#this is going on my belt loop btw

[falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand]

ugh ok so i'm tired of debating over this w myself, which carabiner should i get

[cronchcake]

shuffle your on repeat playlist and list the first 10 songs, then tag 10 people

I was tagged by @froizetta - thanks! this was really fun (until it wasn't). I would also like to point out I did not cheat. ehem um. ok.

Backtrack - Emei

Could Have Been Me - The Struts

I Want To Be With You - chloe moriondo

Unsweetened Lenonade - Amélie Farren

That Girl - Emei

Autotheist - Baby Bugs

suffering - Amélie Farren

More Than Anything, from Hazbin Hotel (I'm really shooting myself in the foot here but COME ON they got me with the Jeremy Jordan belts. I was doomed from the start)

Poison, from Hazbin Hotel (I have no excuse for this one)

It Will Come Back - Hosier

This is painting a very specific picture of me and I do not like it, but I will be swiftly moving on to tagging more people to distract myself and everyone else.

@crowreys-wormstache @sonicscrewdriver-hippogriff @intricatecakes @space-lancer @oh-archivist and of course, anyone else who's interested, here ya go, take a stab at this, if u feel like it. XOXO ily byyyyyeee

[pupcuck]

STRICTLY BUSINESS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. a lot of misogyny, sexual harassment, p in v, leon is a creep omg, dubious consent but she agrees ultimately 😭

note. HAII can’t bother to change my dividers despite the theme change .. not edited so please ignore mistakes! og re4 leon btw .. no other leon.. :3 honestly I will probably write a longer fic like this bc.. I didn’t make it fleshed out enough 😭 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

tumblr has started to remove fics that for example use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

Tuesday October 21st, 2004

“You’re kidding me, what a treat,” Leon Special Agent Kennedy still gets frisked when he steps foot into the BSAA headquarters. He’s done more for America than Washington ever did, and that guy’s on the dollar bill. You’d think that after rumours spread of you being bent over in the Oval Office, being the main suspect in a presidential affair, they’d give you more credit. “This is my favourite part.” He says, straight-faced.

“Kennedy,” Redfield’s smile is seething, more constipated than it is friendly, like the mere sight of Leon brings him immense pain. “Hands against the wall.”

“You want me to bend over too?” He asks, very seriously, because Leon is a good boy and he’ll do as he’s told. “I can bend over.”

“Think you’ve done enough of that.” Chris sees Leon as an invasive species of sorts. A snail that gets into the cabbage patch.

“You’re no fun.”

Chris calls out a name he hasn’t heard before, small hands land on his waist. It can’t be Redfield ‘cause his palms easily dwarf Leon’s waist, could wrap around it if they stretched far enough. He glances over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of whoever has the honour of feeling him up.

“Eyes forward,” A less bullish voice commands, “Um, please, sir.” This is a girl, not a woman, but a girl. Women are his favourite, but he can make do with a girl if she’s cute enough.

“Must be my lucky day,” Leon hums in delight as you pat him down, “Oooh, are we doing a cavity search?”

“Well…” You pause, hands lingering over his calf, “I’m not really sure.”

“No.” Redfield grunts in his primitive way.

“No, no cavity search,” You confirm, “I’m… sorry.” You tell him, and you really should be, Leon loves having his cavity searched. Oral, anal, if he had a vaginal cavity he’s sure he would have fun with that too.

“You can go lower, sweetheart,” Leon bites his tongue when you ghost over his belt loops, “Grab my balls while you’re at it, I don’t mind.”

“Knock it off, Kennedy.” His first real warning, ‘cause Chris speaks in his Captain voice not in ape sounds.

“I’m kidding, you can take it easy, big guy.” His mind wanders as you touch him up, getting to his chest in which you find a flask tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket, it’s confiscated promptly.

“Are you stupid?” Hunnigan asks, as his handler or glorified babysitter, she must accompany him to every teensy, little task. Her question is rhetorical, obviously.

“She’s just so sweet to me, I call her Honeygan.” Leon tells no one in particular.

“No you do not, Leon.” She says, cerebral and unfrisked, which begs the question of why only he gets borderline harassed on BSAA grounds. Not that he’s complaining.

“Hi there, cutie,” He doesn’t smile often for ladies, they like the whole brooding thing he’s got going on, but he really can’t hold it back. All teeth and everything. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing here? Did you get lost, need help finding your mommy?”

“Kennedy,” Second warning, it goes unheard, or unprocessed, or rather Leon does not give a single shit.

“How old are you, sweetheart?” He puts his hands on his knees, like he’s crouched down talking to a toddler. “You look like a baby.”

“Twenty-one, sir.” Of course you are, lamb-faced and bright-eyed. That’s far too little. Then again, old enough to drink, old enough to suck dick. If a girl can knock back a shot, she’s likely to swallow - not spit.

“Oh, and do your Skechers light up, sweetheart?” You should be at home, burping a Baby Alive doll, pottering around an all-pink, plastic kitchenette. Doing things that girls do.

“What…?” You glance over at Chris cluelessly.

With this, he’s guided very forcefully by the scruff of his neck, his popped collar, to where the meeting is taking place. Chambers is there, and she’s grown within the last few years. She stretches back in her seat, her tiny tits jut out when her back bows. She hasn’t grown in that sense. You stand guard at the door in tactical gear, it’s like putting a spiked collar on a puppy and passing it off as a guard dog. He’d once thought of the BSAA to be pragmatic, they talk rationally while STRATCOM talk a lot of fancy shit in their Italian wool suits, but to put a young girl in charge of such a strenuous task? Leon takes it all back. They’re a bunch of brutes, hunched over sucking the meat from animal bones, girl bones even.

“Focus.” Valentine, bold and busty, sits beside him “She’s twenty-one.” Back off, is what she means. They’ve had brief encounters, but she’s a woman of few words, her sneer keeps him away as it does most men. She could use some dick.

Leon is well aware of your age considering you told him an hour or so prior. Like he said before, he likes women, not girls, but you’re certainly cute enough. “I know, too young.”

“She’s capable,” Jill shrugs, “Real brave kid,” This is the problem, it’s not bravery, it’s stupidity and Leon of all people knows the difference. Jill stands up when the meeting comes to its end, she’s the first to leave, pats your head on the way out.

The room clears out, you stand still and upright as he approaches. “After you, sir.”

“That’s not how it works,” Leon chides, “Ladies first, sweetheart.”

“After you, sir, I insist,” You’re getting impatient, antsy, “And please don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer? Babe, baby, honey, babycakes, sweetpea,” All the classics, “Sugartits?”

“With all due respect, sir, fuck you.” You look at him with such discontent it makes him hard.

“Girls shouldn’t talk like that.” Leon stumbles slightly as you barge past him and exit. He finds it funny, he cracks another smile, shame no one’s here to see it, it’s quite beautiful really. His eyes follow the movement of your hips, the swell of your ass that’s hidden beneath those bulky cargos as you stomp off into the distance.

Monday November 1st, 2004

It sits on your desk like a harbinger of doom. A threat that signifies the end of the world, which is everyday in your field. This is the end of your life. No one else’s. This ostentatious display of affection is where it all starts.

“Nice flowers,” Piers comments, and it’s a totally innocent remark, because initially you had thought the exact same thing. How thoughtful, right? Flowers, tons of them, in all shades. You’re not a flowers kinda girl, but you’re not rude, you appreciate the gesture. That’s just how you’ve been raised, the vase mom bought you hasn’t been put to good use either.

You made the mistake of reading the card attached. In barely legible handwriting, all the swoops and loops throw you off, is that an E or a 3, it’s scrawled in leaky black ink that smears easily, crumpled it up the moment you saw who signed it off.

From his cokewhore nose to his insoles, you have no intentions of liaising with Agent Kennedy, much less going on a date with him. He might be charming from afar, but the moment he opens his mouth— oh, how you wish you could sever his tongue and put it in a jar. Might even go the extra mile to pickle it and feed it to him.

The note gets tossed in the trash, you attempt to dispose of the flowers the same way, stuffing them down into the bin beneath your desk. An incinerator would be preferred, but this will do for now. You’re shaking as you rid of them, rolling back your shoulders to relax, you can’t get him off of you. The scent of his biting cologne is in the back of your throat. It stings. He hasn’t done anything as of now, there’s just something about Leon that makes you uneasy.

Thursday November 4th, 2004

Stupid girl. You’re a stupid girl for thinking it was ever over, men like him persist until they wear you down, grind your bones into dust. Today it’s a box of decadent chocolates, you have to admit, they look good. Wasting food makes your gut ache with guilt so you place them on a table in the staff room.

“That’s not very nice, Godiva’s expensive.” Tight-lipped and repulsive, Agent Kennedy stands in the doorway. Why he’s here? You have no clue.

“Sir,” You fix your posture reflexively, “I appreciate it, I’m just not… a fan.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart.” Leon cocks his head to the side, the lack of mirth in his tone is chilling. “I waited for you on Monday.”

“I never accepted, sir.” You tell him, “I’m flattered, but I didn’t have time.” And you never will have time for a man like him.

“You didn’t show, I looked like an idiot, that sweater makes you look kinda big by the way,” He says breezily, slips it in seamlessly with his complaint.

You don’t register it, blinking at him dumbly. “I hardly think this is appropriate.”

“Sweetheart,” Leon cups your cheeks, his fingertips are icy on your burning skin, “I don’t go on a lot of dates, so you should count yourself lucky.”

“Sir, what're you doing here?” You question, trying so badly to bypass the system failure that’s taking place in your frazzled brain.

“I have some business, but that’s none of your business is it, cutie?” He taps your nose, “I think you’re too little to get it anyway. Y’know, you take orders well, I thought you’d be a good girl.”

“I’m not a dog,” You scowl.

“Smile, sweetheart, shouldn’t pull faces like that.” Leon pats your cheek, then he turns on his heels and leaves as quickly as he came.

Friday November 5th, 2004

Agent Kennedy is on the premises again, this leads to you ducking into doorways, turning sharp corners into endless corridors— Anything to escape his gaze unscathed. Unfortunately, running has never been your strong suit, it requires some agility, you’re a no-nonsense kind of girl, face the issue head on with your bare hands. You’re capable. So capable. You’re strong, and you have a gun. When your fists fail you, your gun sits cold on your hip. Not that shooting Leon S. Kennedy would ever be a good look in someone’s dossier, but it provides you with some relief.

“There you are,” Quiet, he emerges from the shadows like he materialised right then and there, Agent Kennedy is stealthy, you suppose, “I missed you,” He’s hot on your heels, the bitterness of his scent begins to cloud your mind, “You look good from back here, should wear a skirt more often.”

Don’t speak. Don’t speak. Don’t speak. As much as you’d love to give him a piece of your mind, you fear he’d take it in stride, entertained by your outburst. Leon feeds on attention. He follows you for the entirety of your journey to the ladies room. “Sweetheart, speak to me.”

You’re a fool for thinking he has the decency to wait outside, let you do your business, and then once you return he can begin sweet-talking in your ear once more. Of course, Leon shoulders the door when it shuts on him, he jams his leg in the cubicle door when you try to lock him out. Too slow.

“Did you want to watch me piss, sir?” You ask, putting on your bravest face, as if your heart isn’t about to fall out of your ass and land on the floor with a wet smack. He scares you more than any virus-addled nutcase ever has.

“No,” Leon frowns, and it’s the first time he hasn’t had a witty remark, “Do you think I want to see that shit?” Oh, that offended him.

“I’m sorry for assuming, sir, but it’s just that you are,” You make a mild gesture at the toilet, “In the women’s restroom.”

“I know,” He’s still frowning, and you don’t like it. “I need something from you, babe.” Babe. Holy Mother of God, that’s worse than sweetheart, it sounds infinitely more sleazy.

“What can I do for you, sir? You got a kink?” Once more, you point to the toilet, the scumbag bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue wets his bottom lip as he hunkers down to press his pointy nose to yours. You hear him sniff around in the crook of your neck, like he’s chasing white lines without a straw.

You’re brave. You’re capable, so capable, Miss Valentine has told you the same. What would she do? What would she do? Quick-thinking, improvising, it’s not your thing— Your fingers itch to take out your gun and press it to his temple. Your own temple at this point.

Leon isn’t stupid, he takes your hand, brushing your knuckles with his lips, then he forces you to face the wall. “Hands on the wall, babe, it’s my turn.”

“Sir,” The argument dies as quickly as it comes to mind, fizzling out on your tongue.

“I won’t hurt you, babe, I know you’re little.” He almost coos, fingers tracing over your shoulder blades, then your spine, then his thumbs slot into your back dimples. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, it doesn’t look right, holding guns and shit— You’re too pretty for that, I bet it hurts your arms, don’t it? Oh, you poor thing. I really care about these things, I’m a feminist, sweetheart.”

No. No, you’re strong, you’re well trained— You’re the best Captain Redfield has to offer. “Mr. Kennedy, please, I’m sorry about the date.” There’s a warmth that presses to your back, “It was an honest mistake—“ His dick, he’s got his fucking pig dick on your back. “Get off of me.” Yes, you’re trained in combat, but against him, admittedly you have nothing on him. And it pisses you off more than his dick does.

“Cool it, babe,” Leon takes your wrists in his hand, keeping them behind your back, you hear him spit on his cock from above. The shlick, shlick, shlick of his wet dick being pumped has the acid in your stomach reacting badly with your lunch. “You’re hot, you ever think of going into porn?” Agent Kennedy is whiny during sex it seems, his voice gets airy, you take some amusement in that. As much amusement as you can in this type of scenario.

“I think you’re disgusting, sir,” Wetness splatters over the back of your sleeveless turtleneck, it soaks into the fabric. Leon kisses the nape of your neck, he tucks his cock away, wipes the sweat from his brow and leaves like he was never there in the first place.

The panic sets in a good five minutes later. He’s made you dirty, in a frenzy, you tear off your shirt in the public restroom, dunking it under the sink to wash it clean. A few ladies filter in and out, ask if you’re okay when they see you in your bra, scrubbing like a mad woman.

You smile your best smile, it’s your worst smile. The hand dryer does little to help you out, even when you wring and ring the fabric into the sink basin, all excess water and cum running down the drain, it’s weak. It’s hard to care in this state, hands trembling as you put it back on, the wetness only reminds you of him, it’s black so unless someone has the pleasure of bumping up against you - it’s likely no one will notice.

Visiting HR is new to you, the elevator dings and you step out onto a floor that’s entirely alien. With a foggy mind it’s harder to navigate the rooms, the people, the desks. A pretty lady leads you to the right place, an even prettier lady sits behind a desk. Her face is weathered, slightly mean, but she’s kind when she smiles.

“I’d like to report… I’d like to report,” Your hands are braced flat on the desk, slumped forward, “To report… I want to…”

Her smile is kinder this time, laced with sympathy, “Take your time, sweetheart,” No, don’t call me that, she takes note of how you bristle, “Take a seat and calm down, alright?”

“No,” You shake your head, insistent on getting it out here and now, “Special Agent Kennedy, Leon Kennedy, Leon Scott Kennedy, I want to report him for… I want to report him for— “

“Sweetie,” The lady, sympathetic once more, takes your hand, “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about that.”

“What? Why? You don’t understand, he—“

“Agent Kennedy, he doesn’t work here, he’s not in our database, and taking it up with STRATCOM, well, that’s a whole ‘nother issue.”

“Right,” How stupid can you be? Stupid fucking asshole. It isn’t even a loophole, it’s just totally legal, you can’t do anything. “Right, of course, I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Babe, there you are,” Leon revels in your jumpiness, it’s cute. Girls are cuter when they’re shy, when they need a big, strong man to keep ‘em safe. Stoicism doesn’t suit you, anxiety does, it makes your eyes glimmer in the same way Botticelli angels do, your lashes have no end to them. “I missed you.”

“Aren’t you busy saving the world and all, sir?” Still feisty, if it were up to Leon, he’d fuck you silly. Get it all out of you.

“You’re funny,” He says dryly, lips forming a line, “How about that date?”

Rather than exasperation like he had expected, there’s astoundment. “Are you… Are you serious?”

“Duh,” Leon nods, “I thought about it, cutie, I’m happy to give you a second chance.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking— Do you seriously think I would ever say yes to you?” Your brows furrow, they need a clean up, nothing some tweezers can’t fix, he’d have to sort out those forehead wrinkles too, you’re much too young for that.

“Nobody says no to me,” Leon responds with ease, “I don’t know why you wouldn’t, sweetheart, I really thought we had something.” His lips twitch, it’s painfully easy to rile you up. The temper is funny short-term, but long-term not quite as much.

“We,” You point at him, then at yourself, “We have nothing, sir, and if you touch me again, I swear on my life I’ll—“

“What will you do, sweetheart? Cry to your mommy about it?” He edges closer to you, till your sides are warm in his hands, “Little girls shouldn’t talk big, you don’t get to call the shots.”

“I’m not, I’m not a little girl, but you’re a fucking creep, and I will tell Captain Redfield, I will tell him.” And he’ll deal with you, Leon guesses. Stupid little girl, as if Mr. President would let a prick from the BSAA land a hit on his most prized possession, other than First Daughter Ashley Graham.

“See, baby? You can’t handle anything on your own, you’re too little.” He smiles, if your balled up fists say anything, it’s obnoxiously smug, “Oh, are you getting angry at me, baby? That’s no good, why don’t you smile for me?” Leon uses his thumbs to forcefully stretch your cheeks upwards, “C’mon, babe, smile for me.”

