#u guys are just going to have to deal w me making more posts w my every thought cuz i cant shut up sorry!

[pup-pee]

this is basically my kyle playlist

california girls is rlly carrying the angst so sad((she eants me(2 b loved) is not the sadest song ots just the 1st))

[lordiavolo]

to be like frank here, redemption is an ever going cycle. when youve been the problem, the toxic ex, the abuser, you have to know you will have to apologize for that for the rest of your life. you will always have to live with the guilt and conscience of knowing how you hurt that person, or mutliple people. and you have to constantly CHOOSE to not repeat that behavior, and its not easy.

when you meet a new friend the topic of who you used to be will come up eventually, and if you have changed youll be honest with who you were. you cant run from it. you cant try to round the corners and make it seem like the other persons fault, or like it wasnt as bad as it was. its really really scary. because everytime you open up about it, its not just the wound of guilt but its also the fear that theyre going to look inside and not like what theyll see.

but you have to keep moving on and you have to keep being honest. and you have to remember that everyone is applicaple for redemption, you just have to work for it and admitting you were wrong with no buts is the first step.

[mysunshine-youremoonlight]

vaniiii ehe hiya :3 umm we got a system sideblog if yer interested in seein more of us... but ummmm hiya !!!! i missed ya n im glad t' see ya... do ya got any advice fer copin wit' lack of attention from an fp.... we're okay but if ya got anythin it might be helpful for us :33 ehe i love yaaaa -🪴

MIIIIIKAAAAA!!!!!!!!! i missed u guys </3 i would love to see more of u tho i miss you guys when you're not around... although i guess technically you are since you said we're mutuals but skdghds

ough. tbh i've been pretty lucky insofar that i haven't had a lotta issues with that... but in my experience usually if i gotta be left alone for awhile distracting myself helps a lot? like. go down a wikipedia rabbit hole, or do a puzzle, or play a game you get super invested in. just something to focus on so you don't end up in your own head kinda thing yanno??? otherwise don't feel bad to just. ask for attention? like. it's not illegal to have human desires. and as long as your fp isn't busy or something they probably don't mind talking with you a lil :3 although idk for sure i know everyone has different relationships with their fp so ^^; do not listen to me if you know it'll cause you harm/strife/etc :< also naps. bc those pass the time reaaaaal quick. its like a lifehack. feeling bad? take a nap. you'll either feel amazing after or like you got smacked in the face with a trout ! oh and also like. doing schoolwork or smth productive maybe? thats not really fun tho so dskghds maybe pick up a kinda time-consuming hobby like crochet or cross-stitch or something where you can use that to distract yourself and have something to do with your hands :3?

but if its like. ur Already Feeling Bad i recommend like. watching a movie/tv show/etc that you really like or getting a Little Treat(tm) or something :3 curl up with a cozy blanket and drink some hot cocoa or tea or something !! its not like. a sure-fire fix. but i find the combo of distraction + comfort media + Little Treat tends to make you feel at least a lil better :3 also if it gets Very Bad just like. destroy some old school work you don't need or somethin. tearing papers to shreds is sooooooo fun. make sure u don't accidentally rip up something you need though skjghds it helps to calm down a lil and then you can work on relaxing a little more !! its not like. guaranteed. but sometimes gettin some of the destructive urges out helps

ily2 mika <3 i would die for u btw /lh

[1ovestay]

twt was working for me on desktop and i made a list for my tl n it was all finally working so i tweeted that everything was fine for me cuz im gods little favourite but i shouldnt have opened my mouth

[zaephix]

I LOVE THE CAMERA SO, SO MUCH—AND THE CAMERA LOVES ME ! / / xavier , zayne, rafayel & sylus . . .

ever since you went viral on the internet, your relationship has become the evvy and dream of users globally. just what about you guys was so groundbreaking?

warnings: f!reader, established relationship, modern!au without the monster protocore stuff, ooc!sylus??? this is my first time writing him im scared yall, internet fame, fluff, suggestive on zayne's part, relationship tingz mostly inspired by douyin couple tiktoks (im so lonely brah.)

w/c: 2.15k (about 500-600 each.. whew. sylus ws the longest...)

author's note: if u guys can figure out what photo reference i ws talking ab in zayne's ily (hint hint that one nanami fanart) also did u guys peep the rv reference in the title??? #reveluv #streamcosmic art cred: angye on twt

XAVIER didn't think that he'd go viral for something as silly as interupting your tiktok by carrying you away, then again he didn't even know you posted it.

it didnt just go viral because the two of you were in the cutest matching hoodies, but because he swept you off your feet so smoothly and almost effortlessly.

soon after that, comments flooded your page gushing about how they'd wish they had a boyfriend as clingy and affectionate as him, and you two had started a new trend.

after that video, many followed you because they fell in love with you and your relationship, almost begging for more crumbs of you two. your page was then full of the two of you more so than before, photos of you two in onesies cuddling, stargazing, and even little day-to-day vlogs.

your fans just kept eating them up, and he had to deal with the impending consequences of it.

