still a little surprised to see you listen to his words, his voice coming out in a shocked rasp of “Fuck, you’re really doing it…” which is less of a question and more of an admiration. Because yes, while this is the single hottest thing to ever happen to him, he also genuinely likes you. Wants to be with you for more than just this, but a little indulgence never hurt anyone, right? Seems you agree from how eagerly you get moving, his eyes glued to the spot between your legs as you hike them up a little, knees pressed to your chest to give him such a good fucking view, oh my God, of your pretty little cunt before your panties peel and drop to the pile of your other clothing on the floor. His cock hard and wet, drooling over his legs enough to prompt him into at least unbuttoning his pants to offer just a little relief— only a little. Because he’s more focused on you right now, and how pretty your thighs look when pressed together like that, and how tasty your wet little cunt looks as he finds it difficult to keep himself sat in place at the other end of the couch from you, wanting only to dive head first between your legs to eat you dry— he’s never been hornier than he is right now, and it’s all your fault. He’s got front row seats to the best show in the house— you, and he’s filled with need to show you that you’re a lot hotter than whatever they were showing on TV.

“Touch yourself, please— God,” He ends up begging, too turned on to really care for the embarrassment of sounding so needy, and it seems you’re much the same. A small whine escaping your lips that, he swears, almost makes him cum on the spot. So completely fraught with need for you right now that his body automatically turns to face you, one leg bent and pressed against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, his rock hard cock front and center for you to masturbate to— no regret present on his features as he looks to your moving fingers with glazed over eyes, his mouth remaining slightly agape while he breathes shallowly. This is so much better than anything his mind could create, his chest tight with want for you and his balls full of seed, the palm resting on his cock now digging harder, circling his cock faster in a plead to have you match his pace. You must know what you do to him, otherwise you wouldn’t be taking your time so slowly, bitting on the inside of his cheek with impatience until your finger finally meets your slit and your legs magically open. And fuck, what a sight that is. His hips jut up on their own accord once you’re in position, head tilted back slightly as if to try and calm himself down before snapping back to watch you part your lips and drag a finger from bottom to top on your slit.

No amount of porn could have prepared him for this, the intimacy present in each glide of your finger up and down your cunt, collecting the slick drooling from your hole to drag it back up to your clit. He can hear just how wet you are, heart caught in his throat as he swallows thickly in concentration. “You’re not watching the show…” You mewl, and he has half a mind to pin you under him right there and then.

“Don’t care, this is better.” He’s quick to moan. “Can you— Can you go a little faster?”

You nod, and he has to fight with himself to keep his eyes from rolling back into his skull at the sweet sounds you let out at the increased pace. His fist wraps tight around the bit of cock he can reach before he grows immediately frustrated and instead digs his hands under his pants to free his cock some more, sighing into the relaxed feeling of freedom until he once again starts to palm at himself— then he’s tight lipped groaning. He feels like a dirty pervert, touching himself to you touching yourself, and he wonders if you feel the same. He thinks you should feel like royalty, the full effect you have on him in clear display as he touches himself to you, struggles to keep his hands to himself when you sound so pretty for him. And you’re such a good listener too, his cock jerking to the understanding that you want to please him too, fucking your little cunt faster as per his words, your palm sticky with slick that he wants to lick all clean for you.

He can’t hold back much longer.

“Do you mind if I—?” He asks, alluding to his cock as he nods down to it— still clothed, still rock hard and needy, still leaking precum, still wanting to be balls deep in you.

A quick nod of your head and he’s pulling his pants off faster than he’s ever done in his life, boxers coming with them as he clumsily tugs them off enough to kick them the rest of the way, throwing them into his own pile of clothing on the floor to half match your state of nakedness. He hisses into the cold air that kisses his tip once free, almost moaning as it slaps against his tummy with how rigid he is. “So fuckin’ hard—” He hums, mostly to himself, but he’s happy you’ve heard him too given the soft moan you let out too. “Look at what you did to me, fuck, what you do to me—” He praises you, leaning back against the armrest of your couch to fuck his hips forward, just a little, as if to really show off just how much he wants you, his fist quickly connecting to the base of his cock before he’s dragging it upwards to collect the copious amounts of precum you’ve pulled out of him and pulling back down, coating his whole length wet to tug at. And he’s not shy about it either, too far gone with the lust pooling in his tummy to care much for anything other than the need to get off, to get off with you. As he always does, really, even if most nights he’s alone in doing so, but now’s his opportunity to show you how much he likes you— cock hard and ready just for you, because of you.

He doesn’t mind an audience as he jacks off, so long as that audience consists of you. Hurriedly fucking his fist to a desperate tempo to try and quell the butterflies that fill his chest every time you make a sound, pulling the hem of his hoodie up to reveal some of his toned tummy for you to gawk at, to somewhat return the favor. God, you sound better than he thought you would, his own moans caught and quiet as he does his best to instead make room for you, to listen intently, ignoring the loud schlick of his fist pumping up and down on his dribbling cock and rather focusing on the wet squelch of your little cunt. How fast your fingers fuck into yourself, how he hopes to God you’re thinking of him, wanting to replace your fingers for his cock as he so urgently needs to. No words are said, not that he can think of any anyway— head empty and replaced with primal need, wanting moans shared among friends as he gets off with you. How he wishes he could speak though, to tell you how hot you are, how he’s dreamed of this for so long, how he’s so close to cumming just from watching you— doesn’t even have to be touched by you, just being in your presence is enough to get him off. And he’s focusing so hard on the way you flick at your clit, how fastly you circle against it, learning exactly what you like so he can hopefully mimic it at a later date all while he’s thrusting into his tightly closed fist and mumbling your name like some sort of prayer.