“Get off of me,” You twist out of his grip, pumps click-clacking as you desperately try to escape him, but it’s clear you’re new to them, getting the heel caught in each crack— Leon could do better.

“They make your legs look great,” He whistles, never less than a step behind, “Think you should wear ‘em everyday, field work ain’t all that, y’know? I could get you a job over in my building, filing and shit, could wear a skirt everyday.”

“Sir, do you ever shut up?” Comes your shaky yet clipped reply.

“I got plenty more where that came from, babe,” Leon says shamelessly, “Let me take you home, sweetheart, I’ll show you a good time.”

You shiver at the mere thought, shoulders lifting to your ears as you shake yourself off. Leon grabs you from behind once more, this time he’s got a handful of your tits. Without that bulletproof vest, you’ve got a great figure, shit made you square. This pencil skirt and turtleneck combo is flattering, and Leon has to admit, he’s always had a thing for office wear.

To your credit, you put up a good fight, a few more years of training and you would knock Leon flat onto his ass. That’s why he’s gotta save you while he can, girls shouldn’t get to that point. Especially not ones like you. “I’ll leave you alone, sweetheart, if you just give it to me once.” His lies are convincing, he takes your silence as consideration to his offer.

“Once,” You repeat, “Just once?”

“Just once.”

“I’ll bite it off.” You claim.

“Sure you will, babe.” Leon snickers, and because he’s Special Agent Kennedy, he gets his way. Through determination, blood, sweat, tears and a load of cum.

“Keep those on,” He tells you, nodding his head towards your heels as the two of you enter his apartment. “Take that off, and the skirt too.” Leon instructs, and you do as he says, “Good girl.”

He gives you a once over. Not bad. There’s always tweaks that could be made, while all women are beautiful to him, it comes natural to most, they could still be better. Perkier tits, shapely legs, nicer ass— Y’know, you could work on it.

“C’mere, cutie,” Leon pats his lap, begrudgingly you oblige, the mattress sinks with your combined weight. He snaps your bra strap, it pings back on your supple skin, then he reaches back to unhook it. Yeah, Leon can do it one go, you might not look impressed, but he knows you are deep down. “Look at that.” These tits, they have no room on the battlefield, seriously. He squeezes them, the fat spills past his fingers, the BSAA can’t be risking such valuable assets.

He can’t pinpoint your exact feelings, there’s irritation on your face, but when he lays you down, spreads you open, there’s a wet patch on your panties that’s telling of your true nature as a girl. It’s just primal instinct, right? Getting wet when there’s a handsome man groping you. “Aw, I told you we’d have fun, baby.” Leon takes your limp legs, tossing them over his shoulders, he slips your panties off, disappointment floods his system when he sees you’re not shaven bare. He’ll have to skip giving head then. Which is a shame, ‘cause most times it’s fun to see girls squirm on his tongue.

The pad of his thumb meets your clit, he dips downwards past your folds to gather some slick, smears it back over your bud. Part of him wants a taste, his fingers aren’t enough, Leon wants it straight from the source itself. Though it’s totally against his code of conduct, his tongue laves over your spread pussy once. He doesn’t let himself get carried away.

Instead, Leon opens you up around his fingers, scissors them into your tight hole to stretch you out. He keeps his thumb rubbing over your clit, he’s good at multitasking, and it’s the only thing that gets you whimpering, though most of it is muffled into your fist. He deems you wet enough, or he’s just very impatient, and it’s definitely the latter, Leon can admit it.

“You ready, babe?” Leon asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer as he slides into you, to the hilt, and raw. You let out a shuddering gasp as his cock knocks the fleshy opening of your cervix.

Then, you have the gall to ask, “Is it in yet, sir?” Despite the fact that you’re still trembling, shaken up by the sheer size of him. Leon can be humble, he knows it’s not that big, but for inexperienced little things like you it must be a real challenge. You take to it well, after the first few thrusts, the discomfort seems to fade, and your back arches against your will. A real cockslut born and bred.

He fills you up, fucks you like he wants to tear a hole through you, “You need to shut your mouth sometimes, sweetheart. I don’t know who raised you, but girls shouldn’t talk back like that.” Leon grips your jaw tight, forces it open so he can spit down your throat, much to his dismay you send the ball of spit hurtling back towards his face. He closes his eyes, hips stilling within you, then he brings his palm down on your cheek. It’s encouragement to behave.

You’re stunned, yelping sharply as he hits you once more, grinding deep into your wet cunt, the squelch gives you away. The way you’re sucking him in, like you’re a glutton for dick, how your hip bones smack into his each time you raise ‘em up— it's so clear you’re enjoying it. You like this, you like him, just needed a man to show you, to put you in your place.

Leon’s kind enough to keep pressing down on your bud, when he pulls out, your pussy clenched tight around the fat head of his cock, it begs him so sweetly to fill you up once more. He bottoms out, you jolt, legs slipping from his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. It’s then he’s reminded of your heels, they dig into his back, and your little hands come to rest on his ass to force him deeper and deeper, which Leon isn’t all that fond of, but you’re an unruly girl.

“Look how bad you want it.” Leon licks into your mouth, sucks on your tongue, “I knew it, baby, I knew you wanted it.” He drives his hips into you with such force, pussy gushing around him, your release trickles out of you with each thrust. “Messy girl.” He taunts, abdomen wet and his cock wetter.

You’re hit with aftershocks as he continues to pump into your sensitive pussy, clit twitching, he has enough sense to pull out. Leon isn’t an idiot. His cock rests heavy on your stomach, he urges you to take it in your hand, and you do. His hand wraps around yours, helps you jerk him off like you should’ve been glad to do in the restrooms earlier. “That’s it, you’re getting good at it, baby, you’re learning.” Leon’s load is sticky, shooting ropes of pearly white over your fingers, dripping down your wrist.

“Sir, this is it now, isn’t it?” You get down to business fast, acting like your pussy wasn’t springing a leak on his cock, “You’ll leave me alone now? If you don’t, I really will tell him, I will do something about it I swear on my fucking life.”

He says yes, but Leon is already thinking of what to send you next week. On Monday it might be a teddy bear, the ones that hold stuffed hearts in their stuffed arms. Tuesday, another bouquet, or a dress, a tight one that brings out your eyes. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, he has plenty of time to chase you again.

[fictionalmenxyn]

Ok so this is totally stupid and silly but can I get head cannons for 141, Alejandro, Rudy and Konig if you write for them with a reader insisting they can pick them (the character) up and you can chose if they fail at it or succeed, thank you if you do this btw :3

This isn’t stupid or silly it’s good! Never feel embarrassed or awkward of anything you’d like to see me write I love cool and quirky concepts it makes it more fun to write! And of course I can do this for you and others to read. Have a good day/night

Ghost

Feeling like he’d do it for a workout or something

Like he’s about to do sit ups and your sat either watching him and counting or your on your phone

And he randomly told you to get on his back and obviously with his huge muscular structure you wouldn’t say no

You sat on his back as he did push ups

Or he’d tell you to bear hug his back and wrap your legs around his hips so he can do weighted pull ups

He definitely can pick you up with ease

If you have your utility vest on and your almost about to get into a fight or your arguing with Soap as he finds it funny when you angry

He just grabs both of the shoulder parts and pick you up like your a 5kg dumbbell

Soap

Does it probably as a joke

He would make sure your by a sofa and he’d sling you over his shoulder and drop you onto the sofa (my brother did that when I was younger does anyone else’s do it too?😂😂)

Yeah he’d drop you them probably get straight into play fighting

Or he’d pick you up in a hug type of way

He’d bear hug you and pick you up and at the same time squeeze you

Sometimes it’s like going to a chiropractor when he squeezes it makes your back crack not to hard though

He definitely does the sofa thing when your about to watch a movie like when your about to watch something and your going to sit down he just does that. Hopefully you don’t have popcorn or any drink in your hand

Or when your about to sit down as he tend to wind you up

Gaz

Definitely a wind up!!

If your just standing and talking to someone he’d just pick you up from behind and and tickle your sides

Or he’d do it to move your out of the way

He knows that if your into him putting his hands on your hips he’ll do it in any way shape or form

He’ll need something or wants to get past he places his hand on your sides and pick you up a little

It makes your head rush and cheeks flushed

Sometimes like soap he’ll throw you onto the sofa for a laugh and wind up

But he fails at holding you for a long period of time not because of weight but his grip isn’t the best as he uses your belt loops to pick you up usually

Price

Like soap he’ll do it as a hug

But other times he’d do it cause you ask him to maybe grab something or you just enjoy it. Possibly so you could give him a kiss or something whatever you want to think of it as

When he hugs he’ll pick you up maybe sometimes to place you on a table or counter so your almost the same height or at the same eye level

When he can he’ll give you a hug and pick you up

If something is good that caused him to have a good day and mood he’d hug you and spin you a little as if you like a kid or you’ve both just met up after a year long holiday

Although you enjoy when he picks you up he actually loves it to but doesn’t say it

But deep down you both know he enjoys it as much as you

He knows that you love it so it makes him happy cause he knows you are

Alejandro

Feel like he’ll poke your sides as a tickle then picks you up as like a greeting or like smile fun

He can be like Ghost when it comes to gym

If your gym is shut or you both can’t go out as something has popped up or whatever and you both have to make a gym in your garage/garden/spare room

Then he’ll use you instead of weights if you don’t have any but he does it on purpose most times as you find it attractive

Lifts you up easy but it’s not like Ghost where he can lift you above his shoulders or head

Feel like as a human isn’t physically capable of staying as stiff as a board and easy to hold it’s a bit difficult for him to hold you above his shoulder and head

He loves it though he likes how it’s helping him stay fit yet keeping you entertained the whole time

But yes he is able to lift you just to a certain extent

Rudy

He probably could lift you but chooses not to

He feels like it isn’t the best way to show his love and he feels like it wouldn’t be that comfortable

He loves hugging and such just not licking you up

He most likely could but he appreciates if both of your feet are on the ground

He does this because before when he was younger his friends were doing it to see how strong they are and when they lifted him

He wasn’t a fan and he felt uncomfortable so he knows what it’s like and doesn’t feel fondly of picking you or anyone up

The only way he’ll pick you up is with cheesy pick up lines or jokes

Like said before he can but won’t he likes to hug and kiss you not picking you up

König

With ease!!

This man is a strong giant of course he can

He’ll ask if your comfortable with it if he did it without telling you so like a surprise attack and he tickled you after

If you like it he’ll do it more often as he knows you like it

One time you were both on a walk and this dog wouldn’t leave you alone and kept sniffing you and you weren’t liking it (weighed your allergic or don’t like dogs)

So with ease he picked you up and placed you on his back like a piggy back ride

But if it’s a big dog and can still reach he’d put you on his shoulders

He loves to pick you up cause you can be eye level with him so you two can kiss or stare into each others eyes. He likes it also because he can watch as your smile grew knowing you knew who was picking you up as it was a thing just between you two

[nymphomatique]

doing the TikTok couple outfit trend with nerd!miguel

this just sent me to my early grave btw

cw: none! fluff with barely one instance of suggestive language. also maybe angst if you squint. gn!reader with a fem outfit!

wc: ~ 600

❤︎ a/n: this was so cute im :(((. if you haven’t see the trend nonnie was referencing, here is an example! proofread today yippee!! happy reading <3

*all pictures are just for scene setting! reader has no specific race, genitals, body type, or pronouns mentioned!*

put the timer on before you press play,” you laugh, watching miguel fiddle with your phone. as tech savvy as he is, you find it endearing that he can’t operate tiktok properly.

the two of you were on a park date, picnic basket in hand as the sun shines overcast, warming your skin, matching the warmth you’ve been feeling all day. after a rough week, miguel had offered to cheer you up, by way of picnic, and you agreed, albeit with reluctance.

it had been your idea to match, of course. the small unspoken ways you feel comfortable giving affection towards him without outwardly saying the three words that stir and uneasy feeling in you.

naturally for a picnic, you opted for gingham, red of course, sporting by way of a long sleeved off the shoulder crop top with lace trim, and a denim mini skirt to match. the shoes were less understated with the farmers look you had going on, your steve madden platform sandals bringing your more than necessary edge to your outfit. miguel, still hunched down finicking with your phone, matched with you, wearing a red gingham shirt, unbuttoned with a white tee underneath. his light-wash blue jeans sat well on his hips, held up by a black leather belt, the same color as the loafers on his feet.

you had seen an influx of videos of couples on vacations and regular outings matching outfits and chronicling it in form of tiktoks, and some part of you felt like it would make you feel all the more conflicted in your feelings, but the other part of you wanted to hold hands with miguel and show off your matching outfits to the world, and the former part of you won.

bringing you back to now, where miguel finally has managed to set up the timer for your tiktok, but not without muttering, “the user interface is stupid. anyone could have trouble with it.” you can only laugh, admiring his clean shaven face, pouted lips, strong nose and soft eyes as he looks at you and asks if he can press play yet. you fix his hair, looping the little piece in the front around your finger to fix the curl and look at him in the eyes, his face red.

“yes.”

-

“miguel, you cross your legs, and then clap. not the other way around. this is the second time!”

“that’s not what they did in the video i saw..”

“that’s because it’s not the one i sent you. i suggested this, so we’re doing it my way, not yours.”

after three takes of miguel either crossing his legs the wrong way or completely missing his cue, you were sure this take would be it.

so when he presses play and the timer goes off, you watch the minuscule versions him and you in your phones screen, and by some high power, you’re both in sync. and can help but laugh and exclaim your joy, pull him in for a kiss at his success. a kiss in which miguel gladly returns, lipstick marks be damned.

you look away shyly when you pull away. “knew you could do it,” you say, gaze lowered to the gold chain hanging from miguel’s thick neck.

“only cause i listened to you, my love,” he returns, bringing your gaze to his by pushing your head up with his index finger at your chin.

you give him a light pec before slapping his chest softly. “should have been listening to me the whole damn time. i’ve been too nice to you lately.”

“teach me a lesson later,” he says, the look of mischief in his eyes not unnoticed by you. “first, we eat. c’mom.”

with his hand in yours, you stroll through the park. together, and happy.

[the-kr8tor]

hihi!! I hope you're having a great day and a new year!

I have a small fic request (u can take it any other forms u want, all up to you!) Can I request a fic where reader asked Hobie if he would rather elope instead of a normal wedding? Since he doesn't like the idea of getting marriage (My hc by the way). Eloping is still kinda like a wedding but just the two of them! No loud music, not alot of money spent etc etc! U can write on how they would do it!

(also I'd like to imagine this is them getting 'enganged' before having the twins HEEHHEHEHE) (i hope this isn't too much) (i would love to see on how you'd write this!!)

reader can be gn or FEM btw :)

Thank you for the adorable request 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Brown/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: No use Y/N, no specific description of the reader (r is mentioned wearing makeup though), lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie watches you sing with the band that's currently playing further away on stage. He dragged you out behind all the crowd so you could properly enjoy the concert without getting elbowed by someone. He doesn't mind standing that far from the stage since he gets to see you dance unabashedly when there aren't a lot of people this far back.

The music isn't that loud from where you're both standing, helping Hobie hear your singing, providing a front row seat to your very own concert. He thinks you deserve top billing from how you belt out the lyrics.

The strobe lights illuminate your face, lighting up your best features, add it up with the moonlight shining directly at you like your very own spotlight, he can't get his eyes off you, lips softly smiling, fondness seeping out from his pores.

You feel his stare before you feel his featherlight touch atop your arm, knuckles brushing on your skin, goosebumps spreading through them like fire.

Grinning at him, you wipe sweat off your brow, guessing the summer heat has probably melted all of your makeup, thinking that you look worse for wear.

“Yeah, Hobs?” He once hated that nickname but with you saying it, it might as well be his given name. He loves it if it's you who says it.

Hobie has never seen you look so beautiful even with your mascara running down your cheeks. He's seen you at your worst, loved you more through it, and will continue to love you through your best too.

He loops his pinky around yours, clammy hands meeting equally clammy skin. He blames the weather for the lack of physical affection, if it weren't for the heat he'd be embracing you like a boa constrictor, taking your breath away without devouring you for dinner of course.

“You okay? You look like you're about to pass out. Do you want to sit down for a minute?”

His next words shocks you both.

“I have no idea where we go from here.”

“What?” You chuckle nervously. Maybe you should've worn waterproof mascara. “What are you saying, Hobie?” You forgo his pinky, opting to hold both his hands instead.

Your frown tells him he should've thought this through.

“Sorry,” he laughs shakily, none of the usual Hobie charisma you're used to. “I meant, fuck this is hard.” he's sweating, why did he decide to wear leather vest and heavy boots in this heat? He blames the weather for his shortcomings.

Your heart falls in your stomach. “Are you…are you breaking up with me?” words barely strung together with your tongue tied up.

“What? No!” Hobie backtracks in a split second. “No, love, that's not what I meant.” shaking his head, he removes his hands from yours, deepening your frown.

In an attempt to fix his blunder, he cups your face, thumbs rubbing just under your eyes, spreading the dark ink all over your skin. He definitely needed to think it all through.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, mascara running with the wetness, turning you into one of the heavy metal band mates that played a couple hours ago.