"XAVIER, come pose with me!"

the grey-blond haired man sighed, dragging his feet towards you. "don't you think we're done? we've taken so many already..."

you raise a brow, "we didnt take any this whole week? cmoon, the camera's rolling, let's do that dance i taught you!"

"but it's late, and i wanna go to sleep... we can take some tomorrow morning or something..."

you give him the sternest look you could muster, and he generates the biggest puppy eyes he'd ever done, looking down at you with a small pout as his hands hung loosely around your waist.

"a kiss then?"

you roll your eyes affectionately, "you can have your kiss after this i promise! pleaaaseee xavier?"

it seemed that he wasn't gonna take no as an answer, as he kept leaning in towards you, determined as ever.

your face was burning as you chuckle nervously, leaning away from him. he slowly inched closer, until you were at a point where you could go no further without any help.

realizing you had no other choice, you sighed with a pout of your own, and XAVIER took this as a chance to pull you closer and press a kiss to your lips, making you giggle. you pressed your fingers lightly to his lips as he swayed you side to side, and you couldn't help but laugh and follow suit.

"XAVIER!"

you posted the video not long after that, a cute song in the background to cover the sounds of your voices. within just 2 hours, it went viral, taking its spot as your number one video.

"ughhhhhh is this too much to ask for?"

"if you look closely you'll see me laying on the street."

"u guys r my fav couple ever pls don't ever break up!!!"

it was safe to say you never got your dance.

ZAYNE took quiet pride in being your boyfriend—and he took it very seriously as well. he'd fuss over you even more than before, making sure you were okay at all times

you'd joke about how he was acting more as your husband than your boyfriend. he'd brush your comments aside, saying you think too much (funnily enough his ears were quite red)

your relationship went viral due to the sillyness you brought into it, the little antics you'd pull around him as you two would go through your day-to-day life being the highlight of the week for your viewers

but what really made you two so popular was in the gentleness he'd treat you with. his words may seem curt and blunt, but his actions said anything but that. in your mini vlogs, ZAYNE would display tiny gestures of affection, ranging from delicately fixing your jewelry and carrying your purse to zipping up your dress and putting your heels on for you.

"hey god... it's me again..."

"i want a rich doctor bf too!"

"my parentsssss <3"

your viewers would nitpick at every little thing, hundreds of fan edits taking over the app by storm, and you'd repost every single one of them

"ZAYNE! i'm home! sorry, usually i'd be the one to be early but the association had-"

you stopped, frowning as you realized the lights were off, the only source of light coming from your kitchen. making your way there, you were met with the back of your boyfriend, seemingly working very hard on something.

"zayne?"

he turned around, greeting you with a soft look of surprise. "oh. you're here." he stepped towards you, and now you could see that he was wearing an apron over a dress shirt and pants.

"go to your room. i left a change of clothes for you on your bed."

you looked at him confusedly before realization and guilt struck you. "...oh! oh my gosh, i'm so sorry! i forgot it was our anniversary! i'll-"

you shut up as he looks at you with an amused lift of his brow, taking this as your cue to go get changed.

turns out, ZAYNE had taken a day off without you realizing it. he spent the day getting your apartment ready for your anniversary. and he had everything set alright.

"i can't believe you did all of this yourself... i mean- wow..."

you two enjoyed a nice candlelit dinner with your favorite foods and drinks, and you kept having to resist the urge to just tug him closer with his tie and plant kisses all over his face.

wait, unless...

"ZAYNE, could you come here?"