He’s getting dangerously close, and he hasn’t even been able to appreciate you like you deserve, show you exactly how he feels about you. And so—

“You wanna— wanna ride me?” He ends up choking out, acting out of pure instinct and talking before fully realizing his words, eyes rolling to the back of his head despite his best efforts when instead of verbally responding, you start climbing towards him. All of it happens so fast, his knees buckling and straightening out on the couch, sliding further down the length of it so that only his head remains on the armrest and you have plenty room to sit on top. His hands work on autopilot, finding home on your hips to help steady you above his lap as your nails rake up his tummy, digging under his hoodie to drag it further up his chest, causing him to moan into the hunger of your actions. Urgency is what he feels, desperate for the feeling of you wrapped around him as you immediately take hold of the base of his cock as soon as you can, his hips bucking into your touch to seek the tightness of your hole, unable to stop the tense moans tumbling from his open mouth. “Fuck, that’s it, guide it in— Sit on it, yeah?” he hopelessly babbles, fingers digging into the fat of your waist to try and pull you down his cock as you catch the tip to your hole— and then he’s done for. Completely at your mercy as you slow the tempo down, gradually fucking more of his length into your little cunt with subtle bounces until he’s all the way inside and he can finally breathe again. It’s difficult keeping himself held back enough not to hurt you when you feel better than anything he’s experienced before, his jaw strained and appreciative moans high-strung as he wills his hips to still for a second or two, let you grow accustomed to his fat length.

It takes him a second to actually collect his breath though, mind clouded by how tight and warm you are wrapped around his stupidly hard cock— so much so that it’s impossible to form any coherent thought as you sit flush on his lap. “No idea.” He manages to mumble, groaning at the seductive way your breathe huh? in response. Causes his hips to fuck upwards into you regardless of his best efforts, trying to thrust deeper into your tiny hole until there’s nothing left for you to take and grinding his hips against you. “You’ve got no idea how much I’ve wanted this, fuck.” His hands dragging your waist down to circle you on his cock for you, doing all of the heavy lifting simply because he can’t stop. “Can’t believe I’m fuckin’ inside of you, shit, y’feel so good—” he continues to gasp, his ass lifted off the couch under him to really drive his cock further into you. The action causing you to whine his name so perfectly, so sweetly as he circles his cock in you that he’s forced into more movement. Like something inside of him snaps, the last remaining resolve he has to treat you right falling the moment he hears his name sounding like that. And then he’s going, his beg for you to ride him thrown out the window as soon as he thrusts once into you, instead forcing you to fall back down on his cock with every precise hump of his cock into you, bouncing you up and down at his own pace due to how powerful and needy his thrusts are. You’re not riding him so much as he’s fucking you from below, keeping you pinned close to his cock so that he’s barely exiting your perfect cunt despite humping you into the air. He holds on to you like his life depends on it, a droning whine escaping his lips at the increased friction he fucks into you with, spilling loads of precum against your insides that inevitably end up running back down his cock with each speedy thrust. And your tits, God your fuckin’ tits, hypnotized by they way they bounce with his fucks— so badly does he want to reach out and grab one of em, drag it into his mouth for him to feed on while he fucks you raw— fuck he’s fucking you raw. A rough growl clawing up his throat at the thought, feels too fucking good to warn you of his predicament, can’t stop fucking into you like he was under a spell.

A shuddered “Tight little cunt, yeah? Feel s’fuckin’ good, shit— Look so hot riding me like this—” cut off only by a gasp at the sound of you so needy for more, his cock throbbing inside of you with want to preform but he’s so close it almost pains him to hold back. He was right, you are louder than the show girl, self assurance running through him and going right to his tip with the confidence that he’s fucking you better, the loud skin on skin slap resonating in the room to drown out whatever is left of the TV. He’s never felt so good before in his life, unable to even imagine going back to a life of just his hand now that he’s had a taste of your cunt, the feeling of your legs squeezing around him as you attempt to match his speed only to inevitably fail from how frantically he thrusts into you from below is too fucking cute, his balls tight and taut as he nears his end before he’s even truly started: something that would be embarrassing if not for the fact that he hopes you understand it’s because you really do feel that fucking good and he’s genuinely that in love with you that he can’t— he can’t hold back any longer. Fucking his dream girl while she displays herself so completely on top? The sight of your tits, your cute scrunched up face, the feeling of your cute little cunt sucking his cock so well? Yeah, there’s no way he was gonna last very long.

“Sorry— M’sorry, babe—” he whines, a high pitched sound to match his eager humps as he’s unable to stop the predictable from happening, looking directly into your eyes in hopes of communicating just how badly he wants to make it up to you immediately following as he thrusts into you a couple more times, fast and hard, burying himself completely into you before shooting a fat load deep inside your tiny cunt. A soft sob of your name followed by loud, gasped moans, like he’s forgot how to breathe again, his hips still obsessively humping into you to prolong his orgasm— the best of his life, might he add— and to fuck his cum deeper into you in some sort of innate need to claim you, insides and all. He said he was sorry, but he isn’t really. Not even when you let out a pathetic whine from the loss of stimulation, promising you: “Jus’ a minute, gimmie a sec.” With harsh pants as he allows himself to come down just enough to move back into action. He wants to act fast, to build upon what he’s just promised you.

“C’mere,” he breathlessly pleads with you, signaling for you to hop off his cock for a moment, forgetting all about the mess his cum will surely stain into your couch. “Jus’ sit right there, trust me.”