“Shit!” He roams his face around the concert hall, not knowing how to fix the situation.

“What did you really mean, Hobie?” You sob, balling his shirt in your hands tightly.

Hobie inhales and exhales, collecting his thoughts properly. “We're living together.”

“Uh huh.” You nod, confused.

“We clearly love each other.”

“You're just stating the obvious.” you pause your weeping when he groans in frustration. “What is happening?”

“I–” his next words surprises you more than him. “I wanna fuckin' marry you, love.”

You blink rapidly, tilting your head, utterly flabbergasted. “Huh?”

“That's what I meant with ‘I have no idea where we go from here.’” he sighs, facepalming, pursing his lips. “I want to take another step forward with you, but fuckin' hell I hate the bloody pomp and circumstance of it all.” A smile spreads across your face with every word he says.

Did he just ask for your hand in marriage?

“At the same time I don't think we have to marry just so people would know how committed we are to each other.” He's rambling and you smile wider through mascara filled tears. “Not to mention the fuckin' government knowing about all of it, seriously, why can't they just mind their own business about—”

“Hobs,” it's your turn to hold his face, he stops speaking, his chest heaving, eyes glued to you. “Let's elope then.” Hobie mentally conks himself right on the head for not thinking that. “just us, no two hundred guests, no thousands of pounds needed for the ceremony, no stuffy officiant. Just us and our vows.”

Hobie laughs at himself before he places his head on your shoulder, he can't believe he just asked you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Nosing your neck, he embraces you fully, swinging you slightly to the music that's definitely not for slow dancing. Holding on to him, you kiss his hairline, tracing it with your lips.

While Hobie recuperates from his blunder, you on the other hand feel like you're about to burst out of the seams, flooding the entire venue with your love for the man before you.

After the song ends and they announce the new act, with the roar of the crowd Hobie has one last thing to add.

“Let's do it now.” Hobie lifts his head, facing you in all your glory, heart shaped eyes staring at him affectionately, face aglow with so much love that Hobie can feel it flowing directly to his chest. “Let's elope right now, say our vows, we don't need an officiant to declare us married when the band corroded coffin works just as fine.”

“With a few hundred witnesses and a cover band as our wedding singers?” You loop your arms around his neck, linking your fingers together just to hold him closer. Nodding, you can't help but giggle. “Sure, let's do it right now.”

“You first.” Hobie thinks he chose right.

“Nu-huh, you asked, you go first.”

With a joking huff and a thumping heart, he eggs you on.

“I think the bride goes first.”

“Yeah? You've been to a ton of weddings?”

He laughs, the sound is better than the band playing in the background. And in that musky concert hall, underneath the stars and strobe lights, you do your vows.

“Okay, I'll go first.” You clear your throat, hands shaking not from nerves but from excitement. “I vow to always mend your wounds when you get home.” He smiles, eyes shining with unshed happy tears. “But I can't promise that I won't complain and nag you the entire time.”

Chuckling, you continue. “I vow to always be understanding, and to love you until I'm six feet under ground and even then I'd continue to love the shit out of you, Hobart Larry Brown. Even love your government name.”

Hobie can't help in anymore so he leans in but you stop him with your hand shielding your lips.

“You're horrible.” His words lack venom, all love and endearment pointed at you.

“I just vowed to love you unconditionally and you call me horrible?” Your words are muffled that he barely understood it. Yet he still pecks the top of your hand, to satisfy his need to kiss you. “You're not allowed to kiss me, not until we finish our vows.”

He rolls his eyes comically and you laugh. Your lips hurt from all the smiling.

Face hot, (not from the weather) you wipe his cheek free from sweat, leaving your hand to grasp his face. You hope it's enough to convey how utterly in love you are with him.

“My turn?”

“Mm-hmm”

Hobie inhales, he has fought a bunch of villains who wanted to end him but asking you if you want to marry him has him more terrified than facing green goblin. He's exhausted just from that. But he's more than ready to do this, to make his vows. It's only you isn't it? The love of his life who's currently staring at him warmly.

He's glad you agreed to elope, he can't imagine doing this in front of a hundred guests.

“I vow to always come home even when I'm beat up and bloodied. I'll crawl just to get to you.”

If your makeup wasn't ruined before it's properly ruined now with how much tears you're letting out. A few people look at you two weirdly.

“I vow to make time for you, I'd sacrifice sleep if you ask me.” He whispers the next line. “I'm serious. That's how much I love you.”

You laugh through the tears, gripping his collar, it might look like you're about to beat him up but you're actually holding back from snogging the shit out him.

“I promise to love you as long as you let me.” Hobie takes one of his rings off his finger, a favourite of his, a promise to you. The word wife slips his tongue and it has you almost fainting.

That got you and now you're sobbing your heart out. But after a beat, he lifts your face by your chin to let him look at you, he's right, he chose the right one.

“How does forever sound?” you manage to let out, lips still wobbly.

“Perfect. Forever sounds bloody perfect.” He leans once again, this time you don't stop him.

“You may kiss the sweaty bride.” You laugh and you kiss your husband.

[bigfatbimbo]

Hello, my dear! Love that you/others enjoyed my thought and rambles! Speaking of emojis, because I'm a bastard, can I be 🍆 anon??? If that's taken, I could also go for 💦 anon?? Also, forgive me for any spelling errors, wrote this at 2 am

* ----------- * ----------- *

Vee's Dom 2: Even More Rambling (because these idiots won't leave me alone)

- If their dom ever become famous, which is likely, and the fans create edits of them, the Vees would absolutely save those vids and watch them over and over again (Imagine walking in on them watching edits of you LMAO, or even you coming over to where they're sitting cause the sound keeps looping and it's obvious that they're watching the same video straight)

- Let's talk about the clothing situation here

* With Vox's freaky ass wanting to keep you close always, it's probably led him to steal your underwear, and might even wear it, but you'll never know. I can also see Val doing the same thing but being hella more shameless, enough to even show YOU that he's wearing them and if you want them back, you better take it off of him

* Velvette probably has taken more comfier clothes, things you would wear for staying in, like old shirts, band tees, or shirts that are well loved

* Valentino has tried, and failed, to return some of the clothes he took. It's kinda hard to take those clothes back considering they look more like rags with how many holes and substances covering it.

- With a built dom

* Velvette will "off-handedly" mention about creating clothes that cater to more muscle-y/bigger builds, and will insist that she needs you to model/do photoshoots for her (she's definitely not using this opportunity just to have more photos of you flexing in HD)

* Vox will 100% build you a personal gym in the tower, but said gym will be covered in cameras/cctvs, all pointed in different directions

* Val would ask you to train his actors, and he will watch supervise said sessions, just to make sure the actors do right (which is totally not a reason for him to watch you flex on his workers)

* Obsessed with pinning Vox to the bed, I bet he'd find it so fucking hot that everytime he tries to close his legs, we just pry them open.

- i know I've talked about punishments, but what about rewards??

* Letting Vox cum as much as he wants (though by the end of it, Vox might start to wonder if it's more of a punishment instead of a reward)

* Willingly let Velvette mess around with some of your clothes/putting you in different fashion designs/putting makeup on your face

* Dare I say even let Valentino call SOME shots during sex, again, SOME shots (do remind him that even if he tops you, he's still your bitch)

- Also rotting in my brain regarding these whores:

* what if you were more powerful in terms of magic/connections/influence/money? (I just know my problems would simply ✨ disappear ✨ if I had a muscle mommy/daddy)

* what if they met you via social media and they immediately hivemind that "yes, this is my dom, right here" ? Like let's say you're an entertainer/dancer right, and one of your viral vids had been a dance to don't go insane (it's the belt dance, boo if you're curious)

* Being in the limelight also means being in the subjective eyes of everyone, and I know for a fact that the Vees have a lot of haters/threats, but what if you protect them from it (bodyguard scenario????)

* ----------- * ----------- *

I forgot to say this during my last ramble, but, If I may, I would love to absolutely read one of your takes regarding my sub!val ideas, but only if you want to/feel for it.

Btw, on a totally unrelated sidenote, I know the blog is primarily hazbin hotel, but I gotta ask, how we feeling about Arcane Sevika?? Cause I am feeling a lot (missing my muscle mommy as fuck bro)

Anywaaays, have a good day!

xoxoxoxo ❤️

This has been in my drafts for almost ALL WEEK and i’m finally coherent enough to give my thoughts!

Can I just say how much I love the Vees with a well built reader. Like I have no real character study-ish explanation for why in my brain i’m like “they’d be obsessed with that.” But I know for a fact it’s absolutely true.

I’m going to focus on your little side notes at the bottom though. So if they met you through social media I feel like you would definitely start off knowing Velvette first. But even before they start talking to you they would absolutely stalk your page and send fucking edits or something back and forth.

But the Vees with a very powerful reader is very interesting to me. Because like while yes, they’d love to be totally on top of hell, but it’s very convenient for them, and hot and hot and hot, to have your support. Because like super powerful big scary respected dom privilege mixed with their constant self entitlement and attitude? And if anyone says anything about it you fucking destroy their status, business, or hell, even them simply because you can. “Do you think you’ll kill for me one day?” “Yes, of course I will, my love” TYPE BEAT AHHH.

And that leads us to the bodyguard idea because jesus christ. Like this is literally such a mix of the well built buff reader and powerful one I just talked about. Also they would argue for your attention 1000% worse in this case.

ALSO CAN I JUST SAY, YOUR SUCH A BASTARD FOR LITERALLY BEING 🍆 ANON. you’re literally DICK ANON. are you proud 🤨🤨

[shaynawrites23]

For your 200 follower celebration!

💋: I'd like one with with Sirius black! And the number... 58!!!

Congratulations to you on hitting 200! That ought to be a big achievement! I love your work BTW! Keep going!

Show Me

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Prompt: moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed

Word count: 678

Warning: suggestive content, implied smut

A/N: im sorry this has been sitting in my inbox forever 😅 trying to stretch my writing muscles by doing a few blurbs before i write the longer requests, thought i'd clear out my inbox while im at it! whoever you are, anon, i thank you for the support and i hope you enjoy the drabble if you see this!

It started as a date. You haven't seen your boyfriend in some time, and the moment your schedules aligned, Sirius declared in his usual fashion that he was taking you out on a date.

In hindsight, you should have known it would end this way, and... maybe you wanted it to. You're dressed in the outfit he loves so much on you, smiled so innocently at him when he came to pick you up and ignored the way his breath hitched the moment he laid eyes on you. Or... well, Sirius believes you're only pretending not to notice.

He hasn't been able to keep his hands off of you all evening. A hand on your back, fingers tracing shapes on your thigh before he forces himself to let up on you slightly, hand reaching for yours, stealing a kiss every chance he gets... even as you leave, he has an arm around your waist, holding you close, smudging a kiss to your hairline paired with softly murmured words you don't catch.

And now...

Now, his lips are on yours before you've even entered your apartment; you're still blindly fumbling for your keys and have to push him away, just for a moment, else you're sure you'll be standing outside all night. He looks confused for a moment, and hurt, but then you're flinging the door open, tugging him inside with you by his belt loops, and the pieces click.

He kicks the door shut with his foot. You barely have time to register the dull slam of the wood before he's pulling you into him—or maybe you're dragging him closer by your hand on his collar—and he's groaning out a "fuck, so fuckin' pretty, darlin', my gorgeous girl-" before your mouths meet again, hot and greedy and wanting.

Sirius backs you up as he kisses you, strong hand gripping your hip. He knows the layout of your apartment well, too well for the way he bumps you against the corner of the dining table to be anything but carelessness. To his credit, he apologizes when you wince, hand moving to soothe the sore spot, but you've already forgotten about the incident, too lost in the way he's kissing you.

God, how you love his kisses. He has a way of kissing you so sweetly, moreso than you expected of a man like him, and that sweetness isn't lost even as his kisses turn deeper, hungry and impatient. Sirius kisses you like he wants you, like you're special, makes you feel like you're valuable, like you're worth it, and... and of course he does, you're all those things to him-

You're not given time to dwell on it, though, not with the way he's filling every corner of your mind. Sirius has quite the personality, too much for some, but you love him all the more for who he is. And right now, he's your breathtakingly handsome boyfriend who's leaning over you, pressing you onto your bed as he settles between your legs, and now your breath is catching in your throat.

"Merlin, look at you. My stunning girlfriend. Most attractive woman I've ever seen," he breathes when he pulls back to simultaneously catch his breath and admire you. You look like a work or art to him, a goddess, with tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips, panting and reaching for him like you miss him even though he's right there. He obliges, his weight pressing you further into the mattress as his teeth graze your pulse, his mouth kissing its way back up to yours. "Bet you did in on purpose, tryin' to test my restraint... darlin', don't you know what uou do to me when you dress up all pretty like that?"

Breathless and not about to admit you chose your outfit with him in mind, though you're certain he knows, you only shrug, and you feel his lips quirk into a smirk just under your jaw.

"Oh, gorgeous, I'm gonna show you just what it does to me."

That he certainly did.

[levi501ackerman]

Object of Affection | Levi x Reader Fluff

masterlist

Summary: Some may think Levi is whipped or your servant. But acts of service is how Levi shows his love

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: song correlated: Ridin' by ASAP Rocky ft. Lana Del Rey. btw whenever I say song correlated I dont mean it with the intention to offer to listen to it while reading. It was just the song that inspired the idea or that was on loop while writing. posted: 4/18/24. I'm really glad AOT has sparked me to write again. I need more practice lol. Enjoy.

Eren, Jean, and Armin were the first of your friends to be sitting at breakfast in the dining hall. Sasha was in one of the lines to get food. It was a sunny day and a few ODM drills were available for whoever wanted the practice. Some other classes were going on as well. It was a general casual day for the scouts. For some scout units, there was food preparation for future expeditions, but for you and your friends, you did not have much on the agenda. 

“I think I’m going to do some drills today,” Eren said. “Are you going to join us?” He asked Armin who usually went to Erwin’s office.

“Yeah, I can. I finished the little project with Commander Erwin.” He said then took a bite of his bread. Sasha hurried to the table to sit down. Her plate had a bigger portion than everyone else at the table. “It is a nice day outside too.”

More people started entering the dining area. The morning crowd of scouts was starting to pick up. Jean noticed you and Levi walked through the door.

“Y/N’s coming. Maybe she’ll practice with us,” Jean said. The table noticed Levi say something to you and then you smiled and started going towards them. 

“I don’t know she’s been spending a lot of time with Hange and Moblit doing research and testing theories,” Eren said. 

“Morning guys!” Sasha brightly greeted the table. The line for breakfast was moving a little slower with the incoming scouts. Everyone acknowledged Sasha.

“Sasha, are you going to do drills today? We’re all going to.” Armin asked invitingly. 

“Yeah, and I think Y/N was thinking about it too,” Sasha said. You approached the table and smiled at your friends. 

“Are you not going to eat?” Jean asked.

“Levi’s getting my food.” You said. They look over to see Levi's arms crossed standing in line with the scouts. 

“Why don’t you get your food yourself?” Eren asked

“Levi knows I don’t like standing in lines so he just said he’ll start getting my food.” You said. Jean and Eren laughed. 

“Wow if only I could have the captain serve me food.” Jean joked and you rolled your eyes with a smile on your face.

“He’s not serving me, he just knows I don’t like standing in lines so he offered to get my food from now on.”

“What if he gets you the wrong food?” Eren asked.

“Well Levi knows what I like,” you said. 

“We’re going to do drills today, you should come,” Armin said. Most of your free time has been spent with Hange and Moblit. You looked up to Hange and she liked you. You enjoyed working with her and in general learning more about the titans. 

“Yeah, I’ll come.” You said and your friends were elated you were joining them. “Ugh wait! I forgot my belt and some straps in my room.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s such a nice day out for drills too. Hopefully, it won’t get hotter.”

A few minutes later, Levi put a plate of breakfast in front of you. He softly smiled.

“Do you want water or tea?” Levi asked.

“Water please.” You said and then he walked away. 

“Yeah sounds like a server to me,” Jean said.

“Stop it, Jean. He’s not serving me. When you get a girlfriend you’ll understand that you’ll want to help her and make her feel like she doesn’t need to worry about anything.” You said back.

“I feel sorry for whoever decides to date you, Jean,” Sasha said with a full mouth and you both giggled.

“Whatever I am a catch,” Jean said. Levi came back with water for you and some tea for himself. 

“I have a meeting I’m going to go to now,” Levi said to you. The table greeted Captain Levi and he acknowledged them normally. 

“I’m going to do drills today with my friends.” You said to him. 

“Nice weather for that today.”

“Yeah, but, I left my belt in my room—”

“I can go get it.” Levi offered.

“Thank you that would be really helpful.” You said and he left for his meeting. 

“Y/N’s has him whipped,” Jean said. 

Truly you did. Levi wanted to help you in any way he could. On the last expedition, he made sure you had your own food to take of yourself. Levi always triple-checked that your gear was in top shape. If you mentioned something was sore, he would offer his best to massage you. If you mentioned anything that inconvenienced you he would do his best to find a way to fix it for you. You once mentioned that the drawer to your nightstand kept getting stuck halfway when pulling it out and you would have to tug hard to get it to keep pulling out. Later that day he took apart your nightstand to fix the sliding drawer. All of a sudden it was working and you didn’t think about it anymore. You didn’t even know Levi fixed it until a week later. 