ZAYNE thought the two of you were done, wanting to spend the rest of the night with you in his arms-it turns out you had a different idea

"you still haven't gotten your reward."

you uploaded a new post to your instagram page, captioned "my sweet doctor <3" with pictures of your dinner that night

and on the very last slide, was a picture of him turned to the side with lipstick covered kiss marks over his face and shirt, ears a pretty shade of red, and your hand pulling him in by his tie

your fans could only ever imagine what happened after that

it was just after your date with RAFAYEL at the aquarium did the topic of who his lover was striked appeal to the media. apparantly, some fans recognized him and sneakily took photos.

at first, he was annoyed by it, but after seeing compilations of videos where he'd see you two, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to indulge the public.

soon after that, his pages both on instagram and tiktok had tiny easter eggs of you, whether it be your clothes, a second of you in the background of his videos or even in his paintings.

the comments would be full of "did u guys see the ___ in the background?" or "to have a painter as a bf... im jealous..."

to fuel the fire, you'd feed your already large fanbase your own easter eggs of him. one of his paintings in the background, a shirt of his on your couch, a split second of your wallpaper shown, etc.

you were just having fun, you didn't expect anything to really come out of the antics you both were pulling in front of the public.

however, you both thought wrong, as it didn't take long for the people to put two and two together.

"RAFAYEL... my legs hurt... when are the fireworks gonna start?"

"shhh just be patient, we can stop here if you want?"

you two were at one of the largest beach festivals at linkon, and after a whole day of running around and trying everything, your legs had gotten sore.

you and RAFAYEL sit down on the cool sand, the water from the waves inching closer and closer. you could hear the commotion coming from the festival, but all you could focus on right now were the waves in front of you.

"ugh... you're right. all that running around has made me exhausted. don't be surprised if you have to carry me home."

you flick him on his forehead as he weakly puts his hands up in surrender and lays down on the sand. you lay beside him, your arm propping your head up.

"i had fun today though. it's felt like ages since we went somewhere in public together."

he hums, pulling your hand towards him to rest on his face. "yeah... its too much... maybe we should just settle down back at-"

"oh my god, is that RAFAYEL? and... is that his girlfriend!?"

you quickly turn around and were met with a group of fangirls. you turn back around to rafayel to see him already sat up, motioning for you to follow him.

"i know you said you were tired but..."

you read his mind instantly, getting up and grabbing his hand. you both start to run away from the clicks and flashes of the paparazzi, giggling and laughing while doing so.

the fireworks had finally started behind you.

after that whole fiasco, you and RAFAYEL retired to his bedroom back at his studio, breathless and exhausted.

as you two soundly slept, the internet was currently in shambles after finding out your secret relationship, leaked photos of you two running together and getting into your car having made it on every platform.

and as his phone rang with notifications, he had an inkling of what happened.

"whatever..." he thinks tiredly as he pulls the covers over you and him.

"...i can deal with that tomorrow."

SYLUS was never shy in showing you off as his girlfriend, but never once discouraged nor encouraged your moves to post the two of you together

yet the moment you posted the huge bouquet of roses he'd sent to your apartment via luke and kieran and it blew up, it was almost like he was urging you to show him off

you didn't even mean for it to go that big, you just thought they were pretty

and yet, he'd sneak in small comments during your conversations like "the view here is pretty, wanna comemorate it?" or "look, our outfits are matching, i could get kieran to take a picture of us together if you'd like?"

you'd taken the hint pretty quickly, rolling your eyes as you brushed it off each time, until you had a change of heart one day

you posted a video of you touring the city on his motorcylce, one hand wrapped around his torso and the other holding your phone, showing off the view and the well, broad, shoulders and back of your boyfriend

and as you can probably tell, it went viral, with many users commenting how they'd wish they had their own biker boyfriend who'd take them across cities

he scrolls through the comments in his freetime, lips turned upwards and already planning your next hit

"SYLUS...? what's the meaning of... this?"

just a minute ago, SYLUS walked up to you and asked if you'd like to go shopping, that it was on him. you agreed hesitantly as you got up, suspicious of his intentions already.

and without giving you time to think, he picked you up with one arm and has not put you down since.

"well, i thought it'd be nice to treat you, it's been a while afterall."

"...we went to a michellin star restaurant like two days ago?"

"hm."

sighing, you reel your head back and notice a glint in the dark hallways of his manor, along with hushed voices and camera clicks.

was that... luke and kieran?

"wait, wait, wait, wait— i think i saw luke and kieran—"

he swiftly glaces behind you two with furrowed brows, and then gave you a small smirk. sometimes you can't tell if he's teasing you or not.