And because you’re a good girl, you listen, and he tuts affectionately down at you to soothe the pout you’re sporting. “Lean back a bit for me, yeah? Let me apologize.” He whispers, soft and flirtatiously, helping to guide you into position on your back, similar to how he was just moments ago while he hovers over you. The confused stare you look back at him with is so cute, and he can feel his mushy affection for you edge back in as his cock controlled brain starts to calm down, now focused solely on making sure you’re seen to as his dominant hand dips and disappears between your legs. Not a second later and he’s collecting the dripping cum he’s just fucked into you from your hole, using it as lube to rub gently at your clit as you look at him with shock. “Told ya.” He smiles, rubbing soothingly at your inner thigh with his free hand while he strokes your puffy clit. “Sensitive girl, made me feel so good, fuck— Y’look so pretty like this,” he dotes on you, hoping his words will help you get off where his cock failed— though he doesn’t think you mind too much. Not with how your grasping so insistently to his loose hoodie for stability, or from the way your legs wriggle and draw him closer, the room filled with your enticing moans each time he completes a circle on your clit. Now, with a clearer head and with you quite literally in the palm of his hand, he coos down at you with intent. “Think I love you. Really.” And he can’t stop the loving smile that tugs on his lips, nor the surprised sigh that sneaks up on him as he feels your locked thighs tremble around his back.

Next time, he’ll have you cumming on his cock. He has to, the sight of your back arching into him, the lewd expression you wear so well with the voiceless moan, fuck, he can feel his cock harden again just from pleasing you. His heart full at the thought that hearing his confession is what finally made you cum, humming quietly down to you while he finger fucks you through your high, thumb still rubbing lightly against your used clit while you gush for him— “So pretty, good girl.” He compliments you, praising you for a job well done in getting him off and satisfying his need to see you finish, too. It’s all he wants, really. To make you happy by any means necessary, and he’s happy to fill the role you had him play tonight any day, gently helping you come down from your high with slowly decreased movements until you lazily smile back at his adoring expression.

“Feelin’ good?” He asks calmly, because he obviously knows the answer already, but he wants to check in with you regardless.

You nod sleepily, followed by a soft “Mhm, thank you.” Before reaching you arms out for him to lean into, and he enthusiastically gives you what you’re seeking, his half hard cock resting against your sticky cunt as he wraps his arms around you too, pulling you in for a tight hunched over hug on your (now) stained couch.

Better than any show ever, he’s sure.

“I meant it, y’know.” He whispers against your neck after a silent moment, nosing further into it until he’s able to place a few light kisses against your heated skin with a smile.

“I know.” You reply, and he can’t help but remain hopeful when you squeeze his body tighter, wrapping your legs around him further to ask for more closeness. “But you made me miss my favorite show, so…”

He laughs a genuine, deep, bark of laughter against your shoulder before he huffs defiantly, pulling himself off your exhausted body with the intent on chastising you for alluding to the fact that your show is better than his sex, but he can’t find any strength left in him to tell you off after catching sight of how pretty you are when all fucked out. So instead, “I know, I’m sorry.” He relents, sitting back into his original side of the couch to stretch out a bit. “We can try watching again after a shower, if you want?”

“Yeah.” You yawn, and his heart hurts with just how much he loves you. The simplistic domesticity of the moment getting to his head as you extend a hand for him to hold, to help you get to your feet. “I’d like that.”

He’ll just have to get your return confession out of you… After your show.

#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv seb smut #stardew valley seb smut #sebby🐸

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artyandink · 24 days

Text

amoralism | thirteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, the Sucide Squad formation and it being a train wreck, a bit of family problems, angst, smut

STW: unprotected sex (do not do this at any circumstances), oral (f. receiving), betrayal!era Dean sex so it’s kinda like if Demon!Dean would do it which we all love, kind of angsty sex, rough sex, rather emotional

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Tears of Gold - Faouzia

catastrophism

You and Sam were hunched over a pile of papers and computer screens in his dimly lit living room. The room, usually a sanctuary, felt heavy with the weight of your mission. The hum of the computer and the rustling of papers were the only sounds breaking the silence as you scoured for any sign of Dean.

“We’ve got to find him before he goes underground completely,” Sam said, his voice strained but determined. His eyes darted across the screen, following the trail of data that might lead you to Dean. The pressure was mounting; it was evident in the lines etched deep into his face.

You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes glazed over as you flipped through a file with disjointed leads. The stress was palpable, and though you were trying to keep your focus, your thoughts kept wandering back to Dean—the betrayal, the manipulation, the overwhelming realization of it all. It was hard to shake the image of him as the mole, a shadow over every decision and interaction.

Sam glanced over at you, noting the weariness in your eyes and the tight grip you had on the edge of the table. “Hey,” he said gently, “are you okay? You seem...off.”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. “I’m fine,” you replied, though your voice was brittle and unconvincing. “We just need to keep going. We can’t stop now.”

Sam didn’t buy it. He knew you too well. “You’ve been pushing yourself really hard. Maybe we should take a break. It’s been nonstop since—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply, perhaps a little too sharply. “We don’t have time for breaks. Dean’s out there, and he’s a threat. We have to find him before he disappears.”

Sam’s expression hardened slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. “I understand that. But if you’re not in a good place, it’s going to make things harder. We need you at your best.”

You felt a surge of frustration, but underneath it, a deep current of fear and sadness. “I’m fine,” you insisted again, but this time your voice trembled.