Once, when you and Levi passed by a stationary shop, you mentioned how you have been journaling since you were young. You had eight journals and mentioned a slight fear that they would end up getting damaged or burned in a fire. You treasured your journals that were filled with your memories. He later got you a small perfect-sized fire box that you could keep your journals safe in. 

You and Sasha met up with Mikasa and decided to be grouped for the drills. It was getting a little warmer than expected. But there was still a slight breeze. You three started stretching and getting your gear together. Then you noticed Levi walking up to you with the belt and straps you needed. 

“I got the belt you needed,” Levi said and your heart fluttered. It was so sweet how helpful he’s always been. 

“Thank you,” You said. 

“You look really pretty,” He said and you blushed a little.

“I’m about to get really sweaty.” You laughed.

“It’s starting to get hotter.” He said squinting and looking up at the sky. “Show the dummy titans no mercy.” He said and you smiled while watching him walk off. 

“You two are so freaking cute!” Sasha said making you blush more. “I’m so excited for when I get a boyfriend and we can go on double dates!” That did excite you and you smiled.

“I can’t wait to meet the guy who deserves you.” You said while putting on your belt and straps. “A guy that’s sweet.”

“I think you need someone who loves meat just as much as you do,” Mikasa said. “Or someone who can cook—” Sasha squealed.

“Oh my god that would be perfect!” 

“That would be the perfect guy for you,” you said.

“You guys want to compete for the most kills?” Jean called out in the distance. Connie was now with him, Eren, and Armin. 

“Mikasa is going to win! Back out now while you can!” You yelled back. The drills began. “Mikasa you should give him a head start!” You said and Sasha laughed. Though it was spring and getting greener outside the temperature got hot while everyone was doing drills. It was an unexpected rise. You pulled at your shirt trying to get ventilation whenever you had the time to do so. The heat made everyone work harder because flying in the air gave everyone a slight breeze. After the drills, everyone was sweating. It was a good workout but people were getting tired quicker because of the heat. When walking back to your stuff Sasha was giving Jean crap about Mikasa beating him. It wasn’t a surprise but the competition did make Jean work harder. Jean was a great scout and even gave you some helpful pointers with the ODM gear. Out of everyone doing the drills, he got the second-highest kill count right behind Mikasa. As you approached your stuff you noticed three water bottles that were perspirating because of the heat. 

“Is this not where we put our stuff?” Sasha asked. But then she saw her bag and Mikasa saw her stuff. 

“Whose water bottles are these?” Mikasa asked. You noticed the drenched little note under the water bottle closest to your stuff. The note read: I noticed you guys didn’t have water. Stay hydrated. 

“They’re from Levi. He got us water because he saw we didn’t have any.” You said and Sasha started chugging hers.

“That’s considerate of him,” Mikasa said and the three of you started chugging the cold water. 

“Thanks, Levi it hit the spot!” Sasha said and crinkled her empty bottle. 

“I need to change, I’m so sweaty and probably smell bad.” You said. Many scouts who did drills all had the same idea to take cold rinse-off showers. No one was expecting a spike in the temperature. When you got back to your room with Sasha. You noticed another water bottle and a note near your bed. It was from Levi again. Come to my office for dinner. You smiled and told Sasha. Your heart fluttered because he was so sweet and no one else saw this side of him. He used to be so shy in front of you and you used to think he didn’t like you. Levi would be his normal self to everyone but then he would be quiet in front of you. It made you feel insecure until Hange exposed Levi. She and Moblit told you that Levi talked a lot about you and wanted to get to know you. Hange may have been the one to tell you that Levi thought you were pretty. Which gave you the confidence to approach him.

In the evening you went to Levi’s room, and you were ready for some alone time. When you knocked on the door, Levi opened it pretty quickly. He shut the door behind you and embraced you in a big hug. He smelled nice and then you noticed the smell of his office. 

“Sit down I made us some soup.” He said. “I saw they had that bean mixture you don’t like for dinner.” Your heart fluttered and the soup smelled good. The smell made you hungrier than you were before. “I got some bread and mashed potatoes though to fill you up more. You need the energy from being outside most of the day.” He said.

“Thank you, Levi,” You said grateful for how thoughtful he is. It was so nice how much he tried to help you or thought of ways to make your life easier. 

“Anything for you, Y/N,” He said and you two began eating. The soup was satisfying and Levi getting bread for it was a good idea. Honestly, Levi did a lot for you because he cared for you so much. He had little to no dating experience before you and he did not want to do anything to make you feel like he didn’t respect you. Levi has always been considerate of you since you started getting close and dating. He would listen you to and remember little things about you. You felt cared for and though you and Levi haven’t told one another that you loved each other. You already knew.

[mana-jjk]

toge and yuuta started holding hands long before they started dating

it was probably just a casual touch that made yuuta aware of it, fixing his form on a sign, bandaging a cut on his finger, fixing the scarf around his neck, just a brush of cold skin against his own clammy, flustered form.

endearing icicles for his fingers, a teasing look on his placid face when yuuta yelped like a kicked puppy. ready to pull away, satisfied with the small reaction he earned.

yet it’s instinct in the way yuuta’s warm hands clamp over his, eyes wide and so genuine it hurts. blowing on his hand shakily, rubbing his palm as if trying to strike a match.

“wh-why didn’t you t-tell me you were so c-cold?” he’d demand in the least demanding voice, always so passionate yet never with the backbone to truly assert himself, “didn’t y-you tell me not t-to suffer a-alone?

it’s an extreme reaction, extreme examples are the only way a lonely teen can communicate, but it’s enough to still toge in place.

the truth was that he never thought to let it bother him. he was always more tired, sluggish, and susceptible to cold than his classmates. even used to struggle with fainting spells from his anemia, it wasn’t something to be upset over. it just was.

“i d-don’t mind,” yuuta would say with that pathetic smile, as if his mere presence didn’t turn toge’s world on it’s head, again and again, “i’ve always r-run a little w-warmer than everyone e-else.”

he curls his hand around his, thick with callouses and still only slightly larger than his own. it’s a little awkward, feels unnatural, and yuuta’s hand is clammy in a slightly gross way. but it’s warm and he doesn’t want to let go.

he doesn’t have the words to thank him, or even to swat his attention away, nonsense words and the subtle flush of pink across his barely exposed ears.

a few days later, toge tries to call his bluff by sticking his toes under his exposed thighs.

yuuta chokes on his spit and whips his head around, before clutching his ankles and dragging him closer. he grabs his hands, making a noise akin to revelation, and squeezes feeling back into them.

toge would almost be on his lap, if not for his tucked feet and bunched knees, his hands clutched to yuuta’s chest and trying not to burn tomato red.

after that, it’s natural.

toge slips his hand into his sometimes, other times a cold breeze is enough for yuuta to grab his.

eventually, his hands become more confident, less sweaty and softer. toge pretends he doesn’t see the hand lotion he carries, the handkerchief he uses to wipe his hands before grabbing his, and even an antiperspirant.

it’s as everything else yuuta does, wholly and completely devoted.

when he leaves, toge has to get used to losing his favorite heater. panda and yuuji are both more than willing to engage in physical contact, but it’s not the same. somehow, the cold chips away at him more than it ever has before.

then yuuta comes back, and if toge thought he was unnaturally confident before, he just about goes into shock the first time he drags him by the loop of his belt to grab his hands.

shameless devotion describes him to a T. practically suffocating him in the way he wraps his entire self, practically fused at their hands, actually pulling him to sit on his lap with zero regard for the noises of disgust.

they are sickeningly in love and shameless thank you for coming to my ted talk !

btw toge’s nose gets cold and it reminds yuuta of a cat and his favorite pastime to press a small kiss on it and toge flusters so bad he looks like he caught a case of frostbite

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

drabble of sub!robert fischer? i love ur work btw!!

thank u so much for ur sweet praise!! u guys are srsly so kind🫶🥹

“Robby,” You purred, setting down your weighted fountain pen on your sandalwood executive desk. “What’s got you sneaking ‘round these parts?”

Robert rolled his eyes, “This venture is purely professional, I assure you.”

“You’re no fun, honey. Now, c’mere, tell me what you’re comin’ to beg for.” You pouted, crossing your legs and beckoning him closer with your index finger. 

His jaw clenched, obviously affected by your belittling words— but he was also not in any position to snap at you. “I’ve come here to introduce a business proposition to you. As you know, I’ve taken over Fischer Morrow after my father passed, and I’ve decided to—“

“Split up the company,” you grinned, getting up from your leather chair and rounding the table to meet him. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Robby.”

Robert’s gaze followed your fingers, which danced across his chest for a moment, before tugging roughly at his lapels and flattening the slightly wrinkled fabric. “My point here,” he sighed, “is that I don’t want Proclus Global buying anything remotely Fischer Morrow. My only option — and my very last resort, is you.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “You are coming to beg.” You then ran a hand through his hair, offhandedly mumbling to him that it looked better that way, “Robby, honey, you know just as well as I, what you gotta do to make me say yes.”

Robert’s gaze tore away from yours, expression contorting incredulously. “I’m not going to— that was when we were dating,” he hissed, but didn’t flinch away when your hands snaked across his waist, sneaking your fingers into the loops of his belt. 

“Well, then, I guess Saito’ll be visiting you tomorrow morning to get ownership affairs all in order,” you informed sarcastically, pulling your hands off of him. 

Robert bit his lip, breathy and exasperated with your demands, and you could only smile: the way he looked now, puffy lipped, cheeks pink, hair disheveled and unable to respond reminded you of the fun you two got up to back when you were younger, before you’d started your business, before Robert played a major hand in his fathers. 

“Fine,” he mumbled quietly, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment; how stark of a contrast it was to the man he was at work, to how he was with you. 

“What’s that?” You teased, pulling his chest flush against yours with his silk tie. 

“You heard me the first time,” he growled, losing his patience. 

You raised a brow, “Looks like someone’s gotten naughty when Mistress wasn’t around to play.”

Robert gulped, your self-imposed title being used making his muscle memory activate. He’d hadn’t heard you refer to yourself that way in years, and it suddenly made him feel stuffy, like his tie was too tight and his pants were too small. 

Your hand then thrust forward to cup his crotch, palming his cock through the cashmere. When he didn’t speak, you frowned. “C’mon, honey. Beg for it. You don’t expect me to do everything for you, do you?”

He groaned - a small, barely audible one, but a groan nonetheless, before complying with your demands. “Please- take me, Mistress. Take me and -- buy out Fischer Morrow.”

You grinned. “There we go. I knew you still had those pretty manners in you.” With that, you dragged him to your office chair, pushing him onto it gently and spreading his legs. 

You undid his belt buckle and fly, relishing the way his breath hitched when your cold hands touched him— he flinched, but his cock sprung to life in his boxers, and grew painfully solid when you slipped his underwear down and pulled it out.

You hiked your pencil skirt up to your soft thighs, sliding down your panties and promptly balling them up, shoving them in his mouth and pressing a teasing kiss to his temple. You then backed up on Robert’s cock, still facing forward toward your desk, and situated his aching tip with your soaking slit, before sliding down. 

A hiss left you as you did so, but Robert merely huffed through the fabric of your lace panties, clearly fighting back those pathetic moans you always used to hear come out of him without a second thought.

“Now, honey,” you panted, blinking rapidly as you felt your walls adjust around his pulsing length, “be good for Mistress, and don’t move. I’ve still got some work to finish up, but I know your needy cock needs me now.”

Then, you heard really Robert groan, this time in dismay rather than reluctant pleasure, unable to protest against you nor the fabric muffling him. God, he’d forgotten how much you enjoyed torturing him… and he could only mentally ready himself for the long, long hours ahead. 

“Be grateful,” you chastised, leaning over slightly to grab a large stack of papers you needed to sign, making Robert whimper at the minuscule movement, just barely stimulating his cock, “‘cause Mistress could be so much meaner.”

[captain-mj]

Can you do another part for alien korangi au? I'm starving 🙏😔 (love ur writing btw❤️)

Part 1 Part 2

Thank you!

Horangi sighed as König left. He really doubted that he'd actually be back. Maybe the next solar cycle of his species when he got horny again. As nice as being swept away sounded, it just didn't actually happen. All kinds of people and non people promised him this.

Horangi checked his debt, seeing the giant chunk taken out of it by König's generous payment. He had tipped heavily, easily paying a month of Horangi's work.

Two months passed. Horangi continued to work as normal. Sometimes, his mind would wander to König again.

The biggest part that he missed was the intimacy of it. König didn't speak the majority of the time but he had pressed into him and held him so tight.

It was a lot better than most of his clients who left him aching and starving for a nice hand through his hair.

Horangi groaned and stretched, back arching. He checked his debt.

5 coins.

5.

Horangi could go outside and ask that of someone.

He quickly went to check who deposited so much money.

Colonel König. As a tip.

Horangi stared at it for a long time.

5 coins.

Someone knocked and he sat up quickly. He scrambled up and got dressed before opening the door.

König.

"Hi."

König didn't speak. His hood kept his face covered. But he did lean down and brush their cheeks together. "My Liebling."

Horangi growled and shoved him before yanking him closer to him by his belt loops. "Not a word for two months!! Not a word! I thought you had given up on me!"

König shook his head. "Worked a bunch of overtime. Was too busy. Also didn't want to waste any money." He yanked him along before making himself calm down and instead gently lead him.

"Why leave 5 coins?" Horangi had none of the same scruples, yanking König to him constantly and making them bumbled around.

"Wanted to pay it in person."

"This is crazy. You get this right? You paid so much money for me. You didn't even purchase me! Just paid off my debt like a crazy person!"

"I could've purchased you?' König sounded rather interested but it was clear he was joking. Especially since he was currently trying to nuzzle back into Horangi.

Horangi hit his ribs and kept following him.

König handed Horangi the money and Horangi paid the last of everything. It was a rather anti climatic. He was just... there. And he was free to leave for once.

König hummed. "Can I have my date now?"

"Gongjunim, you can have whatever you want." Horangi said smiling at him.

They ended up a parlor nearby. It served tons of things, the best being pastries. König paid for everything, insisting on it. Mostly because Horangi had no money.

He watched Horangi eat with a ton of interest. He didn't lift his hood very much so Horangi couldn't return the favor.

König purred happily when Horangi took another bite. "Any plans?"

"Not really. Burned a lot of bridges back home."

"Could get you a job working for me."

Horangi stared at him. This wasn't hesitation. Instead it was introspective. "Am I just going to be your paid secretary that you bang?"

"Mercenary."

Horangi's interest was immediately piqued. "Go on."

"You'd be a merc that I scouted that I bang." König said with a smile in his voice.

Horangi tapped his fingers. "Only when I want it."

König blinked in shock. "That was a question?"

Horangi found something about this man to be very attractive. He wasn't sure what exactly it was, but he did.

Some patrons were watching them with unease. Probably waiting for König to suddenly go crazy. Start eating people like some beast.

Horangi finished eating. "I'll take you up on it. For a little while. Something to get me on my feet yeah?"

König smiled at him. "You'll stay in my home."

Horangi hummed. "You don't have a harem like some of your species does right?"

"No.... If i did, we wouldn't have met. I'm very glad I don't have a harem." König didn't meet his eyes.

"Take me home then."

Horangi was on König's bed and being attacked. König kissed him all over, pulling him in between his thighs. He purred and wiggled, rubbing all over Horangi.

Horangi laid back and let König snuggle him. "My liebling.'' König cooed and put his face in Horangi's neck.

They existed tangled up for quite a while before things dragged König away.

At night, they once again intertwined, being rather insistent about it. They tangled together and kissed.

König's hood ended up on the floor. Horangi held him close and kissed him sweetly.

They started to make love. König was so sweet about it. So nice and sweet. He thrust into him over and over and over again. Driving right into his sweet spot.

Horangi held on and reveled in the pleasure of everything. König kissed him softly, licking into his mouth. "You're so sweet."

Horangi wailed when he came. He couldn't help it.

[mrvlbimbo]

bimbo!reader in her pretty little pink slip dress on, dancing and singing along to madonna’s ‘like a virgin’ to eddie and straddling his lap making him weak on his knees. that man would be a goner

Idk why but I’m imagining this bfore they start officially dating bc I can totally see her using this as a tactic to try and seduce him

This is the dress I was thinking of btw!

<3 so it’s the first time he sleeps over at her place and he’s super super nervous bc he’s never been in a girl’s bedroom much less spent the night

<3 and then she opens the door and greets him and she’s wearing that

<3 he almost creams his jeans right then and there

<3 she ushers him in excitedly, grabbing his hand and in hers tugging him into the house.

<3 “where are your parents?”

<3 “they’re not home tonight.” She gives him a flirty look “so we can be as loud as we want,” she says in a breathy whisper, her hot breath fanning over the skin of his neck.

<3 she’s so innocent in his eyes, she must not realize the implication of what she’s saying so he just tries to brush it off “I uh… do you want to put some music on?”

<3 “ohhhkay silly,” she giggles, stepping closer so she’s pressed to his chest, hands clasping at his shirt.

<3 “I’m silly? You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m silly,” he teases, fingers digging into her waist and tickling her.

<3 “Edssss stoppit!” She laughs, smushing her face against his chest.

<3 he picks her up over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes and totes her around the (rather large) house, trying to find her bedroom so he can set her down and take the strain off his arms

<3 when he finally gets to the room he practically chucks her onto the bed, making quick work of crawling ontop of her and going back to his tickling

<3 “Eddie. Wait wait-“ she gasps, rolling off of the bed to get away from him.