"pay them no mind, they're probably up to something again. best not to find out now."

he looks at you curiously, "or is this your way of saying you want out? i was gonna pay a visit to the claw machine with you... i heard they had a new limited edition plushie..."

your eyes snap back to his, "no, no! this is fine... i'm sure i was just imagining things."

he gives you a triumphant smile and keeps walking, yet your mind can't help but wander back to what those twins were doing...

and it turns out your suspicions were right all along, for after you came back home from a successful night of shopping, your phone was abuzz with notifications coming from your friends

luke and kieran had secretly recorded the two of you when he picked you up, and made sure to show the black card that was in SYLUS'S possesion

you'd have never thought he'd go along with a plan as silly as this with the two of them, but they were his assistants afterall.

later, you were bored out of your mind, so you decide to scroll through the comments.

"hows it feel to live my dream!?"

"i'll get it one day... one day...."

"if i ever had a boyfriend like that, i'd never let him rest."

and as you look over at the sleeping man beside you, you definitely understood them.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU + GETO SUGURU — your stepdad gojo always seemed to show off how good your father / daughter relationship really was whenever his bestfriend would visit.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! stepcest, stepdad!gojo, vouyerism, f!receiving oral, teasing, you refer to him as daddy, pet names. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hi guys! it’s me! i got struck w motivation suddenly & i missed u all ! <3 i’m back on my filthy little agenda & finally elaborating on this post now that i’m back :3

you always loved when your step dads bestfriend visited, you could always tell it was him with how softly he seemed to close the door — your home suddenly being filled with light hearted jokes from the two men downstairs that always pulled you out of your bedroom.

geto had always been kind to you, he’d basically been as big a part of your life as gojo had been— although you always thought it was funny the way they would both playfully fight for your attention. more so your dad’s bestfriend just letting him win so he didn’t have to listen to him whining about how he’s stealing you from him.

so today is just the same when you hear you the familiar “you’ve got a visitor, sweet girl.” call from downstairs as it’s followed by a smooth chuckle from the man in question. you know who it is— you’ve just gotten out from your shower, skin still slightly damp underneath the oversized fabric of your daddy’s shirt and you don’t really have the time to change into something warmer, opting just to deal with the panties underneath — the shirts long enough to hide them anyway.

it’s fast the way you make your way through the house, almost toppling into the living room as your greeted with the two men on either sofa. you suddenly feel nervous with the way their eyes cut into you, feeling hot underneath their gaze as you grab and pull at the hem of your shirt.

“slow down, sweet thing. excited to see me?” is how it begins, the usual teasing as gojo gives his bestfriend a narrowed look followed by a sly smirk sent your way. but it seems to cut through the tension in the room, helping you relax as his arms outstretch and you suddenly feel embarrassed underneath your clothes when he gives you an expectant look, tapping at his lap when you pause and rock yourself on your feet.

but you’re much too distracted by the way geto’s looking at you, head propped up against his fist as he lets himself rest against the arm of the couch. his hair is pulled back handsomely, letting you admire his pretty cut features and the usual kind-hearted smile he always reserved for you. “it’s good to see you again.”

“hah! come onnn~ you shy? ‘ts just suguru, you don’t wanna embarrass me infront of my friend, right?” gojo groans, a little louder this time as his crystalline gaze narrows playfully at you with a pout. your step dad has always been a little touchy, especially around his bestfriend — always insisting you spend your time together tucked into his lap or under his arm, like he’s staking a silent claim.

“you better go before he starts whining, we won’t hear the end of it.” geto’s words are soothing but he makes sure they’re loud enough for his friend to hear as the snowy haired male tuts. but just before he fires back another quick response, he smirks as you pad your way towards him — giving into the way his arms wrap instinctively around your hips as he pulls you into his lap, letting your thighs rest over his own as you press into his side under his arm.

“see, bet you’re comfy now, right? gotta show suguru that i’m still your favourite.” the first half of gojo’s sentence is a low drawl as you readjust yourself, words breathed along the shell of your ear before he makes the latter a little louder. like he’s celebrating a victory as his bestfriend pretends not to hear him.

but you press yourself into him just like always, it was too easy to get lost in the feel of him against you — tucking yourself against him as he lets one of his arms curl around you to rest at the base of your spine.

you let yourself chime into their conversation for a while before you just allow yourself to listen— opting for a giggle or a laugh at their playful banter, feeling gojo squeeze at your hips everytime he says something that he finds particularly funny so he can make sure you’re listening, laughing. you readjust yourself against him again and he’s always there to pull you closer, pressing a quick peck against your temple and you like how homey it feels when the three of you are like this.

the time seems to move quickly, the conversation has settled down slightly despite the way the two bestfriends still seemed to tease eachother and you feel content from where you’re curled against your stepdad, face resting in the crook of his neck as his fingers smooth along your spine.