Sam’s face softened, seeing through the façade you were desperately trying to maintain. “Look, if you’re struggling, it’s okay. We’re in this together. But you need to let yourself take a breath.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the pressure of it all was too much. You tried to hold back the tears, but they began to spill over uncontrollably. The stress, the worry, the betrayal—everything was crashing down on you, and you felt utterly defeated.

Sam stood up from his chair, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and empathy. “Hey,” he said gently, approaching you. “It’s okay to let it out. We’re going to get through this.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You slumped forward, your shoulders shaking with sobs as the tears flowed freely. It was as if all the stress and pain you’d been trying to contain had finally broken free. The sound of your crying filled the room, raw and unabashed.

Sam moved quickly to your side, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. The warmth of his hug was a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’re going to figure this out. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You clung to him, taking solace in the simple act of being held. His presence was grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in your mind. The tears kept coming, each one a release of pent-up emotion and stress. Sam held you firmly, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing rhythm.

As you began to regain some composure, you heard a gentle knock on the door. It creaked open, revealing Jess, rubbing her baby bump. She stepped in, concern etched on her face. “Sam? I heard... Are you guys okay? Do you need anything?”

Sam glanced up, his eyes apologetic. “Hey, Jess. We’re... we’re fine. Just had a bit of a moment.”

Jess looked between you and Sam, understanding dawning on her face. “Do you need something to eat or drink? Maybe just some time to relax?”

You pulled away slightly from Sam’s embrace, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Jess shook her head, her expression gentle. “Don’t apologize. Everyone needs a break sometimes. Here, let me get you something. It’s the least I can do.”

She left the room, her presence a calming one. You and Sam were left alone again, but the tension in the room had lessened. Sam’s gaze was soft, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay to take a step back. We’ll get through this together.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Thanks, Sam. I just...I didn’t realize how overwhelmed I was.”

“It’s understandable,” Sam said. “This whole situation is tough on everyone. But remember, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. Jess returned shortly with a tray of snacks and drinks, setting them down on the table. “Here you go,” she said with a warm smile. “Just some comfort food. It might not solve everything, but it can help.”

You managed a small, grateful smile as you took a sip of the tea Jess had brought. The simple act of kindness felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. Jess’s presence, combined with Sam’s unwavering support, helped you find a moment of calm amid the storm.

As you ate and drank, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the atmosphere easing as you all shared a brief respite from the intensity of the situation. Sam and Jess talked about their plans for the weekend, and you listened, allowing yourself to be momentarily distracted from the pressing worries.

You and Sam made your way through the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the FBI headquarters, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on you like a vice. The air was thick with the tension that had been building ever since Dean's betrayal came to light, and it was all you could do to keep moving forward. Sam walked beside you, his long strides purposeful, but there was a heaviness to his movements that you recognized all too well. He’d been carrying the burden of Dean’s actions just as much as you had, maybe even more.

As you approached the office of Director Bobby Singer, your stomach twisted in knots. Bobby wasn’t just your superior; he was practically family. He’d known Sam and Dean since they were kids, and he’d watched them grow into the men they were today. The thought of facing him, of telling him that you still had no solid leads on Dean’s whereabouts, made your chest tighten with guilt.

Sam paused in front of the heavy oak door, his hand hovering over the handle. He glanced at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of determination and dread. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the uncertainty gnawing at your insides. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a deep breath, Sam pushed open the door, and you both stepped into the office. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls lined with bookshelves crammed full of case files, old and new. The scent of leather and paper filled the air, a comforting reminder of the countless hours spent in this room, poring over case details with Bobby.

Behind the large, cluttered desk sat Director Bobby Singer. He was a grizzled man in his late fifties, his once-dark hair now streaked with gray, his blue eyes sharp and calculating. He looked up from the file he was reading, his gaze settling on the two of you with a mixture of weariness and concern. The lines on his face seemed deeper than you remembered, as if the weight of the world had finally begun to take its toll on him.

“Shut the door behind you,” Bobby said, his voice gravelly but not unkind. You did as he asked, the soft click of the door closing behind you punctuating the heavy silence that had settled over the room.

Bobby motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Sit,” he said simply, and you and Sam both sank into the worn leather chairs, the familiar creak of the old furniture grounding you in the moment.

For a long moment, Bobby just stared at the two of you, his eyes flicking back and forth as if searching for something. You could tell he was trying to gauge the situation, to read between the lines of what you weren’t saying. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m guessing you’re here to give me an update on Dean,” he said, his tone neutral but the underlying concern evident.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “We’ve been working every lead we’ve got, Bobby, but…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening with frustration.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “But you haven’t found him.”

It wasn’t a question, and the truth of it hung in the air like a lead weight.

You glanced at Sam, seeing the same frustration mirrored in his face. “We’ve been following every lead, Bobby,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s like he’s just… disappeared.”

Bobby’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, a pain that came from knowing just how far Dean had fallen. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to him.

“Dammit,” Bobby muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. He was silent for a moment, his mind clearly working through the implications of what you’d said. Finally, he looked back up at the two of you, his gaze sharp and focused.

“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice firm. “Every lead you’ve followed, every dead end. I need to know where we stand.”

You and Sam exchanged a quick glance before Sam nodded, leaning forward slightly as he began to recount the details of the investigation. “We started with his last known location,” Sam began, his voice steady despite the tension in his body. “After he escaped custody, we traced him to a safe house in Montana. But by the time we got there, he was already gone.”

Bobby nodded, listening intently, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “Any sign of where he went after that?”

Sam shook his head, his frustration evident. “Nothing concrete. We found some evidence that he’d been in contact with a few known associates—people we’ve had on our radar for a while. But none of them were willing to talk. It’s like they’re more afraid of Dean than they are of us.”