<3 she doesn’t seem harmed, happily bouncing back up and going to turn on the radio

<3 “whatever’s on is fine,” he comments as she turns the dial to flick through the chanels, not bothering to be picky when he wants her back so bad

<3 she turns on the top 100 countdown and slips back into bed with him, sighing happily as she cuddles up to his chest

<3 “that doesn’t look comfy.” She pouts, toying with the belt loops on his jeans

<3 “you want me to take my pants off?“ he asks incredulously, already fumbling with the zipper as her hands try to assist him, brushing every once in a while and sending shivers up his spine

<3 “duh. It’s a sleepover. You’re not going to sleep in jeans are you?”

<3 “no I guess not.” He shrugs, taking off the jeans and his layers of jackets and tossing them on the floor.

<3 once he’s clad in only boxers and a T-shirt he lays back down.

<3 he tries to ignore the way her body feels pressed against him, nervously fiddling with his hands and trying to remember the chords to a song he was working on

<3 she notices his “disinterest” and calls him out on it “Eddddieeee. Cuddle meeee,” she whines, wrapping her arms and legs around him like a koala.

<3 “yeah ok.” His voice is muffled against the top of her head as she squirms around trying to her impossibly closer to him.

<3 after a few minutes of laying there Eddie starts to fall asleep. “Can we order a pizza?” She asks, effectively waking him from his nap.

<3 “mhm,” he mutters, reaching over her to grab the phone on her nightstand

<3 she types in the number for the pizza place and he makes the order, gravely voice slowly listing toppings.

<3 when he hangs up the phone he can tell something is on her mind. “What’s up?” He prompts.

<3 “Eddie don’t make fun of me, ok?”

<3 “never”

<3 “I love this song.” The song playing was Madonna’s Like a Virgin, not something typical to either of their music tastes but nevertheless it was a catchy song.

<3 he chuckles at the idea she thought he’d be mad about that. “Alright then, sing it for me,” he replies, standing up to grab a hairbrush off her dresser and hand it to her as a makeshift microphone.

<3 he sits on the bed and just watches her jump around the room enthusiastically singing along to the music

<3 until the chorus where she comes over and climbs onto the bed to straddle him, turning her little concert into a lap dance

<3 her forehead is pressed against his and her hips are practically grinding down on cock, covered only by thin boxers

<3 she looks back and forth between his eyes and lips, the breath from their open mouths mingling. just as she’s about to kiss him, the doorbell rings.

<3 “pizzas here!” He yelps, grabbing her hips and setting her back on the floor

[daftpatience]

Hi! Would you mind talking a little about how you made your pants? I'm in the same boat of not being able to find tripp pants in my size. I LOVE what you did and definitely want to try making a pair myself but I don't really know where to start

YES i can talk lots about it!! in fact i can draw some about it as well!

i'll put it all under a cut since it's gonna be a Long Post! and heres the pants we are talking abt btw

so i started with 2 pairs of skinny jeans. generally skinny jeans in plus sizes are easier to find because they think we are scared of looking any bigger (and since they're out of style lately you'll likely be able to thrift them very easily, but really any cut of full length jeans will work). the first pair (jeans 1) should fit how you want at the top, but it wasn't as important if the legs or the second pair (jeans 2) fit because we'll be chopping those up.

i cut them into segments as shown, though you could do more or fewer:

then i cut each leg 'ring' that i've made open and laid them all out flat. i also took the pockets off of jeans 2, and set aside the rest for scraps. you'll have something like this:

essentially what i'm going to do is attach 2 legs together to increase the circumference - the reason i cut strips is so i can mix and match colours to make it more interesting and look more intentional! i swapped them around like this:

then i sewed the strips back into 4 leg pieces. keep in mind for this whole project i am sewing with exposed seams to minimize bulk/be comfortable on the inside/look more grungy, so not a lot of this is gonna be turning stuff inside out and i'm actually being a little bit messy with my lines on purpose. i did 2 passes of zigzag stitch right next to each other over every seam for stretch and strength. also, unless you have 2 of the exact same pairs of pants they're probably not gonna perfectly match at the edges, this is okay because we'll be trimming the rough edges next - the top of the leg should match 1/2 the circumference of the legholes of jeans 1 (and if you want to make that circumference bigger you can use a scrap to add a triangle shaped dart to the outside seams of the jeans):

it may feel weird to be removing width when we want them wide, but don't forget we've essentially doubled the width of the entire leg here. i wanted a very straight leg that matched my thigh circumference all the way down, so i pretty much just cut a straight line, but if you have enough material to make it flare out at the bottom and you want to do that, definitely go for it! you could even reattach the leg upside down if the 2 ankles combined happen to be enough to match your thigh, but i liked keeping the original bottom hem on mine so i kept it right side up.

from there i sewed the legs up and attached them back to jeans 1. i did mine so that the checkered seam was in the front but you could rotate them a bit to just have it stripey in the front if you wanted. then I applique'd the extra pockets on. this would probably have been easier to do before sewing the legs fully into a tube, but i wanted to make sure they were placed exactly how i wanted so i had to complete the jeans first to see.

i also sewed 4 tiny loops on the front and backs of the shin area using the belt loops from jeans 2 so i could clip on some lil chains. theres so much more you can do tho!

phew, i think that's everything i did!

if anyone makes a pair of pants with this tut i would LOVE to see!!!!!!!!!!!!

[uncouth-the-fifth]

(you are a) natural, baby - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Virgin!Sam Winchester/AFAB!Reader (vaguely s1 or 2) Tags/Warnings: blowjobs, deepthroating, Impala sex, whiny/submissive Sam (with hints of the opposite). nothing too insane. yk the deal. Word Count: 11034 Notes: hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. i've been. thinking about sam lately. and i MAY or may not have had the most vivid wet dream of my life... which may or may not have inspired this slightly........... enjoy! there will be a sequel btw ;) for plot's sake, yes, Sam is 23 and is still a virgin 🍾 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

You couldn't believe your luck.

You notched the car into park, lips parted in disbelief. Holy shit. Rain bore down on the car from all sides, making an already dark night impossible to walk in, nevermind drive. Baby—or the Impala, you corrected yourself, since Sam always poked fun at you for picking up Dean's little nickname—had puttered out her last huff of warm air a few miles back. That left at least another hour’s worth of driving until you were back to Dean, who was waiting back where your present job was. There was no way you could get back in this weather. It'd be past midnight soon anyway, so…

You played your fingers on the wheel. Bent over it, squinting at the rain. Slumped back in your seat. All the while, Sam watched you go through the motions passively. He already knew what you knew: you'd have to camp here for the night. Just the two of you. Alone.

The universe had done everything short of smashing you together like kissing barbies. In this week alone, the messy line of feelings between you and Sam had been tested at least a hundred times. It was obscene. Ever since Sam's twenty-third birthday, all the forces of nature had woken to remind you at every turn how stupid horny you were for him. Sam was no longer the beanpole you could easily throw while sparring; there was a man in your passenger’s seat, a good deal taller than you on miles and miles of leg, with handsome, veiny arms and a lap made for sitting in. Your childhood crush had been nursed so long that it'd grown into love. But now that you were a twenty-five-year-old, full-time hunter, there was little room for a childhood novelty. You had instead made space for a covetous, needy desire that the universe loved to throw in your face.

Monday. Sam had helped Dean out with one of the less-than-junk cars in Bobby's yard, bent up under the bonnet, sweat and grime making his tee cling to the landscape of his back. And Jesus, what a landscape it was… Sloped and firm with experienced, long-developed muscle. Tuesday. Dean got on the subject of blowjobs, and Sam immediately got off the subject. Significantly, you learned he's never had one. Your mouth watered just sitting next to him. Wednesday. You risked using the last towels in the pile for your shower, each just big enough to close and cover your modesty—if you don’t stand up straight. Sam caught you coming out of said shower. He looked, looked some more, and you sniped at him for it around the saliva building in your mouth. All you wanted to do was claw his jeans around his ankles and blow him until he forgot his name. Sam lingered like he wanted the exact same thing, and both of you pretended to ignore the tent in his pants. Thursday. Sam coached you in long-bowing. You stood just inches apart in an empty field, Sam's shoes between your in the grass, and you fucked up every damn shot because Sam's massive hands were on your waist and your hips and in your belt-loops. He'd lean in until he was almost kissing the shell of your ear and say, S’ alright. Just focus on your footing. You're doing great, even though you hadn't hit a single target. Friday. You, him and Dean left for a North Dakota case. You had to share a bed with one of the boys, and Sam reminded you what sharing meant the whole night, huffing soft moaning breaths against the back of your neck in his sleep.

You resist the urge to clamp your thighs together. It'd been freezing cold in your room and you’d been sharing beds since you were young; to have just your backs pressed together was impressive. At one point, you turned over and Sam stretched back to meet you, his warm spine flush to your chest without hesitation, flaying you instantly. He’d seeped back into the mattress as content as could be. You resisted the urge to run your fingers through his floppy hair, or caress the smooth strip of flesh that the seam of his shirt didn't cover. You failed at the first—but to be fair, Sam's hair was in your face and it was annoying you and you had to be close, because the room was so cold. And your hand just ended up there. And then it ended up under his shirt, your nails stroking his stomach, because Sam was a tease who'd dragged your arm around him in the first place. He'd been shaking, it was so cold. You couldn't just let him freeze. Regardless, it was hard to say no to him when he was smoothing your palm against his ribs like that.

“Think we can make a run to get the blankets from the trunk?” Sam invited. “I can do it if you give me the keys.”

You wanted to say more to that, but you settled instead on taking the keys out of the Impala and dropping them in Sam’s waiting hand. “Thank you,” you murmured, and Sam bobbed his head once before braving the weather.

He was gone for less than a minute, but the clinging silence that rang in your ears could’ve gone on forever. The rain pounded across the car with a vendetta, plunking off the metal and hammering over your empty parking lot just as hard. It raced down the glass fast enough to make the outside world a shimmering blue mirage. Sam’s figure was a darker silhouette closer to the glass, and you busied yourself putting a sweater on as he dove inside.

“Dammit,” Sam cursed. He knew better than to shake his hair out on Dean’s good leather, so he tossed down the blankets in between you—and there was a generous gap—to hunt around the backseat for a towel. The amber streetlights gave you just one glimpse of Sam’s rain-streaked face. It shouldn’t have flushed your belly with want as much as it did, but that’s half the reason you were in this mess.

“S’ bad out there,” you said, obviously. Sam agreed with a hum, and together you sorted yourselves for relaxing before you slept.

Before, you’d had the car on and the heater going, so you were mostly okay with your jackets tossed in the backseat. Sam had on a tee and a moss-colored sweater to keep him warm, and you had the thought of his firm muscle underneath those layers to keep you warm. Though more cold had seeped back into the Impala, you didn’t put on your jacket, toeing off your boots in the footwell. You piled on your blankets and curled up against the seat, Sam doing the same. He hadn’t put his jacket on either.

You shared a glance. Well, it was more like Sam was already looking at you and you caught him, flushing up to your ears. “There’s no way we won’t make it there til morning,” he said, “I’ll text Dean.”

“Good idea,” you agreed. You brought your legs closer to your chest, bumping Sam’s thigh with a stray foot. To your surprise, he glanced up at you at the contact, and again you found one of his coy glances. You couldn’t believe it. Was he...?

All four burners in your body flicked onto a simmer at the same time. You bit your lip, taking him in as he was illuminated by his phone’s screen, wet twisting curls of hair in his eyes. “S’ okay. I don’t think Dean will care, with how slow this case is going. Though I can guess why you’re so eager to get back,” you tested the waters with a sly smile. “That witness—Miss Checknik, she was really aiming to get you alone, huh?”

Sam was still raw from Dean pressing his buttons on this, so he was shier than usual when he mumbled, “It’s… not like that… I’ve never even done that before.”

“What?” you blurted. “Had sex?”

Sam’s gaze snapped up to yours. Around you the rain roared, but you still caught his subtle hitch of breath. His pause went on for another telling amount of time, until Sam’s ears were red too. “...It’s not like you have either,” he muttered.

This had to be on purpose. You tossed an arm over the back of the seat, knuckles against your cheek and a growing, sly smile on your face.

Sam sat up. “You’re kidding. Really?”

You slouched, huffing. “What, is that a surprise or something?”

“No,” Sam spoke a little too quickly, like he’d been thinking about it. He swallowed. “No, not at all. I was just…”

You wet your lips and let your eyes drift over him. Sam sat stiff in your passenger's seat, legs crossed a little too tightly, his hands folded together over his lap, hiding a building, jealous hard-on. A muscle jumped in his neck. The shivery warmth that reigned over you every time Sam entered the room conquered you again, watching him squirm, and you couldn't help but do the math. You could… you could make an offer. If he said no, that was fine. All you’d have to do was endure a night's sleep in the car with him then a few awkward days afterward—but you and Sam had done that dance a hundred times before, after kissing for spin-the-bottle or getting caught lusting after each other, so maybe this was it. This week had been filled with omens.

You went all in.

“We travel a lot and it relieves stress, so… I’ve picked up a few dates. Bar-flings, heat-of-the-moment stuff with hunters, every once in a while.”

You risked a glance at him through your lashes. Sam had inched closer to listen, just enough for you to notice, and was clearly trying to sculpt his face into something less interested—but his eyes were glazed and his attention was rapt. You had him right on the hook.

Sam swallowed. His voice was thick with arousal. “I, um, didn't know that was your thing.”

You shrugged, “I don’t enjoy it as much as Dean does, but yeah. The guys I pick up, I mean—they’re okay. Most can't find their way around a bra, never mind… well, y’know. You get what you can get. But the other parts, the fun parts of sex…” Even you were blushing at how dirty your smile felt. “I'm real lucky, Sam. Most girls don't get off making their partners happy, but I do. It's… made me real good.” You twisted so your chest was pushed toward him, feeling yourself ache in your jeans. You hushed coyly: “I’m told I’m a real natural with my mouth.”

“Really.” Sam repeated. He sputtered out a half-hearted chuckle. His cheeks had gone all cute and ruddy with a blush, exposing the lighter moles on his face.

“Really,” you promised.

The look on Sam's face went beyond teasing, now. You’d told yourself you were just messing around with him, but Sam was twitching in his seat, suddenly unable to sit right, and all the years of play-flirting had apparently stacked too high. Something hot and magnetic had brought you closer and closer together in the Impala’s front seat. Sam was frozen like he wanted to crawl out into the rain and disappear—always so shy, so easy—but something else rooted him to the spot this time. One more motion and you could close that measly gap blazing between you, get his skin pressed firmly to yours. Your arms and back and belly crawled with a phantom itch, and Sam's hands looked so perfect and big that you knew they could fix that feeling. Your mouth felt wet and lonely. Sam's was right there, panting as he waited for you to do something.

“Have you really never had sex before?” You filled Sam's flushed silence. You scrutinized him, brows furrowed with sympathy. “Not even a blowjob?”

Sam's whole body hitched like a slow to start engine at the word. He temporarily forgot himself, choking on his breath and roaming his sweaty palms across his thighs—uncovering, for just an instant, the outline of something firm and big in his jeans.

Still, Sam's eyes couldn't shake yours.

“Um, no,” Sam admitted. “Never had t-the… opportunity, I guess. Or the right person.”

“Would you?” You scrambled to let the words loose, then resettled in your seat, lounging back and stifling your excitement. Sam's dick. Sam's big, virgin dick in your mouth. “If the right person…” you gestured vaguely, like this was still at all a hypothetical, “gave you the opportunity?”

It took Sam a second, eyes flickering fast over your face beneath his bangs, but eventually, he gave a single short nod.

A nuclear reactor’s worth of heat sizzled up from your toes. It bubbled out of you in a pleased, purring sigh, and you could barely suppress your grin, your butterflies, your nervousness, when you crawled into the cold space beside him on the bench. You leaned in slow by his ear. Your nails played across his thudding pulse, his taut neck, spurring Sam’s breaths into gasps. At an agonizing pace, you dragged your soft nails behind his ear, to the tingling nape of Sam's neck, and relished in the feel of his flesh like a vampire as you stroked him there. The blunts of your nails scratched gently at his hairline. Sam squeezed out a soft moaning sigh, so sweet and trusting that you closed your eyes to soak in it all the way.

After a few strokes of your nails to Sam's shivering skin, you fanned your warm breath down his shuddering collar and barely kept yourself from moaning in his ear: “I’m real smart with my mouth, Sammy… I could make your first time good for you. Better n’ good, even.”

He sat there in utter disbelief. Sam breathed hard, and now that your hand was on him, his squirming had stopped. After a deep, weighing pause, Sam removed his hands from his lap and slid them down to his knees instead, tasting the growing appetite in his mouth.

“...What would it feel like?” The rasp in his voice made you instantly wet.

You flushed. “You want me to describe it to you?”

Sam gave a shy shrug of his shoulders, playing innocent, but that clever smile of his had been haunting you all week. He knew precisely what he was doing. “Never had one,” Sam reminded.

The car was suddenly boiling. You had kicked off your blanket a long time ago, and so had Sam, which left you in layers that neither of you wanted anymore.