“is she asleep?” you hear geto ask lowly, kindly and it makes your eyelashes flutter— tickling along gojo’s skin as he hums. he knows you’re not, but he still lets the question hang for a few more moments as his fingers trace shapes into your skin. he readjusts himself, silently before the next twist of his wrist brings his hand around your hips, placing featherlight touches along the planes of your skin until you shudder into him.

“daddy—“ it’s embarrassing, the soft whine your voice takes— you’re so responsive. your daddy’s heard you like this before, he took great pleasure in being able to pull those sounds from you but this was a first for his bestfriend.

“oh? ‘s my sweet girl tired? suguru was worried.” you keen at the low drawl gojo’s voice takes— you’d heard it like that before, it was like instinct the way you reacted to it especially when it’s accompanied by the teasing squeeze of his palms — kneading at your skin until you’re fidgeting.

“i’m fine.” you murmur as you try so hard to bury yourself into your stepdad’s neck, you’re so embarrassed— too hot underneath your clothes and all he’s done is barely touch you, show off the reaction he can pull from you with just a few swipes of his fingers.

“oh yeah? just fine?” gojo drawls again, a lull to his voice that lets you know he’s teasing you and you can’t help the way your arms reach to wrap around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the snowy peaks of his hair as you grumble in response, but you know he won’t let you away with just that.

you can feel the heat of geto’s gaze from across the room and the way it follows the warm press of the fingers along your skin, the shape of your waist, the swell of your ass and you keen at the attention before they pinches playfully at the skin, making you jolt as you press your chest into his with a short whine.

“n-no.. i’m good.”

“can’t hear you, princess. lil louder f’ me, make sure he can hear you.” gojo almost chuckles with your sensitive little reaction, the heat from your arousal feels like it burns you and now you really wish you’d thrown on something to hide the way you’re rubbing your thighs together. you’re so desperate, needy to feel something before your mind blurs at the feeling of your daddy’s long fingers finally pushing between your thighs to squeeze.

“you’re making her nervous, satoru.” grounds you as geto pushes himself to stand, his eyes seem darker now but the kindness in his expression remains the same as he takes his first careful step into your space. you’re already pliant, like putty when the snowy haired male beside you moves you so easily, pulling at your thigh until you’re pressed perfectly, pretty in his lap while you face his friend — back pressed against his broad chest as he breathes deep along your shoulder.

“that right? you think you can calm her down, sugu?” there’s something carnal in gojo’s words, like a challenge— he knows that nobody could ever beat him when it comes to you, the pleasure he can pull from you is limitless. but he can feel the way you seem to stiffen, your breathing coming in short pants as his bestfriend comes closer until he’s looking down at you both, but his eyes are on you before he crouches down to your level to meet you.

“oh i wouldn’t say that.” his voice seems different now, lower— deeper when you find yourself suddenly too nervous to meet his gaze but your step dad forces you to, fingers circling from behind to hold your jaw gently in place as his other hand pulls at your inner thigh.

you feel so exposed as gojo spreads you so easily with one hand, like he’s serving his pretty little step daughter up to his bestfriend like a meal, although you admit geto’s looking at you like he could devour you completely. your thighs almost tremble with want with the first press of your daddy’s best friends palm against the opposite thigh, helping to hold you open as he admires the already damp spot on your panties.

“but she seems to like this, don’t you, pretty girl?” geto’s words are still smooth despite the way his fingers squeeze in your skin as he leans forward, letting himself press a quick kiss against your clothed pussy before he exhales against you— like he’s taking his first breath of fresh air in years.

the sounds that leave you are humiliating as he pushes deeper into you, letting his tongue tease along the damp fabric— pressing into the swollen bump of your clit all while your step dad holds you in place. your thighs and hips quake, as do your lungs with every staggered inhale you take— you can barely breathe with the way he drinks you up, tongue rolling and curling through your folds so expertly you wouldn’t believe there was still a layer between you both.

you jolt, tremble and gojo knows you’re already close as he curls over you — letting you feel the heavy press of his cock against your lower back as he suckles wet kisses along your throat from behind. “make sure you’re good for sugu, alright, sweet thing.” his words are hissed through his teeth as he rocks into you slightly, pushing his bestfriend’s mouth even deeper between your thighs before his fingers finally hook underneath the fabric of your panties to pull them aside.