Bobby frowned, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his desk. “That’s not surprising. Dean’s always been good at getting people to do what he wants. But this… This is different. He’s not just working with them, he’s controlling them.”

You nodded, the weight of Bobby’s words settling heavily in your chest. “We think he’s been planning this for a long time,” you said quietly. “He’s always been one step ahead of us, like he knew what we were going to do before we did it.”

Bobby’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you were saying. “And you think he’s working alone?”

The question hung in the air, and you could see the doubt in Sam’s eyes as he considered how to respond. “We’re not sure,” Sam admitted finally. “We know he’s been in contact with some high-level operatives, but we haven’t been able to confirm if he’s officially aligned with any groups. It’s possible he’s acting independently.”

Bobby’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “If Dean’s gone rogue, that makes him even more dangerous. He knows our methods, our protocols. He can predict our every move.”

The room fell silent as the reality of the situation settled over you all. Dean wasn’t just another fugitive; he was one of your own, someone who knew the inner workings of the FBI better than anyone. And that made him a threat like no other.

Bobby leaned forward, his gaze piercing as he looked at you and Sam. “So what’s your plan? How do you intend to bring him in?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The truth was, you didn’t have a concrete plan. Every lead you’d followed had ended in a dead end, every attempt to track him down had been thwarted. And now, sitting here in Bobby’s office, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of hopelessness creeping in.

But before you could voice those doubts, Sam spoke up, his voice firm and resolute. “We’re going to keep looking,” he said, his jaw set in determination. “We’re not giving up, Bobby. We’ll find him. We have to.”

Bobby studied Sam for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, a reluctant sigh escaping him. “I know you will, Sam. But you need to be careful. Dean’s not the same person you grew up with. He’s changed. And I don’t just mean because of what he’s done. He’s… different.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how much Dean had changed. How much of the man you’d known and loved was still in there, and how much had been lost to whatever darkness had taken hold of him.

“We’ll be careful,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “But we need to bring him in, Bobby. Before he does something we can’t undo.”

Bobby’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of the familiar warmth returning to his eyes. “I know you will,” he said, his voice gentle. “Just… don’t let this consume you. Either of you. Dean’s made his choices, and now you have to make yours.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder that this wasn’t just about finding Dean; it was about protecting yourselves, about not losing sight of who you were in the process. And that was something you both needed to remember, no matter how difficult it might be.

The room fell silent again, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you. You could feel Sam’s tension beside you, his fists clenched in his lap as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but you weren’t sure what to say. How could you comfort him when you felt just as lost as he did?

Bobby seemed to sense the tension between you, and he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his graying hair. “Look, I know this is hard. It’s hard for all of us. But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance, even if you weren’t entirely sure you believed it. “Thank you, Bobby,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bobby waved off your thanks, his expression softening as he looked at you and Sam. “You’re family,” he said simply. “We take care of our own.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that you’d find Dean and make things right. But as you left Bobby’s office, the reality of the situation settled over you once more.

Dean was out there, a threat to everyone you cared about, and you had no idea where to start looking next. All you could do was keep searching, keep fighting, and hope that somehow, you’d find a way to bring him back before it was too late.

The night had settled into an eerie silence, the kind that left you hyper-aware of every creak and groan of your house. Your bedroom was dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls. You’d been sitting on the edge of your bed for what felt like hours, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The revelation that Dean was the mole had shattered something inside you, leaving you feeling lost and hollow. You’d tried to focus on finding him, on stopping him, but every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his face—the smirk that used to make your heart race, now twisted into something dangerous, something you didn’t recognize.

You knew you should be doing something—anything—but instead, you sat there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. Your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, the stress of the past few days catching up with you. How had it come to this? Dean, of all people, betraying you, betraying Sam, betraying everything you thought he stood for. You wanted to hate him, but the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Despite everything, you missed him. You missed the way he used to look at you, the way he could make you feel safe and alive all at once. But now, all of that felt like a distant memory, tainted by the knowledge of what he’d done.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door creak open. It wasn’t until you felt a presence in the room—familiar, yet unsettling—that you realized you weren’t alone. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you whipped around, eyes widening in disbelief as you saw him standing there, just inside the doorway.

“Dean…” The word came out as a whisper, a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite place.

He looked different. The Dean you knew was always intense, but this—this was something else. His green eyes were hard, almost cold, and there was a darkness in them that made your blood run cold. He was dressed in his usual jeans and leather jacket, but there was an edge to him now, a dangerous confidence that had always been there, but was now fully unleashed.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand up from the bed, though your legs felt like they might give out at any moment. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, your voice stronger than you felt. “How did you even get in?”

Dean just stared at you for a long moment, his gaze piercing, before he finally spoke. “You left the window unlocked.” His voice was low, rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. There was something different in his tone—an almost predatory calm that both terrified and thrilled you.

You took a step back, instinctively putting some distance between you. “You need to leave, Dean. Right now. You—” The words caught in your throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A slow, humorless smile spread across his face as he took a step forward, closing the gap you’d tried to create. “I shouldn’t be here?” he echoed, his voice dripping with irony. “I think you know that’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The term of endearment used to make you feel warm, cared for. Now, it felt like a weapon, a reminder of what he used to be and what he’d become. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “Dean, please… We can talk about this, but not here. Not like this.”