“Well,” you breathed out, amused. You gave yourself room to undo your coat, and Sam hung on every motion, making each exposed inch of you feel needy and overheated. “I really only know it from the giver's point of view, but, um, it's really fun for guys. I'm sure you've heard other men talk about it before. Unwinds your whole body and blows your mind, done right,” you talked as you shed your coat. “If they made it sound easy to give a good blowjob, Sam—it’s not. You have to know what you're doing, how to read your partner… know what they like… luckily for you,” you hummed, “I've never had a complaint.”

Sam nodded after nearly everything you said, unsure where to settle his hands or what to say. He looked more demure than you’d ever seen him, and it was so cute to you it was almost unbearable. You could imagine him making that exact face at you with his wet dick pushing into the inside of your cheek—all bashful but desperate, hinged on your every word, your every lick. The thought of all the pretty sounds he'd make when you blew him left you on sensory overload, and the only thing that would fix it was Sam kissing you breathless.

It struck you that Sam was really gonna let you do this for him, after years of him caring too much about you to let you take care of him. You were left with a peculiar rush; Sam trusted you.

“Blowjobs are… all the good bits of kissing and jerking off put together,” you explained. You settled back where you’d been before, hanging on Sam's shoulder and talking filthy in his ear as he quivered with want. This time your nails drew circles on his collar, and Sam surprised you by squeezing his hand around your thigh to steady himself. You could've cum on the spot. A flood of heat burned down your gut and throbbed between your legs, soaking your underwear clean through.

You’d never stopped looking at each other, but your faces were closer than ever and the eye contact felt explosive. It was dark but for the streetlight, and quiet but for the endless rain, both aspects of life you saw every day—monsters in the dark and a storm banging on the car. But with Sam there, these everyday mundanes felt… romantic. Passionate, like the movies. His eyes were this beautiful, soft fawn brown. You couldn't wait to see that slip of color admire you from between Sam's thighs.

“The girl, she’ll…” your mouth flooded with drool. “I’ll get down on my knees for you,” you corrected, boldly.

Sam sucked in a shaky breath, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you rasped. “And I'll get nice and comfy there, because I'm gonna waste as much time on you as I can…”

Your hand graduated into his hair again, since Sam forgot how to breathe each time you did it, and with it occupied you lingered on his face. Sam looked piss-drunk with lust; his head was on a swivel, lolling in whatever direction you went, his lashes fluttering low on red-patched cheeks. “I'm gonna take my time getting your pants off, y’know, tickling your legs.” A particularly dirty thought occurred to you, and it must've shown on your face because Sam's parted lips opened further. “Maybe, if you wanted, I could do this little trick I learned with my teeth… open your fly that way. You want that?”

Sam's eyes flicked down to your mouth, thinking. “I do,” he bobbed his head, “I really do.”

“Okay.” You pet Sam's chest, and coupled with the attention of your nails in his hair, a moan seeped out of him, vibrating somewhere deep under your hand. You grinned a shark’s grin. “...Then I'd look at you like that, cause’ that's what I've been dying to do for ages, see you all hard for me and nobody else. You might kill me cause’ you're so beautiful, Sam. And I'd kiss you everywhere I could… all over your thighs, your hips, the muscles in your stomach, your dick… your cock.” A whine jumped out of Sam's throat. Just the word made your throat feel open. “When you're squirming and begging for me to pull you out, I'll take off your boxer briefs, too, the blue ones I know you're wearing—” You’d seen him in them that morning, when he'd crossed his arms and his shirt had rucked up enough to flash some belly. Sam huffed an embarrassed laugh, and you kept going. “I know exactly what I'll do when your boxers are off, cause’ I've been waiting years for it. M’ gonna take your dick in my hand and just admire it, feel how big it is, imagine what it'll be like inside me—” Sam cursed aloud at that, “—inside my warm, wet mouth. I've been imagining what it looks and feels like for so long, Sammy, I think I deserve to see the real deal. Don't you think?”

You ran a finger along Sam's collarbone, and he rolled into it, chasing the slightest touch of your hand regardless if it was on his dick or not. You hadn't even drifted below his belt yet, and Sam was still arching into your touch like it would make him cum. He nodded mindlessly, sweat and rain making his hair cling to his face. “God,” he swore. “You do, ____—you d’serve it so much… so much…”

You cupped Sam's sweaty, tacky jaw, and he sighed like you’d rubbed him through his jeans. You resisted the urge to do just that, asking, “Can I have a kiss, Sammy?”

Sam peeled himself off the seat and rolled into your arms. The hand on your thigh was joined by a second, bracing his huge, sturdy palms on your legs in a way that made you grateful you weren't balancing on them, and with his face nestled in your hands and his eyes all dewy for you, Sam kissed you. You knew that that was it—every time you found your way to a kiss with him, it was the final straw. You loved him. Sam kissed you like he loved you too, pecking you soft and light like you were his dream girl, like he only wanted to treat you gentle, since so often his hands were forced to do the opposite. Quickly, your fingers were in his rain-tangled hair. Sam drew back to groan and then angled his head, pecking you in deep and loving bursts until you were giggling at him. He kissed those giggles too, smiling into his dimples. Sam never failed to make your heart go rabid when he did that, kissing you good; you had seen him kiss other girls before, and he never seemed as skilled or intuitive unless it was with you. Something tirelessly drove him to impress you.

You urged Sam's back flat to the seat again. With your leverage returned, you cupped his neck, then his shoulders, slipping your hands into his shirt, first through his collar and then up his stomach, palms seeking and appreciative. His flesh was warm and his figure was firm or yielding in all the right places. Sometimes, when you sparred and Sam was on top of you, or when you shared beds and his back was pressed to yours, you got glimpses of what Sam felt like. But now that you were free to roam where you pleased, only one signal could make its way through your nervous system: he is so beautiful. You uttered this to him in a frenzy. Sam couldn't get any redder, but you could feel his skin get warmer yourself, could press your hands flat to it and feel the life underneath, which was all the response you needed.

You licked your way into Sam's mouth. He was pliant for you as you did, whole-heartedly enjoying the filthiness of your tongue lapping and sucking at his, even if it was new to him. You laved yours from his bottom lip, across his open, wet mouth and flat against his top lip, prying approving little sounds from him. Butterflies furled and unfurled their wings in your stomach.

When you finally freed yourself, you sucked down breaths open-mouthed and fell back on your haunches.

“That's how it's gonna feel on your cock,” you proclaimed, and swiped a line of spit off his chin.

“Yeah?” Sam panted.

You wormed your fingers under the seam of your tight tee and yanked it over your head, cursing at him in a wrecked whisper. “Yeah. Then I'm gonna put you all the way in my throat, every inch of you, lickin’ and kissin’ all I can get. And when you're ready to cum, m’ gonna play with you, n’ hold you in mouth and make you sit like that.”

Sam mewled, only making your craze to get your pants off even worse. “Why?”

“‘Cause you've tortured me, baby,” you swore. You rocked back onto your tailbone and wormed off your bottoms, sucking back spit at the sight of Sam puppy-dog-eying you and palming his dick—palming his dick because of you, because of your lacy black underwear and how it looked on you. You knew you looked hot. But Sam made you feel it, like you were a Victoria's Secret cover model, like you were the hottest girl he'd ever seen, naked or otherwise. And you were—Sam had never been with anyone else. “Look at me, Sammy. You've tortured me. Made me wait to kiss you and touch you like this for so long, I almost lost my mind. So you're gonna get a taste of your own medicine, just for a bit—and when I think you can't take it anymore, just like me, then I'm gonna let you cum wherever you want. On my face, my tits, on my stomach…” you choked back a wave of unbridled, insatiable want, groaning out, “...in my mouth… inside me...”

The low, guttural noise puttering out of Sam broke. He took you by the underarms and yanked you against him, genuinely hauling you off your ass with a strength you forgot he had, little pants and miserable snarling moans pouring from him. Your mouths slotted together hard and unprettily. It knocked a girlish laugh out of you—when Sam let you breathe between sucking your face off, anyway.

“You like that idea, huh?” You teased.

Sam dropped a hand across your temple. His hand was so big that it could cover the entirety of your face, or perfectly seal over your mouth. In ways no other man had ever done for you, he stroked your hair back all tender just so he could get a look at his girl. You nuzzled into the weight without any mind for where you were going, knowing nothing but Sam’s love and Sam’s chest expanding and shrinking between you.

Those big fawn eyes wondered up at you. “You’d let me do that? Already?”

“I’d let you do anything.” You dropped what remained of your filter. This was truly dumbfounding to him, apparently, because Sam sat there stupidly for a second with his mouth open. He snapped it shut as you neared your faces, making it even easier to press a kiss to the seam of his mouth. “Any other man would take advantage of that chance. M’ not stupid. But you’re the only one I can think of who’d… who’d,” you searched for the words, admiring Sam’s nosebridge with your thumb. He had such pretty moles. “You’d be good to me,” you concluded.

Sam blinked. “...I’d want to be,” he smiled, sounding dulcet. Again, Sam brushed back your hair. “I mean… Anybody who wouldn’t be good to you i-is… is an idiot.”

“Exactly,” you smirked. Slow and sultry, you pressed your nose and lips into the plush of Sam’s cheek and dragged, then a little more, just glimpsing the skin with yours. He was ready and shuddering when your lips were at his ear. “That’s why it’s you I’m thinking about when I’m fingering myself.”

Another weak sound wept out of Sam. Christ, the noises he could make. If your imagination had even come close to the real thing, you would’ve been this dirty-mouthed with him ages ago.

Sam cursed, “Jesus, ____.”

“It’s true.” You pressed this promise with a kiss into his cheek, then again, at his jaw, letting yourself sink into each one with boundless pleasure. Sam melted helplessly against you, ears perked. “Every day. Every time I took a shower, after sharing a bed with you all weekend. I was always soaking wet because of something you’d done hours ago that I just couldn’t shake, hot out of my mind…” you swallowed down another onslaught of drool. “I pictured you having a hard day, y’know, needing something to perk you up. I’d haul your jeans down and lick you all over like an ice cream cone.”

Sam’s whole upper body was blushing so hard now that steam floated off him. “God, me too.”

Your brows raised. “Yeah?”

He nodded himself dizzy. “That same thing. You having a hard day. I’d… I’d…”

You leaned in, blinking in shock. “How did you imagine it?”

“We’d be kissing.” One of his long, too-long-to-be-wasted fingers followed a thread of your panties. “On your bed, the Impala, wherever we could find. I’d lay back and… and you’d crawl on top of me…get your legs around my head—”

Sam’s hot, moist breath tickled your face. So close, with your lips wet from Sam’s kissing already, it was all too easy to follow along with his fantasy. Sitting in his lap in the backseat. Laying him down there, your palms flat and steadying on his chest. Curling your thighs around his face until his nose pressed up into you, then his mouth, slipping open, and his hot, silky tongue taking long drinks of you. The sensory ghost of it alone could’ve made you cum.

You blurted: “You’d eat me out?”

One man-paw of his smoothed down the planes of your back, palming big handfuls of your skin. Now, it was his turn to smile wolfishly. Sam confessed: “I’ve always wanted to.”

The admission temporarily launched you into orbit, and for a long time you hung there, clinging to him by the shirt, dully aware of the rainy smell of him and how hard your cunt was pulsing. Sam. Your Sam, sitting with these thoughts in his head. At the same time that you were pushing your knees together when he sat beside you at the dinner table, Sam was fantasizing about getting between them. The eroticism of it already had you close to edge. Anytime you’d ever been with him, at some point, Sam had to have thought about how his fingers would feel digging into your ass-flesh while he fucked you with his tongue, while you squealed his name, the flat of your toes curled against his shoulders. Uncensored. He could’ve revealed any fantasy on top of that, but he chose this one. The one that had him pleasuring you and fucking loving it. Sam didn’t just want you—he wanted the angle that could get him the most of you, the most exposed and honest position. You fucking loved him.

You were tonguing into his mouth before Sam could finish, both hands in possessive fists around his shirt. Sam started laughing, the asshole, but you persisted, closing him in with passionate dips of your head and kissing him senseless. Your hands feasted on him, clawing into his hair and down the back of his shirt and around again. Nothing was enough. You were convinced you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were Sam, or melded into him somehow, like chocolate chips in a warm pot.

“Thought about… tasting you n’ makin’ you feel good,” Sam hissed. “So good that you’d have’ta put your fist in your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. You’d put your hands in my hair a-and… and… shit, you’d taste so good. I want to taste you so bad, ____. Want you to—” he leached you into a long, surging kiss, purring deep in his throat, “sit on my face.”

You wrestled down a choked whine, which Sam swallowed. Every movement of his mouth went straight to your pussy, echoing there. Sam must’ve known this, because he kissed you exactly as he would between your thighs, all tongue and sucking lips, unbearably hot in comparison to your untouched cunt. You could almost feel the blazing front of his mouth bearing down on you there, his breath fanning over you and his tongue—god, his fucking tongue—flexing into your clit. You broke away.

Sam’s hands hesitated at the top of your back, then all at once took two whole handfuls of your ass, and pushed up with his hips to open your thighs for him. You let slip a helpless moan. His hands were warm and calloused and everywhere, except for the precise place you needed him most. But above all else, Sam was a selfless, loving man, so immediately he was moving to drag down your panties.

“Please,” he choked. “Please, ____, please, I can—I can do it for you—lemme do it for you, baby. Let me take care a’ you.”

“Sam.”

You pressed both palms flat to Sam’s chest in an order. Sam immediately stopped, though he did not look pleased about it. You took a breath to realize the pussy-eating fiend you were soon to have all to yourself, then stepped back to your initial focus. “You’ll have to wait. Want you first, pretty boy. Have you ever even done that before?”

Sam shook his head, sending his bangs fluttering around his face. He pouted. His hands coasted along your arms, dragging you down and into him still.

Bleeding with earnestness, he husked, “No. But I’ll learn for you. I’ll practice on you over and over again, til’ I’m better than anybody you’ve ever had that way. S’ all I want.”

You bit your lip and, god, was it impossible to say no to him.

“I'm all yours, Sammy. Whatever you need, you know I'll give it to you. But we’re gonna do this first, okay?”

You wanted his first time to be good, better than good, all because of you. You wanted to be his second time. His third time too, and every time after that. And if that didn't work out, then you hoped that every time he got a blowjob in the future, it was a good one. Even if it’d be downright pitiful in comparison to the way you were gonna suck his brains out now.

You reached between you and gave Sam's strained cock a generous squeeze.

Sam lost it. “Please, you, please please—” he all but sobbed. His hips rolled up and his knees snapped apart, making room for you, inviting you in, hands making marks on your arm in his scramble for touch. “Please. I-I need it, I need—I need you, god, I want to feel—”

You hung back, absorbing the result of your work. You’d barely touched him and Sam was already out of his mind. He'd had orgasms before—you’d heard him reaching them through the wall in the shower, and his desperate choking breaths were so hot that you had touched yourself right outside the door—but as good as they'd sounded, you were determined to blow them out of the race.

Sam started for his fly, which was your cue to step in. You waved his hands away, guiding them to his stomach, where they fisted in his shirt and drew it up over his sculpted naval. You shushed and soothed, “Sam, Sammy—s’okay, you're okay. I'll take care of you, alright? I'll start right now,” you peppered kisses on his face, bent beside him on your knees. “We gotta get the seat back. Help me?”

You pushed the Impala’s bench back as far as it could go, and you made sure to lay the backrest down a few more inches, too, so Sam could relax and you had a good angle on his face. He was equally considerate and folded up a blanket for you to sit on in the footwell. As soon as Sam sat up, you evaporated into his lap. You expected him to go shy on you again, but this time Sam helped you settle there, clenching his teeth and dragging his eyes up your figure. You stood still for the examination, and the longer it went on the warmer your flaming skin got. Both of Sam’s unreasonably big hands landed on your waist at the same time, and for a moment your roles reversed, Sam’s eyes smoky and heavy-lidded as he devoured the sight of you. You felt yourself throb pathetically in your panties. You were probably the first girl Sam had ever seen intimately; and, in true Sam fashion, he consumed the new sight, cataloging and learning things. A tiny whine slipped out of you when his fingers dug into your thighs, then again when Sam’s thumb brushed under the band of your bra.

“I'm all yours,” you reminded with a smile you hoped was confident. If it was, it was ruined by you shyly and awkwardly reaching for the clasp of your bra. “Whatever you want, Sam, I can do.”

He gazed up at you through his bangs, expression bleeding with love and boyish frankness. “What do you want?”

“To make you happy,” you answered, without question. “To make this night good for you, even if it's the only night we'll have.”

Sam shook his head, absent-minded. A slow, clever, panty-dropping smile developed on his face, something that was clearly common in the men of his family.

“You said that most guys you're with, like this…” he thought aloud. Sam brought you close to him, and when your shadow fell across him and you were nose to nose, he slid two warm fingers up your back and click—he was pulling your brassiere off your shoulders. “You said that most of them can't find a way around a bra, nevermind you,” he observed. “We're going to need more nights if I'm going to prove to you that I'm different.”

“Sam,” you whispered, “you were always different from them.”