“but gotta remember you’re daddy’s girl.” it’s growled, timed well with the way geto’s tongue finally presses against the now exposed skin of your folds, cutting through the glistening petals as he suckles and smacks at the mess. you can’t help but arch back into your stepdad, urging him to let his free hand palm at your tits, twisting and flicking at the raised skin of your nipples through his shirt until you’re whining so greedily for more.

“mmm, see.. so sensitive f’ only me.” his words urge you to turn to meet him and you can taste the possessiveness in gojo’s words when he’s suddenly pushing them between your lips as he kisses you, messy and driven even more by the way geto’s mouth is wrapped around you all while he watches. his long fingers clasp gently around one of your nipples before he pulls and you feel lightheaded with how close you are, feeling the flames of your orgasm lick at your spine as you feel his clothed cock press languidly into you from behind as he licks into your mouth.

“daddy.. please.” you beg against him and the man pulls away to chuckle smugly, suddenly as your chest expands with every shakey breath you struggle to take. you’re so close, you feel too hot for your skin but just as geto closes his lips around your clit to suckle — he pulls away, cheeks wet with slick as he breathes out your step dads name.

“i only needed another second, satoru.”

“nope, times up.” gojo mutters playfully and if you couldn’t feel just how affected he was by this you’d assume he wasn’t at all with how giddy he sounds, but then his attention turns back to you.

“you gonna show him how sweet you are for daddy now? i knew my sweet girl wouldn’t let him tease me like this.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[lewisvinga]

me n my dumbasses | charles leclerc x fem! driver! reader x pierre gasly

summary; just f1’s fave ‘childhood besties to lovers’ throuple being iconic

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; cursing i think

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; requested !

masterlist !

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liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and others !

yourusername: average day w the most stupid people in all of france ( and monaco ) (( i unfortunately have dealt with them my whole life and i also unfortunately love them ))

tagged; pierregasly, charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: but pierre was first in ur last photo dump ☹️

pierregasly: mate you almost killed us …😀

charles_leclerc: NOT MY FAULT YOU’RE BOTH GOOD LOOKING?? also did you just mate zone me?

yourusername: think abt ur actions of almost killing ur bf and gf , charles leclerc.

charles_leclerc: yes ma’am🫡

username: CHAPIEY/N DUMPPP

username: leave it up to y/n to post the most bf pics of them 😫

username: i’d kill to have dealt w them my whole life miss y/n UR LUCKYY😖

username: charles is so real for almost crashing his ferrari bc y/n and pierre looked toooo good 😭

yourusername: yeah well now he’s in the timeout corner ://

charles_leclerc: this is NOT fun

pierregasly: #deserved

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; #inspectingpierresform🤓] [caption 2; complaining that i’m taking pics instead of working out 🙄🙄 #tattletale] [caption 3; wauw hot boys]

landonorris gross

landonorris dumbasses

yourusername hey 😾

yourusername they’re MY dumbasses 😪

pierregasly “pleaseee can i work out with you guys 🥺🥺”

yourusername i didn’t want to break a nail🙁🙁

pierregasly you’re so high maintenance

yourusername u have known me since 2011 WHY are u shocked

yourusername u both made me like this btw

pierregasly and we don’t regret it a bit, cherie 😁

charles_leclerc i see u liked our selfie from when u went to the bathroom to put makeup on before filming tiktoks😁

yourusername wanted to look cute for the camera and for my dumbasses can u blame a girl😖

charles_leclerc DUMBASSES?? i’m smart , pierre maybe but not me !

yourusername oh babe

yourusername u both are ! but it’s ok i love u both💓

charles_leclerc yeah yeah we love u too

username LMAOOOO THEYRE SO😭

username pierre’s ‘mom i threw up’ stance 💀

username never stop these queen

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and others !

yourusername: just me n my dumbasses against the world ❤️‍🩹

tagged; charles_leclerc, pierregasly

charles_leclerc: love u too dumbass xx

yourusername: u see i get why I called u a dumbass but why are u calling me a dumbass? do u hate me??☹️☹️

charles_leclerc: cherie no wait pls

pierregasly: im surprised you still fall for her lame sarcasm even if we’ve been dealing w her since 2011🙄

yourusername: hey RUDE ur the ones who wanted ME first 😾😾

yourusername: sorry for worrying u pooks love u xx charles_leclerc

pierregasly: love u dumbass 😪😪

yourusername: ur more of a dumbass than me

carlossainz55: can we confirm that charles is the biggest one out of you three ??