His smile faltered slightly, a flash of something—anger? hurt?—flickering across his face before it was gone, replaced by that cold, hard mask. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. “You and Sam think you can just hunt me down, lock me up? You really think I’d let that happen?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the stark reality of what he was saying, what he was willing to do, finally sinking in. “I don’t want to lock you up,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I just want to understand why, Dean. Why are you doing this? Why did you betray us?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of the old Dean, the man you loved, behind those cold eyes. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, replaced by something darker, more resolute.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you shot back, your desperation starting to bleed through. “I deserve to know, Dean. After everything we’ve been through, I deserve to know why.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, and for a moment you thought he might actually tell you, that he might break down the wall he’d built around himself. But then his expression hardened, and he took another step toward you, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Enough with the questions,” he growled, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re not here to understand. You’re here because you can’t stay away.”

The accusation stung because deep down, you knew there was some truth to it. Despite everything, despite knowing what he’d done, you couldn’t stop wanting him. It was like a sickness, an addiction you couldn’t shake.

“No,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “I’m here because I wanted to make you see reason. To remind you of who you are.”

Dean’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a grip that was firm but not painful. It was enough to make your heart race, enough to make you acutely aware of how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to.

“Who I am?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. “I know exactly who I am. And I think you do too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You can try to resist all you want, but we both know how this ends.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you. The feel of his breath against your skin, the heat of his body so close to yours, it was all too much. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him.

“Dean, please…” The words came out as a whisper, but you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. For him to stop? For him to keep going? You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you were lost, caught between wanting him and knowing you shouldn’t.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His other hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was surprisingly tender, considering the darkness in his eyes. The touch made you shiver, your resolve crumbling even further.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of the man you used to know. “Why are you doing this?” you asked again, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why, Dean?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw something break in his expression, something that looked like guilt or regret. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cold, steely resolve.

“Because this is who I am now,” he said, his voice rough, almost resigned. “And you’re either with me or against me.”

The words hit you like a blow, the finality of them making your heart ache. You wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to come back to you, but you knew it was useless. This was who he was now, and nothing you said would change that.

But even as you thought that, even as you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into him, from letting him pull you closer until your bodies were pressed together. The feel of him against you, the heat and strength of him, it was intoxicating, and you hated yourself for wanting it, for needing it.

“Dean…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He didn’t say anything, just tightened his grip on you, his hand sliding from your face down to your neck, his fingers curling around the back of your head as he tilted your face up to his. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you, and despite everything, you wanted him to. You wanted to lose yourself in him, to forget everything for just a little while.

But instead, he just stared down at you, his gaze intense, almost searching. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

The words hung in the air between you, a lifeline you weren’t sure you were strong enough to take. You knew you should tell him to stop, that you should tell him to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t. The truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to leave. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you still wanted him.

You didn’t say anything, and after a moment, Dean’s expression hardened. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, almost to himself.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle or tender like the kisses you used to share. This was different. This was rough, demanding, almost desperate. It was like he was trying to claim you, to remind you who was in control. And maybe that was what you needed—maybe that was why you didn’t push him away.

You kissed him back, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him closer, giving in to the need that had been gnawing at you since the moment he walked into the room. It was wrong, you knew that, but in that moment, you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way he made you feel, the way he could make you forget everything else.

Dean’s hands moved to your waist, his grip firm as he pushed you back toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding in your chest as the back of your legs hit the mattress. He broke the kiss just long enough to push you down onto the bed, following you down, his body pressing you into the mattress as he claimed your lips again.

It was all happening so fast, and yet it felt like time had slowed down, every touch, every kiss searing itself into your memory. You knew this was a mistake, that you should stop him, but you couldn’t. You were too far gone, too lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. You’d been craving this, needing it, and now that it was happening, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it.

Dean’s hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, sliding under your shirt to touch your bare skin. You gasped at the feel of his rough hands against your skin, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. It was like you were on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

“Dean…” His name slipped from your lips, a plea, a confession. You didn’t even know what you were asking for anymore. All you knew was that you needed him, that you couldn’t let him go.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer, needing more, needing all of him. It was like a fever, a need so intense it consumed you, and you couldn’t think of anything else but him.

Dean’s hand slid up your thigh, pushing your shirt higher as he went. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. It was too much, and yet not enough. You needed more, and he knew it. He could sense it in the way you moved beneath him, in the way you clung to him.

“Is this what you want?” Dean’s voice was rough, almost mocking as he pulled back just enough to look down at you. His eyes were dark, filled with a dangerous intensity that both thrilled and terrified you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in short gasps. You should say no. You should tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you found yourself nodding, your body betraying you once again.

A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of heat as he kissed his way down your chest, your stomach.

You were trembling now, your body alight with need and anticipation. Every touch, every kiss was like a brand, searing itself into your skin, your soul. You were losing yourself in him, in the feel of him, and you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to find your way back.

Dean’s hands were rough, his touch possessive as he moved over you, his lips finding every sensitive spot, his hands leaving marks that would bruise by morning. You gasped, moaned, begged for more, even as your mind screamed at you to stop, to remember who he was, what he’d done.

But it was too late. You were too far gone, too lost in the haze of desire and need. This was Dean, and despite everything, despite the betrayal, despite the lies, you couldn’t stop wanting him. You couldn’t stop loving him.

And so you gave in, letting him take you, letting him claim you, even though you knew it was wrong, even though you knew it would destroy you.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking harshly as he threw your legs over his shoulders, taking it between his teeth for a moment before tracing his name with his tongue. Dean’s fingers came in to break you further, delving into your soaked pussy as he lapped up everything you had to offer until his lips and chin were glistening, but didn’t stop even then.