You pushed him back against the seat, aligning his spine with it, and as soon as Sam hung his arms over his head you were kissing him wet and deep, both of your hands sliding and groping along the firm muscle of his raised biceps. Now only a flimsy tee stood between them, and you were as rude with it as you were with anything else keeping you from Sam. The long, muscular frame you’d been fantasizing about for years was exposed to you now, and you wasted no time getting acquainted with it. Only recently had Sam started to linger in wet t-shirts in front of you or guide your hands under his shirt as you cuddled—for longer, you’d had no clue what he looked like under his clothes. Dean got all the credit for being John's perfect hunter, but Sam had the perfect hunter's body, barrel-chested huge and wood-shattering strong.

You sunk onto your hands and knees, palming him, groping him, caressing him, outlining the lines of his muscles and his ribs with your fingers. Nobody could resist the temptation to kiss him all over, and in all fairness, you had promised. You dragged your mouth down Sam's chest, kissing the center seam of his body to his happy trail. You almost lost yourself pleasuring him this way; at the sound of Sam's deep breathing, you endured, hovering over your prize instead. You knew you must've looked beyond turned on: your dark eyes were wild, dilated and glittering with want, your panties were soaked through and your lip was almost bleeding you were biting it so hard.

“Fuck,” you cursed, settled back on Sam's thighs, “I've wanted to blow you stupid for years, Sam… it didn't matter what you looked like underneath here or not… but fuck, I feel like a schoolgirl, drooling over all these muscles. You used to be so lanky.”

“Hard to be healthy on the road,” Sam flushed. “We're fighting monsters every day, it’d be stupid to die to a heart condition…or… something.”

“Yeah,” you groaned before you could contain yourself, “but you're sure not making this crush I have on you any easier.”

Sam whispered, sounding coy as he plucked the waistband of your panties. There was that dimply smile again. “You got a crush on me, pretty girl?”

The next words poured out of you as sensually and devoutly as you felt them: “Yeah,” slow, you dismounted his thighs, folded your legs in between Sam's, and finally, finally, sunk on your shins into the footwell. “You wanna see what I do for the men I crush on, baby?”

“So bad. So damn bad,” Sam begged, and it was surreal to finally see what he looked like from this angle, since you’d been dreaming of it for so long. His head lolled back and all you could see of him was the sexy column of his throat and all the soft red lines you’d put in his skin there, just bright enough to see. His chin lowered so Sam could look at you, and sweet lord—there were those fawn brown eyes, drowning in the darkness and the black of his lashes. They boiled over with devotion and willingness and thirst, teased for far too long now. You almost felt bad enough to cut him some slack. But now you were here, with Sam's cock just inches from where it should be, and you couldn't just start going easy on him.

You did exactly what you said you would, so Sam knew what was coming. As promised, you hunkered down on the blanket Sam had folded, letting your knees settle comfortably on the floor. Then you started in on him. You played your nails across his legs, stroking the sides of his thighs, feeling how his pants clung to his skin. On his lap, it was impossible not to fantasize about Sam sitting you on one of his legs and inviting you to rut across his solid, powerful jean-clad thigh. It took a lot to make you feel tiny—but Sam did just that. Crouched down at his feet like this, Sam only seemed bigger and his body better built than usual. You pressed your cheek against his inner thigh and just basked in him.

Sam writhed having you so close to the source of his suffering. “Please,” he sighed below his breath.

“Please what?” You grinned, wolfish.

You turned inwards and kissed the inner seam of Sam's jeans, right on the denim path to his aching cock. Just inches from your face, angled down Sam's pantleg, was a heavy, massive tent more than the width of both your hands put together. Fuck, it'd been even longer since your last good blowjob than you’d thought it'd been. Just seeing the outline made your cunt pulse. Pressing your kiss-swollen lips to the denim above the head bolted molten hot desire straight to your core, and for Sam it was no less extreme, his hands curling into fists on his chest.

His eyes squeezed shut, and the little hoarse squeak that left him made you forget your gag reflex entirely. Sam moaned, “Please please please put me in your mouth—____, p-please.”

“I think you're a little ahead of me, Sammy…”

Your voice dripped with liquid sex. You steadied your hands on Sam's knees and bent forward again, nuzzling his cock with your nose and cheeks, glittering obsidian eyes devouring Sam's softest reactions. He was sensitive—even more sensitive than you’d been hoping for. Just the tiniest lick through scratchy fabric had his toes curling. Again, your nails scraped down his thighs. This time you leaned forward as the gesture drew back, bringing you up to Sam's happy trail. And man, happy it was–it was the centerpiece for miles of twitching, gleaming, sweaty muscle, soft-blended abs, hard-cut v-lines and all.

“Let's start by getting these tight, constricting pants off your first.” you smirked. “How does that sound? You must be uncomfortable, Sammy.”

He was, to the point that just the thought of getting them off had his hips arching toward you on the seat. Pitifully, Sam pleaded, “____. C'mon. Anything.”

“S’okay…” you whispered. You kissed the button of his jeans. “I'll get it off and you'll feel so good, darlin…”

Sam watched you from over his heaving chest, so hard that he was delirious, quavering miserably when your touch disappeared. His soft desperate gasps reminded you of the noises he made when he had dirty dreams sleeping next to you. The few times it'd happened, you just endured it until you drifted off to fatally horny sleep. But once it'd been your name he was sighing like that. It took every ounce of strength you had not to roll over and jerk him off right there. The scene was so vivid it was painful, and you could easily imagine yourself cuddling up to his back and stroking him sweet and slow half-out of his pajama pants, your cheek to his shoulder. Or even better, crawling under your shared sheets and deepthroating him awake. You wondered if Sam had ever heard the dreams you had of him. Or how many times you’d fucked yourself in the shower, imagining him reaming you into the tile like an animal. You had never dreamt of another man that way, or loved a different one so terribly that it made you reckless.

Sam watched you with wide, long-lashed eyes. Nobody else could look so innocent watching somebody get ready to suck their dick. Every time you glanced past his chest, you expected the perverted revelry you got from your other partners to reveal itself on his face. But, god. Sam. He basked in you, in your touch, arching up to meet your hands and worshipping your with his gaze. Love downpoured from every molecule of him. All his reserve had shredded away, taking any reason he had to hide right along with it. I love you I love you I love you, his body wept.

The second you got the fabric corner of his jean-opening in your teeth, Sam’s lips parted, and you remembered all the times you’d tie cherry stems in your mouth to impress him—how many popsicles you’d enjoyed all too slowly and vocally while Sam was watching. It took just one pull of your chin and his fly was off the button. One more and his zipper was in your teeth. You dragged down your head, sultry eyes never leaving his even when you got his fly open, and soaked up the look on Sam's face as he realized the kind of professional he was dealing with.

“...Wow,” Sam gaped. I've hit the jackpot, his wide eyes said.

“Up,” you instructed, and let your grin say the rest. Excitement was burning between your legs now. You tugged on his belt loops until Sam raised his hips, giving you the room to pile them around his ankles.

When you brought your eyes back up, your breath caught. Sam was hard enough to crack steel. You couldn't believe your own luck here. The boy you’d been head over heels for since before you could speak, the man you’d devoted half your life to, and he was so hot for you that he could hardly breathe.

“You don't know how long I've been fantasizing about this.” Your voice was almost too hoarse to hear over the rain, a prayer's voice. You drew yourself between Sam's thighs, and shaking from head to toe with hunger, you spread both palms over his hips and dragged your mouth up Sam's length in his boxers.

Sam had already given himself up to the pleasure. His nails seared into the upholstery, and he moaned, rocketing up, off his back, rocking into you already. The neediness of it burst another tank of heat and love and lust inside you—your Sam, above you, about to be yours, begging so pretty for you… Fuck, heaven would be boring in comparison.

“____, please, baby, please I need it,” he almost sobbed, “I'll do anything anything ____ I ju-just, I just want you. I want your mouth on me I wanna—god, please ____, how good you feel, I want it, please—”

“Anything you want, Sammy, you can have anything,” you soothed, muffled and slurred by your dragging kisses.

“M’ all yours, all yours, all this cock just for you, g-god yeah—your mouth ____ please I need your mouth—”

There was so much drool built up under your tongue that you had to swallow to speak—but you decided against it, saving it for your prize instead. You couldn't wait a second more. You were hooking your fingers in Sam's briefs before you could second-guess, before you could even think to judge if you should unravel Sam a little more—but he was there, bucking for you already, so there was no use waiting. He couldn't even lift his hips before you’d yanked his boxers out of the way. You felt him in your hand and all of it—the length of his cock, the weight of it, the fact that it was Sam, had you sinking into his lap like a priest into a sermon, flesh into the earth, and instantly you threw yourself into the task like you’d never done for any other man. This was for Sam.

You took in just a bit of him at first, enough to introduce him to the hot, velvety heat of your mouth and wet him with a single good suck. Sam's sob cut off with his breath. He was careful to treat you right, even like this. One of his hands had startled into your hair, the pleasure was so much for him. It never did anything more than jolt—he wasn't the type to just shove you on him, anyway. Your smile felt obscene with your lips slick and swollen around him; your tongue gave the lightest lap at the special spot under his tip, and Sam strangled down a filthy, whining mewl. His head was plump and comfortable on your jaw, so you gave it your first dose of attention, loosening your seal around it so you could share your drool with the rest of him. You hollowed your cheeks and brought him a little further into your mouth, shattering what remained of Sam's strength. He sunk back against the seat, exhausted, and watched you bracingly from above, sucking down breaths. Already, there was enough spit on him to make Sam's cock gleam like your lips. It clung to your chin and the tip of your nose in shining patches. Sam ran a hand through his hair and lazily studied you as you sucked him off, falling further in love with you by the second.

“That's it,” Sam cooed. He sounded broken and thready, but he insisted on curling your hair around his fingers, dizzy. “So good, ____—suck it, just like that, please, baby, j-just… ohh, fuckkk…”

Suck it, he'd said. You did as told. The command vibrated through your whole overshot body, and your throbbing, weeping cunt only felt emptier hearing the order. Sam filled up your mouth so well that your cheeks were puffy. He was the perfect size for you—a damn perfect masterpiece. His girth sat thick in your hands, veiny in ways that you wanted to feel with your pussy. Oral had always been enough before, but already you wanted Sam more than air, and more than that, wanted to blow him so good that he'd reward you for it. You tested out a few lower bobs, his cock slick and sticky between your fingers now, and every time you suckled on him Sam squeezed his eyes shut all pretty. The rain was dying out, so the liquid noise your lips made on him filled every crevice of the Impala louder than before. The pop of you slipping off his cock almost echoed.

“Tell me what you want,” you coached, your voice just as broken and hushed as Sam's. You couldn't even part from him that long, and dipped again to whorl your tongue around Sam's heavy tip. “Whatever you need, Sam,” you punctuated the reminder with a long, flat drag of your tongue from his base to the special spot under his tip, and beamed; Sam yelped. “I love it… I love,” you swallowed, “I love doing this for you.”

Sam worked his fingers into your untamed hair, and you did fucking love it. On the floor your knees were aching, but it and everything else was numb to the rolling glide of cock slotting into your mouth, of Sam reveling in your lips and tongue on him, watching you give it all just because he asked.

Sam’s knuckles caressed your cheekbone. “Wrap your lips around the head. Tight.”

You listened. He was more than comfortable on your jaw now, so your lips molded nicely to him, sealing and hollowing so he was even more snug in his new favorite place.

“Good girl,” Sam groaned, probably on instinct, but you stroked him faster for the praise, so he repeated it until his mind was muddy. “Lick the part unde—oh very, very good girl… I wish you could see yourself… I-I want…” he hissed in delight, “you look so pretty, ____… so pretty with my cock in your mouth, god…”

Holy shit. You had never really paid attention to that kind of talk before during sex, busied with the task at hand, but there was something euphoric about the way he said it to you now, your shy Sam, your Sam, his voice raspy, his pink mouth panting and open, his hands all over you, talking to you like he’d always wanted to say that. Your cunt ached.

With a deadly rumble spilling up from your chest, you slipped off his head and laved your gluttonous mouth down Sam’s soaking shaft, kissing, tonguing and sucking at whatever flesh you could find.

“Keep talking like that,” you begged into his base, breathless.

Sam listened. He cupped the sweat-slick nape of your neck, his hand easily broad enough to cover your back blade to blade, and in a messy, groping haze, dragged it up against your cheek. “Never seen you like this,” he purred, “eyes… all dark and… hot… lookin’ up at me… you’re so tiny between my legs like that.”

You couldn’t have restrained yourself if you tried. A weak whine seeped out of you. Sam’s thumb pushed into your cheek and you turned, lapping at it, then covering his hand with one of your own and searing kisses all over his palm. It was heavy and perfect for smudging your nose into. You sunk two open-mouthed kisses into Sam’s wrist where his bracelet was, then up his forearm, knowing only his body and how it could connect to your mouth. His pulse thudded furiously. Just as fast as you’d nuzzled up to him, you returned to Sam’s thick thumb, sucking it deep and right as he watched in rapture. The filthy delight written all over those mesmerized eyes had you praying to him.

“Wanna do this all the time,” Sam swallowed. He was all stream-of-consciousness now, too frenzied to filter himself. “Watch you suck me off… watch those perfect lips disappear around me, _____… y-you… oh, god, you are a natural, baby…”

His other hand, again, flushed your hair away from her forehead. All the love put into your face at once rooted you to the spot. It was miraculous, how special Sam could make you feel with just a few light touches. Bleeding with tenderness, he caressed your shoulders, your cheeks, your jaw, your hair, feasting on you as you had him.

Sam pushed the meat of his thumb into your swollen lip. “Open for me. Yeah… oh, yeah, let me watch you put it in…”

Your lips parted, mostly out of shock—when had Sam started thinking like this? A deeper part of your mind registered it all as innocent teasing, since Sam could never hurt or demean you; he was the basest definition of good to you. Regardless, you were more than willing to obey, and opened wide, tongue splayed for the heavy head of Sam’s dick. The extra kick of his pre-come had your toes curling every single time. But combined with Sam’s ruddy-cheeked, enraptured staring, just one touch to your clit would bring you over the edge. You forced your knees apart on the floor and held off. Just in case Sam intended to keep his promise.

The easiest way to put Sam’s dick into words was by comparing it to a warm, solid lollipop that took up your whole mouth, like the twisty kind from the carnival that eclipsed your whole face, chin to forehead. You’d been mourning Sam’s scrawniness after his four years away at college, but now you were nothing but grateful for the extra mass. Sam was really, really big. Bigger than anyone else you’d been with. He could’ve been any size and you would’ve been just as rabid for him, but there was something specifically hot about sucking him down as far as you could and failing to hit the bottom. It took effort to get there. You lazily pumped what you had left of his shaft, and in slow, deliberate surges of your spit-wet mouth, you earned an inch, then another.

Sam moaned so gutturally you felt it rumble under your palms. It was so Sam, in that it was like any sound you’d ever heard him make, sighing at a stupid joke, snarling during a fight, but this time it was him losing it because you were giving him a blowjob. Because you’d snuck away like idiot teenagers and you were blowing him good and filthy in Baby’s front seat.

“I-I thought about you all day,” he licked his lips, “all week, like this… it’s, you are so much better than I thought… m’ gonna make you cum so good for me.”

You wished that he could feel the way your cunt had fluttered at that. All you could do in answer was hum in approval, since you were so drunk off him, off the girth pressing against the start of your throat, that you couldn't even lift your head to speak. You did the opposite, pushing down and surging Sam's length in deeper and further than you’d gone before. The half-hour you’d poured into warming up for this was instantly worth it. You were by no means an amateur. Blowjobs, as a sexual activity, were with ease your favorite—but deepthroating was where your real talent lay. Wielding your skill, you relaxed your sore jaw and pressed forward.

The initial burn waited for you there, but Sam’s reaction was priceless.

Every muscle in his body snapped in, a taut coil broken in one motion. A strangled gasp broke from his throat. Sam's entire torso bore forward and his hips surged up to your face in a voiceless gasp, which you’d been expecting. You pinned them back down and dug for it, giving him no room to breathe, mashing your nose into his abs and hanging there, lingering, suckling, gagging, so all Sam could feel was the soft, hot, velvet pulse of your throat around his spent cock.

“I’m. I-I—”

You sucked harder, bringing a wave of spit with you, and closed a hand around Sam’s closest fist. Drool seeped over your knuckles. He spasmed. His voice tore, cutting off.

It was a little hard, but with practice—and you could practice on Sam for days, if that’s what it took—the ache would fade. All the pleasure was in the act itself, in your own slobbering sounds, the drool, and above all else the punch-to-the-teeth thrill it gave. Every inch of Sam’s pretty virgin dick was stuffing your throat. You could barely hollow your cheeks around him, Sam was so thick. His cock pulsed, once, then twice, then over and over. No other person in the world could claim him like you could, and no other person would ever have him like you had.

Sam came, and hard.

His thighs snapped closed around your ribs. He hung in place bent up over you, twitching mid-sob. Both of his hands snapped around your head, then his arms in full, scrabbling across your back, crazed, heaving, coating you entirely in the woody smell of him.

You flattened your palms to his thighs and drew upward. When it was just half his shaft in your mouth, so coated in saliva that you were connected to it in cloying strings, you persisted. The first spurt of him on your tongue detonated a ruthless orgasm deep within you on the spot. You latched onto him as it crested through you, digging your nails into Sam’s rolling hips, back and toes curled, pressing closer and swallowing the mouth-watering load you’d been dying to taste for years now. It came with its own gratified explosion of ecstasy. Your pussy sobbed, clenching without end, wracking your whole body with delicious waves of mind-whiting pleasure. The taste of him conquered you—fuck, he tasted perfect, salty and organic and human and Sam. It was a sugar rush of earthy sweetness that burned straight to your overwrought core.