pierregasly: oh 100%😂

charles_leclerc: THATS NOT EVEN FAIR??😀

georgerussell63: idk man, i’ve received 394829 messages from y/n about being scared you’re going to burn the house down from making toast…😬😬

username: i love how they never had a honey moon phase it’s just straight bullying w a side of love 😭😭😭

username: childhood besties to lover core fr

username: THEHRE NEVER SERIOUS IM IN TEARSSSSSS

username: the pure unseriousness from chapiey/n is why i adore them sm😭😂

username: reason 92893 i adore them;

username: when the trio suddenly becomes romantic

username: u guys ever think y/n’s like ‘kissing my homies’ 🤔🤔

charles_leclerc: yes actually …..

yourusername: me n my homies doing romantic stuffs 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

username: just clocked in y/n dealt w their awkward phases

yourusername: ‘twas hell

pierregasly: like teenage u was any better 🙄

username: ‘my dumbasses’ i love them😖

[mopopshop]

ask for more and u shall receive teehee … jealous!emily has me feeling thinggggsss. can we get some hcs when ppl flirt with the reader, like her teammates or just people at bars?

Jealous Emily X Fem!Reader

i think i cooked on this one but idk 😓

she don’t play abt her girl fr, she doesn’t let any flirting of any type slide

like Hailey’s her bsf but let her get too touchy w you and Em will get so annoyed 

literally glued to you in any party/club setting 

her height is 100% an advantage like let’s say a guy at a party’s getting a little to close for comfort and all she has to do is stand in front of him, towering over the dude, and he’ll back off

she’s jealous and possessive but NEVER in a toxic abusive way

hands all over you, all the time to let people know you’re taken

she does not gaf she’ll kiss tf out of you anywhere anytime any place just to get the point across 

also very pouty about it too, like sometimes she’ll go off and sulk about it 

You’ve just pulled off from the Chic Fil A drive through and Emily’s been pretty quiet the whole drive since. She gives short one worded answers, keeping her eyes on the road.

Finally getting sick of it open your mouth to question her “Okay, what’s your deal”

“Nothing” she shrugs, eyes still glued to what’s ahead of her.

It quickly dawning on you why she’s in such a pissy mood, you start to laugh “Don’t tell me you’re mad cause the worker in the drive through said she liked my hair”

Emily roles her eyes, scoffing.

“You are!” you laugh harder, smacking her arm.

“Fuck off, dude”

“Oh so now i’m dude? Em, cmon I can’t get compliments on my hair now?”

She finally looks at you “Fuck does she needa compliment your hair for? She should be worrying about the stuff happening inside the damn store” 

“Babe, trust me when I say it’s never this deep”

“Whatever”

You role your eyes, knowing how she is. You grab her free hand that had moved from your thigh, picking it up and peppering it with kisses. “I love you, you know”

She rolls her eyes again, giving in and putting her hand back on your leg “I love you too, I guess”

all up in your instagram comments talkin abt sum “that’s my gf” “that’s my future wife” “i’m literally gonna propose to her” “stay off my girl fr” “y’all can’t fw my girl�� ALLL that she’ll make ppl know 

i’m doubling down on this, when i say she makes sure people know SHE MAKES SURE

“Absolutely! so nice to meet you to, I’m ___ and this is Emily m-“

“Her girlfriend. I’m her girlfriend. We’re dating, together 2 1/2 strong years. We’re locked in”

The team thinks it’s funny asf to flirt with you to get Emily annoyed 

Makes you wear her clothes, absolutely loves it when you do that

Loves when you wear her jersey to games 

even made t-shirt that says “I’m Emily Engstler’s girlfriend. Kindly fuck off” 

You both wear necklaces with eachothers initials 

Will bring you up hella in post game interviews so people get the hint

“Yeah I have my girl out there cheering for me..” “My girlfriends one of my biggest supporters..” “My girlfriend” “Girlfriend” “Gf” “Bae 4 Life” “Gonna get married soon” 

“You like her so much, you go fuck her see if I care” and all you did was like say thank you to a barista 

Sassy masc to her CORE and it comes out so much when she’s jealous 

“This your friend?”

at the end of the day she knows ur the one for her and vise versa and you love each other and ur gay and happy 🫡

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

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

FIVE YEARS LATER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat locks up with tears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re really not saying yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay. Weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squint at him. Liar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop.

This is. This is new.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sammy,” you sob out.

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

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

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

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

“Take it off,” he rasps.

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

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then don’t.” He begs.

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

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

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

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

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, I love you,” he moans.