You didn’t know how long it lasted—minutes, hours, it all blurred together in a haze of heat and need. All you knew was that when it was over, when the storm had passed, you were left trembling, broken, your heart shattered into a million pieces as you came hard and fast, not given time to think or speak.

Dean was still there, his weight heavy on top of you, his breath ragged against your neck when he quickly pounced back up, whipping off his jeans and boxers, his leather jacket and shirt and entering you with one quick snap of his hips. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, strong and steady, a reminder that this wasn’t a dream anymore, that this was real.

You didn’t want it to be real. He’d leave again.

But he removed that thought from your head, pinning your hands above your head, thrusting so hard you’d probably feel it for a week. “So good, baby girl.” Dean growled against your neck, chuckling. “So desperate for me to fuck you raw. I’ll explain everything, I promise.” You couldn’t think, speak, not when he was stripping you of everything in that moment.

Breaking you down and building you back up again as something broken - like him - until he came and you did too a few sloppy thrusts later, Dean’s hard, unrecognisable body collapsing on top of yours like it used to,

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence in the room deafening. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. All you could do was lie there, trying to catch your breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Finally, Dean pulled away, rolling off you and onto his back. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you. He just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sight of him. He looked so different now, so distant. The man you loved was still there, somewhere beneath the surface, but he was buried deep, hidden behind layers of anger and pain.

“Dean…” You didn’t know what you were going to say, didn’t know if there was anything left to say. But before you could finish, he cut you off.

“Don’t.” His voice was rough, cold, and it made you flinch. “Just… don’t.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, the finality of them making your chest tighten. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to be saved.

And that hurt more than anything.

The following morning, you arrived at the FBI headquarters with an uneasy sense of anticipation. The memory of Dean's sudden reappearance in your life, his rough demeanor, and the fraught, emotional aftermath of that encounter left you feeling on edge. Your nerves were still raw, and the uncertainty of the situation made every step feel heavy, every sound magnified.

You and Sam headed straight to Bobby Singer’s office, where you knew you would receive an update on the ongoing investigation. The sense of urgency was palpable, and Sam’s expression was set in determined lines as he opened the door to Bobby’s office.

Bobby was already there, sitting behind his desk with a stack of files neatly arranged before him. His face was etched with concern, and the usual warmth of his expression was tempered by the seriousness of the situation. As you and Sam entered, Bobby glanced up, his gaze sweeping over you with a hint of the resolve he always carried.

“Morning,” Bobby said, his voice carrying the weariness of long hours spent working on a high-stakes case. “I’ve called a meeting. We’re going to need to think outside the box on this one.”

You exchanged a quick look with Sam, both of you wondering what Bobby had in mind. The weight of Dean’s betrayal had pushed you to the edge, and it seemed like the solution would involve something unconventional.

Bobby stood up, his demeanor taking on a more theatrical edge. “We’ve got a team coming together, one that’s going to work outside of the usual Bureau protocols. You’ll see what I mean.”

With a wave of his hand, Bobby began the introductions. It felt like the opening scene of a high-stakes action movie, each name and face meant to signal something important. You stood there, watching and waiting, as Bobby began.

“First up,” Bobby said, his voice taking on a dramatic tone, “we’ve got someone who’s not just a tech genius but also a force to be reckoned with. She’s the one who can hack through the toughest security systems and has a knack for getting things done. Ladies and gentlemen, Charlie Bradbury.”

The door to Bobby’s office opened with a flourish, and in walked Charlie Bradbury. She was a petite woman with an energetic presence, her short red hair styled into a messy bob that seemed to fit her vibrant personality. Her attire was a bit unconventional for an FBI meeting—a graphic tee layered under a plaid shirt, and jeans with sneakers. She gave a quick wave and a bright smile, her enthusiasm evident as she took her place in the room.

“Next,” Bobby continued, “we have Garth Fitzgerald IV. He’s got the smarts, the charm, and a level of resourcefulness that’s hard to match. Garth, why don’t you come on in?”

The door opened again, and Garth Fitzgerald IV strolled in. Garth had an easygoing manner about him, his long brown hair pulled into a casual ponytail. He wore a casual blazer over a graphic tee, and his demeanor was relaxed, almost too relaxed for the gravity of the situation. His bright blue eyes twinkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief, making it clear he was someone who could be counted on in a pinch.

“Now for someone with a bit more of a no-nonsense attitude,” Bobby said. “John Winchester, a Navy SEAL and Bureau veteran. He’s seen it all and survived it all. Let’s see him now.”

John Winchester entered the room with a solid, no-nonsense presence. He was tall and muscular, his uniform impeccably pressed, his hair cut short and neatly styled. His eyes were sharp and alert, constantly scanning the room with a practiced gaze. His stance was rigid, and there was an intensity about him that spoke of years spent in high-stress situations. Despite the seriousness, there was a quiet respect in his posture, indicating that he was here to get results.

“Dad.” Sam said almost breathlessly, getting a curt nod from John.

“Son.” He replied quietly.

“Coming up next,” Bobby said, with a hint of pride, “Agent Jack Kline. Young, but don’t let that fool you. He’s driven, sharp, and has a personal stake in this mission.”

The door swung open to reveal Jack Kline. Jack was in his mid-twenties, his youthful face marked by a determination that belied his age. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back with a bit too much gel. There was an earnestness about him, a fire in his eyes that suggested he was ready to prove himself. He gave a quick nod as he took his place, his posture straight and attentive.

“Rufus Turner is up next,” Bobby said, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “He’s a personal friend of mine, a man who’s been around the block and knows his way through the worst of situations.”