You could’ve unburied yourself and let Sam finish anywhere, since he was already so mindless underneath your spell that anything would’ve pleased him. But there was something potent and intimate in being able to taste him. His body—every divine inch of it was yours, and a piece of him was filling an empty place in you.

You should’ve guessed by the size of him alone, but christ, Sam came whole glassfuls. His cum bubbled up into your mouth and spilled out of the corners of your lips, and you relished in it, drinking him down, whorling your tongue around his fleshy head, soaking up every second of your hard work’s result. The taste of him overwhelmed and surrounded you. The act did. It was in every facet a religious experience, angels singing, clouds parting, the sun glowing over them—all of it. Sam went down your throat piping hot, and you swore you could feel his cum gliding all the way to your stomach.

You slipped off him with a gasp. Hoarse, weak sighs huffed from your blazing lungs.

Slowly, as your orgasm ebbed further from your mind, your surroundings filtered back in. Peeling yourself away from him effectively rebooted all the systems in your body again. You could hear the rain bearing down on the Impala’s windshield overhead. Both of your palms were sticky and cloying with saliva. The whole lower half of your face, your abused lips, your aching jaw, your glistening cheeks, were slathered with slick. Your throat felt raw but recently balmed, like you’d swallowed a spoonful of honey to heal a soreness. Each of your knees had been stuck in place for so long that they were both numb, so the scratchy blanket beneath them seemed to ripple with pins and needles.

And Sam. Sam’s weight was braced in his hands, pressed flat to the dash, putting your face between the long bridge-arch of his shoulders. He’d collapsed around you in the footwell, shuddering and gasping for breath, and through the sea of endorphins and hormones, he managed to press his tacky forehead to yours.

You panted together; you inhaled and so did he, atoms apart, nearly mouth to mouth. Sam’s hot breath fanned across your face, cooling the saliva there.

It was something out of some old Italian sculpture, a Pietà, two nude figures entwined, expressing their love in form alone. You were collapsed on your knees, a worshipper gazing up at your saint. Sam was bent over you almost uncomfortably, every fiber of his body yearning for closeness, but close wasn’t close enough to you, his face smushed into yours and his jaw slack.

He looked nothing short of lovesick.

Hands shaking, you cupped Sam’s face. You pressed your thumbs into his warm, flushed cheekbones, then his dimples when he smiled dizzily at you, his girl.

You swallowed. “Did you like that?” You closed her eyes, hoping aloud, “...Did I… did I do a good job for you, Sammy?”

Sam surprised you. The haziness in his eyes cleared more and more with each inhale, until eventually, he was blinking down at you without guile. He burst out laughing.

“...There’s no way it was that bad,” you deadpanned. It didn’t hold for long, with him giggling over you like that. You fought against a mean, vibrant smile and its matching flush. “Alright, Sam, shut up! Quit laughing, you ass! What the hell did I—”

With the seat pushed back as far as it was, Sam had the room to get his hands under your arms again and drag you up onto his lap in one sturdy motion. Your shoulders quaked with laughter the whole time. Suddenly, his face and chest and throat were flush with yours. It was enough to drive a person crazy. Like before, Sam slotted your mouths together. The difference this time was that his cum was all over your face—but Sam could care less. You went from kissing him to gaping, since Sam dotted each filthy lick of your tongues with a heavy lap across your cheek or your chin. Tasting himself. On you. Fucking hell.

“Stop gawking n’ kiss me,” Sam insisted. He pawed at your back for emphasis, then your shoulders from below, adjusting your weight on his thighs since in your shock you’d dropped on him completely.

(And that was definitely a hard-on scooping against your inner thigh. Fucking fuck. Jesus Christ. Holy shit, Sam.)

“You were better n’ good,” he shivered. Filthily and innocently all at once, he grinned, “...I can’t believe… that was how my first time went. I can’t believe you… You, you just…”

He struggled for words. Eventually, Sam purred: “You are a natural.”

I love you, you almost blurted. You deliberately filled your lungs to calm yourself down. Your arms were around Sam’s neck and he was gazing up at you, brimming with satisfaction and gratitude and boundless, unhidden love. Dangerous territory. His taste had sunk thick and sweet on your tongue, so you both moan when you share it with him in a surging kiss.

“Anytime,” you rasped, maybe sounding a bit desperate. You were. Sam was everything you wanted in a thousand different ways, so you refused to let the moment go. In the black darkness, you laid kisses into him until your lips tingled. “I fucking—ugh. That was perfect. You were perfect. If… if you ever want me like that again—”

“I do,” was Sam’s immediate, unflinching answer. “But… I have a condition.”

He swallowed. At first, you figured he was nervous, and knowing it was his first time you doubted he wasn’t. But then Sam’s eyes flashed. Both of his enormous hands smoothed down your waist, kneading the flesh, squeezing you around the sides so his thumbs were in your belly, then his fingers were sliding flat to your hip and down. They plucked under the waistband of your underwear—the last and only layer between you.

“Every time you go down on me,” his hungry, sultry gaze devoured yours, “I get to practice on you, too.”

-

part two.

[enid-rhees]

helloo how are you doing?

Can i request a angst? Rosita x Reader, where the reader is like in dwight’s position, the double agent thing. And then Negan finds about what the y/n has been doing…

this is like my 3rd? or 4th rosita request 😭

Surprise us with the ending?? 😁 i don’t want my own request to spoil me LMAOO 😭😭😭

hello !! i am doing well :D this is such a good request actually and i’m so sorry if this does not do it justice 😭

warnings: negan, angst, mentions of Abraham, Glenn and Carl’s death. angst but (semi) happy ending

a/n: hope you all enjoy! requests are open! if you’d like to request just read rules in pinned 🫶🏻 !

btw i know these gun types because i play a zombie game called Left 4 Dead 2 nearly everyday 😭

you stuffed your gun into the back of your pants and covered it with your shirt and flannel. your hands tore off the key from your belt loop and you quietly unlocked the gun shelf. you grabbed as many as you could and closed the shelf up again.

stopping in your tracks, you practically stopped breathing to make sure you didn’t hear any footsteps approaching you.

when there was no sound, you slowly walked out of the room and towards the first exit door that was near you. you walked out, and the guard men stood still. they knew what you were doing.

you opened the gate and pulled out your car keys. the trunk popped open and you threw the guns back there. the engine revved as you started the car, and you quickly drove off in hopes to not get Negan’s attention.

the drive was quiet, and slightly unnerving. you knew what you were getting yourself into - helping Rick’s group behind Negan’s back. but if you were being honest, they didn’t deserve what Negan was doing to them.

they had just lost the boy, Rick’s son. you were there when he called Negan over the walkie, announcing that he got bit saving a stranger. 

you knew long ago that Negan shouldn’t have gone this far, but now with this grief that’s on their shoulders, you couldn’t let him dig further into them. it needed to end.

the rusted gate of Alexandria soon came into view and you pulled over the car into a hidden spot. you jumped out and grabbed the guns from the back and made your way to the gate.

in your pocket sat a walkie that wasn’t connected to any of Negan’s. you twisted it on and held it close to your lips. “i’m outside the gate. with guns.”

a few minutes later, the gate started to slide open. Rick, Michonne, and Rosita stood on the other side.

“what did you bring?” Rick asked as you stepped inside, the gate closed up immediately.

“M-16, a tactical shotgun, hunting and sniper rifle, and a pump shotgun. so, that’s five guns. that’s what i could grab without Negan really noticing.” you explained, handing them to the three of them as you named them.

Rick nodded, “this is good, Y/N. thanks.”

you nodded and exhaled deeply, “so, what’s the plan? are we… killing him or what?”

“well, that’s been the plan for a while. you’re good with that?” you laughed and nodded. “i am more than good with that, Rick. i wouldn’t be here giving you our guns if i didn’t want you to kill him.”

“does anyone at the Sanctuary know you’re doing this?” Michonne asked. “the guards know but only because i threatened them. i’m basically Negan’s right-hand man, they’re just as scared of me as they are of him.”

“you’re risking a lot just being here.” Rick pointed out. you nodded, “i know. but i know who’s in the right and who’s in the wrong. and… i just need to get out of there.”

“when this over, you’ll be with us.” Rosita said firmly. you smiled at her, and she smiled back. but yours quickly faded, “i need to go back before he notices. um- those guns are fully loaded. and i believe…” you trailed off as you dig through your pockets. you pulled out a handful of extra shotgun shells.

“these are for the pump.” Michonne held her hands out and you poured them into her hands. “thank you, Y/N. we really appreciate what you’re doing.” Rick said.

“just trying my best. i’ll try to be back tomorrow.” you told them. you looked over at Rosita once more, you debated with yourself for a minute before giving up.

you walked closer to her and put a hand on the back of her head. you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her head, squeezing your eyes shut while your lips lingered there. “be safe.” you whispered.

after that, you left and went back to your car. the ride back was quiet once more, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

sneaking behind Negan’s back was one thing, but having a relationship with someone in the group you’re supposed to hate was another.

you weren’t sure if you could even call it a relationship yet, that forehead kiss was the boldest thing you’ve done so far. you cared deeply for Rosita, and you wanted her to know you meant it.

a sigh left your lips when the Sanctuary came into view. you hated this. you hated Negan, you hated living there, you just wanted everything to be over.

everything seemed normal the next day. you woke up without Negan banging on your door. that was good.

you wiped your eyes and stood up from your creaky bed, slipping on your boots. the gun that sat next to your bed went right back into the same place - stuffed in your jeans and hidden by your shirt.

when you put your hand on your doorknob to open it, 3 loud, obnoxious knocks beat you to it. you sighed, opening the door the face a smiling Negan.

“there you are,” he smiled, wrapping his arm over your shoulder. you tensed, but he was too far up his own ass to notice. “come get breakfast with me, sweetheart.”

you grimaced to yourself at the nickname, that was only reserved for one person to call you that. Rosita.

plates were already set at the table of Negan’s office. you sat down slowly and took a fork into your hand. eggs and bacon sat neatly on your plate.

the fork cut into the egg and you took the bite. “what do you say about paying a little visit to Rick and his people?” Negan asked you, taking a bite of his bacon.

“is there a reason?” you asked. “do we need a reason?” he asked in a defensive tone. you shook your head, “no, Negan.”

“exactly. so therefore, we’re going! eat up and get ready.” he instructed. you looked down at your food, suddenly not having an appetite at all. when you looked back up at Negan, he had an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

you ate the rest of your food and pushed the plate away as you stood up, leaving the room and going back into your room. quietly, you turned the lock on your door.

the walkie sat on your desk, so you grabbed it and walked into the closet next to your bed. sliding down into the corner, you twisted it on.

“Rick!” you whisper-shouted, “it’s Y/N. pick up please.” it took a few moments, but soon static came through the other side. “Y/N? what’s going on?”

“Negan decided he’s coming today. hide those guns and just- prepare yourselves. please. i’ll be there but-“ Negan banged on your bedroom door. “Y/N! hurry the hell up. we’re leaving.”

a shaky breath left your lips, “hide the guns now, Rick. he just called me to come out, we’ll be there soon. and- check up on Rosita for me, please.” you shut the walkie off before he can answer and left your closet.

“coming!” you called out, burying the walkie into your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. you turned the lock and swung the door open.

“were you talking to someone in there?” Negan questioned, tilting his head a bit. your heart dropped down to your ass but you kept up your posture. “no? you’re hearing things, old man.”

you were one of the only people who were allowed to joke with him like that. if it were anyone else, they probably would’ve been dead. so, you took advantage of it this one time.

he cracked a smile and laughed, “fuck you!” you faked a laugh and opened the exit door, heading over to his truck.

his other men got into the cars behind his. you settled into the passenger seat, tapping your fingers on your thighs as you waited for him to get in and start the car.

you kept a sharp look on your face, but on the inside, you were panicking. your heart was racing and your legs felt like jelly.

Negan opened the backseat up first, throwing his bat back there. you hated that thing. you could still see blood stains on them, and memories from that one cold night filled your head.

you remembered their names. Glenn and Abraham. they didn’t deserve what happened to them. Glenn had a wife, a pregnant one at that. she had to watch him die brutally, all because of the man you’re supposed to devote your life to. 

Negan got in the drivers seat and started up the car, driving forward out of the property of the Sanctuary. 

every time you left that place, part of you relaxed a little.

you and Negan didn’t speak the entire drive to Alexandria. there was never anything to talk about outside of his plans for what to do with Rick and his group. that’s all he cared about. besides himself, of course.

Negan drove the familiar route, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove. as the minutes passed by, you got closer and closer to the gate of Alexandria.

your heart started to beat faster than before, and it genuinely felt like it was going to explode out of your chest. you started to bite your nail out of nervousness.

he put the truck to a stop when you were down the street from the gate. you took a deep breath and undid your seat belt. you hopped out the truck and slammed the door shut, loud enough to let Rick know you were here.

his men exited out of their cars, and then you were all walking towards the gate. it opened without any of you having to say anything. Rick stood there and Negan smiled.

“ah, Rick Grimes. there he is.” while they unwillingly talked to each other, your eyes scanned the small town. amongst the group of people that gathered many feet behind Rick, you spotted Rosita, and she seemed to have spotted you as well. a small breath of relief left your lips.

Negan started to walk, so you followed without knowing what he was going to do next.

“i figured i could just have a little chat about something with you, Rick. that’s what we’re here for after all.” Rick quickly looked at you, but you didn’t know what Negan meant by that at all.

suddenly, Negan pulled his handgun out, and pressed it to your head. you froze. Rick’s eyes widened, and Rosita began to run towards you. Michonne quickly pulled her back.

“Y/N! wanna explain to me why our guns are missing, and why i saw you leave the Sanctuary last night? and for that matter, multiple nights in a row?” Negan questioned, keeping the gun right against you.

your words got caught in your throat, and all you could muster were choked out “i-i-“

“let me get this straight, Y/N!” Negan yelled, “behind my back, you have been helping Rick and his people. is that correct?” your wide eyes stayed stuck on the ground, but then he pulled you by the collar of your shirt to make you look up at him. “is that correct?!” he shouted.

“yes!” you cried out, completely giving into him. he pulled you so your back hit his chest and he wrapped arm tight around yours while his other still held the gun to to your head.

“let her go!” Rosita yelled, still attempting to get out of Michonne’s grip. your eyes squeezed shut as your breathing quickened.

“oh, so not only have you been helping these people, you’re fucking one behind my back as well?” you’ve never heard Negan be fueled with so much anger, this really got to him. he trusted you more than anyone, and you broke his trust instantly.

Negan let out a bittersweet laugh, “since you decided to be like this, i think we all know what you deserve. but i want you to look that girl straight in the eyes as i put this bullet right into your head.”

your eyes opened and looked over at Rosita. she cried in Michonne’s grip. Negan cocked the gun and pressed it further into your head. “ready?”

“no- NO-“ when Rosita screamed out, blood suddenly splattered into your face. the grip Negan had on you loosened. before he could fall to the ground, his lifeless finger still slipped on the trigger.

pounding pain suddenly coursed through your body. you looked down, watching blood pour down your stomach. you held the spot weakly, and you heard Rosita scream out once more before you fell to the ground.

beeping. you heard beeping.

it took strength to do it, but you managed to open your eyes. almost immediately, you squeezed them shut again as you were blinded by a bright light above you.

slowly, you opened them again to adjust them to the light. you tried to sit up, but pain struck you right in the stomach. you gasped out in pain and hovered your hand over the spot that hurt.

then you remembered, you got shot by a dying Negan. is he really dead? were you dead? was this the afterlife? did it even exist?

you felt stuck to whatever you were laying on. you couldn’t move, and it hurt just to breathe.

it was blurry, but a sudden figure appeared in your vision. they stopped, and then ran over to you. “Y/N? can you hear me?”

your eyes looked over at the blurry figure above you, but you still felt stuck. then they grabbed your jaw, and poured ice cold water into your mouth. it was soothing, “where am i?” you rasped out slowly.

“you’re in the doctors office of Alexandria. my name is Denise. you were shot by Negan.” she informed you. “i performed a surgery on you, and you were extremely lucky to survive, Y/N.”

“where is he?”

“Negan is dead. Rick shot him. but his finger slipped as he died, which is how he shot you.” she explained slowly, taking off a bloody bandage from your stomach to replace it with a new one.

“i need… Rosita.” you said, voice weak as ever. “please- i need her. where is she? is she safe?” your voice cracked, and you felt a tear skip from your eye. “she’s okay, Y/N. i’ll call her in right now. stay still.”

Denise grabbed a walkie and went into another room. you couldn’t hear the conversation she was having, but not even 5 minutes passed, and Rosita bursted through the door.

“Ro,” you cried out. she ran to you, gently holding your face into her hands. “i’m here, sweetheart. i’m here.” she whispered, tears filling her eyes as well. she leaned her head on yours as she cried quietly.

“i’m okay.” you whispered. “i’m alive.”

she pulled away, pressing a long kiss to your head. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. i promise- i’ll protect you with everything i have. i’ll never let you go.” she vowed, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

you put your hand on her head, pulling her head down. you did it until her lips were centimeters away from yours, and then you closed the small distance and pressed your lips to hers for the first time.