Rufus Turner ambled in with a relaxed air. He was an older man with a grizzled beard and a weathered face that told tales of a long life lived on the edge. His attire was practical and comfortable—a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and worn jeans. Despite his casual look, there was an air of quiet competence about him. He moved with the ease of someone who knew exactly how to handle himself in any situation.

“And finally,” Bobby said, with a hint of ceremony, “we have MI6 agent Mick Davies. Don’t let his British charm fool you. He’s a seasoned operative with a knack for strategy and an uncanny ability to get results.”

Mick Davies walked in with a smooth confidence. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his British accent evident as he gave a polite nod to everyone in the room. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his demeanor was polished and controlled, suggesting a refined sense of discipline and professionalism. He glanced around the room with a keen eye, taking in the group with an air of detached interest.

“Why did that feel too much like a movie?” Sam pointed out, extremely confused.

“Get with the times, idjit.” Bobby replied with a grimace.

You, Sam, and Bobby walked down the corridor toward the large conference room where the newly assembled team, unofficially dubbed the “suicide squad” by Bobby, was set to have its first meeting. The mood was a mix of trepidation and reluctant optimism. Each step you took echoed with the weight of the task ahead. You glanced at Sam, who looked as tense as you felt. He caught your eye and offered a small, reassuring smile.

“Ready for this?” Sam asked, his voice carrying a note of humor despite the underlying seriousness.

You shrugged, trying to mask your nervousness with a grin. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bobby led the way, his demeanor a blend of determined authority and barely concealed exasperation. “Let’s just hope this motley crew can get their act together. We need results, and we need them fast.”

As you entered the conference room, the scene that greeted you was anything but what you had expected. The room, designed for high-stakes meetings and serious discussions, was currently a battleground of personalities. Papers were scattered across the large table, coffee cups and half-eaten snacks littered the surface, and a low murmur of voices competed with the sound of shuffling papers and the occasional burst of laughter.

Charlie was already there, surrounded by a mountain of tech gadgets and open laptops. She was energetically typing away on her keyboard, her eyes darting from one screen to another with frenetic energy. “Just give me a sec, I’m almost through with this encryption!” she called out without looking up.

Garth was sprawled comfortably in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table. He was engrossed in a large comic book, occasionally glancing up with a mischievous grin. “Hey, what’s up? Got any cool new cases for us?” he asked cheerfully, waving his comic book around.

John, standing at the window, was peering out with a focused intensity. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his posture rigid. He barely acknowledged the newcomers, his attention fixed on something only he seemed to see. His frown deepened as he muttered, “We better make sure our perimeter is secure. Can’t be too careful.”

Agent Kline, with his loosely tailored suit and too-gelled hair, was seated at the far end of the table, his gaze darting nervously between his notes and the door. He looked as if he was bracing himself for an incoming storm. “Is this where the briefing starts?” he asked, his accent tinged with a hint of nervous politeness.

Rufus Turner, the weathered veteran, was sitting back in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand. He was wearing a bemused expression as he watched the chaos unfold. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Looks like we got ourselves a real circus here.”

Mick was the last to arrive, his sharp suit and neatly combed hair making him stand out even more in the already chaotic room. He entered with a smooth, confident stride, giving everyone a polite nod before taking a seat. “Morning, everyone. I trust we’re all ready to tackle the matter at hand?” he said, his British accent crisp and precise.

Bobby took a deep breath, his face a mask of restrained frustration. “Alright, everyone, let’s get this show on the road. We have a lot to cover, and we need to get organized.”

Charlie, still engrossed in her work, muttered, “Just a minute, Bobby. I’m almost through with decrypting this file. We’re going to need it.”

Garth looked up from his comic book with a raised eyebrow. “Decrypting? Sounds like a real party. How about we get some snacks and make this meeting more fun?”

John, still fixated on the window, grunted in agreement. “We don’t have time for snacks. We need to focus.”

Jack shifted in his seat, trying to catch Bobby’s attention. “Director Singer, if we could have a clear agenda, it might help streamline things.”

Rufus snorted into his coffee. “Streamline things? We haven’t even started, and it’s already a mess.”

Mick, attempting to bring some semblance of order, cleared his throat. “Perhaps a more structured approach would be beneficial. Let’s lay out our objectives clearly.”

Bobby’s patience was visibly wearing thin. He tapped the table with his knuckles, trying to regain control of the meeting. “Alright, everyone, listen up. We’ve got a lot of talent in this room, but we need to focus. The situation is critical, and we can’t afford any more delays. We need to find Dean and resolve this crisis.”

Charlie finally looked up from her screens, her face alight with excitement. “Got it! I’ve got some preliminary data here. We can start by narrowing down his recent contacts.”

Garth folded his comic book with a flourish and sat up straight. “Alright, let’s get to it then. I’m ready for action.”

John let out a huff and moved away from the window. “Fine, but we better not waste time. We need to be meticulous.”

Jack adjusted his suit and glanced at his notes. “I’ll handle the documentation and ensure everything is properly logged. Efficiency is key.”

Rufus shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Well, this oughta be interesting.”

Mick straightened in his chair, his demeanor all business. “Let’s proceed with a detailed strategy. We need to ensure that all angles are covered.”

As the team began to settle into their roles, the chaos seemed to simmer down a bit, replaced by a more focused, if still somewhat disorganized, energy. You and Sam exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the irony of the situation. The team was indeed a collection of diverse and conflicting personalities, but maybe, just maybe, that was what would make them effective.

Sam leaned closer and whispered, “Do you think this is going to work?”

You shrugged, a wry smile playing on your lips. “They said so much nonsense in five minutes that I’m not quite sure.”

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