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

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sammy!” You choke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me you love me again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lie to me, you’d begged him. 

…And Sam had.

_

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

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mochalate]

[intro] new notification!

msby!atsumu x reader || w/c: 560 Atsumu discovers that the only thing worse than online dating, is dating advice online. a/n: oh look at that, another atsumu fic!! this one is less stressful for me though. its pretty short, with a cute little plot that won't cause me planning paralysis. making edits for atsumu is always so fun <3 i hope you'll read it!!

[chapter 1->]

r/relationship_advice • 3 hours ago

u/fattytuna95

I want to ask out my twin brother's girlfriend.

It's not as bad as it sounds. She's not really his girlfriend.

I'll try to explain.

We're colleagues, sort of. (Me and her— I'd rather starve to death than work for my brother.)

Last month, someone took a picture of us leaving the office. I was only walking her to her car but the person who took the picture wanted to imply that we were dating.

And that wouldn't have been an easy rumour for her to handle, so I got my brother (identical twin) to post a picture with her on his socials.

Obviously, just one picture wouldn't work to convince anyone, so they've been meeting up a couple times a week (they have similar interests, so they were friends already) to be seen together.

Now here's the issue— I never saw her like that before, and I thought it was just fucking annoying to watch people be lovey dovey, fake or not... but one of my other colleagues said it sounded like I was jealous.

And fuck, I am.

Do you think she'd be mad if I asked her out? I reacted pretty badly to the original picture. And I'm worried my brother likes her for real (those photos they're posting are kind of convincing...)

Edit: for everyone asking, no, I can't ask my brother. he'll know why, and if he really does like her I don't want to mess with it. and if he doesn't he won't let me hear the fucking end of it. i can hear the best man speech already.

↑ 25 ↓ •••

u/unicornpoodle • 2 hours ago

lol dude (I'm assuming you're a dude, unless you're a girl who unfortunately is built exactly like your brother) are you sure you like her and aren't just jealous of your brother being happy? fake or not

↑ 50 ↓ •••

u/fattytuna95 • 2 hours ago yeah i'm sure. I cut out a picture of one of my teammates and pasted it over his ugly mug and it made me even angrier. ↑ 35 ↓ •••

u/msbygirlie_13 • 2 hours ago

Oh hey!! I recognise you from the atsumu miya subreddit!! That's so cool you have a twin just like him!! And his brother got a gf recently too!!! (I think they're fr tho lol.)

Okay hmmm this is a tough one. wdym when yuo said 'reacted badly'??? and what was so bad about the rumour in the first place if it's an option for you now???? this is kinda weird ngl.

↑ 42 ↓ •••

u/fattytuna95 • 2 hours ago do you really they're the real deal??? I kind of laughed. And now that I look back at it, I think I might have looked way too eager to put it out there that we weren't dating. like I was disgusted or something. :( I wasn't, I just didn't want her to have any trouble. :( :( I'm sorry, I can't explain the situation any more for privacy reasons. ↑ 20 ↓ •••

u/guiltyassassin_ • 1 hour ago

well you don't have to talk to either of them... you said someone took the original photo. maybe they're still stalking?? ask them what they think?

lmfao you guys are either celebrities or highschoolers with this kinda drama

(also you keep calling your brother ugly, but then say you guys are identical? huh????)

↑ 5 ↓ •••

u/fattytuna95 • 55 minutes ago This is kind of an insane idea, but it does make sense. Maybe I'll do it. (and you wouldn't get it.) ↑ 2 ↓ •••

first chapter tomorrow! please like/reblog/reply/send me an ask if you enjoyed it :) it keeps me going lol [my other fics->] divider: @/cafekitsune

[havocskies]

bro pls pls pls pls 🙏 do an NSFW alphabet with hobie ill do anything?!!!

HOBIE BROWN | NSFW ALPHABET

i am losing my self respect day by day.

anyway im also sorry for not posting ive been flirting w this dude for the past few days he is so cute but that will not stop me from writing for yg xoxo

╭──╯ . . . . . ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ . . . . . ╰──╮

A = AFTERCARE

- hobie is an absolute GOD at aftercare n i wholeheartedly believe this. especially when he knows he can be a bit much at times, there’s never a time where he skips out on aftercare. i think he would like to just relax, cuddle, and talk for a bit after he cleans you up thoroughly. then probably get a little treat, but he always likes to make sure you actually had fun as well. he’d put all of his attention on you way before he started worrying about himself, you’re always his priority

B = BODY PART

- i think hobie doesn’t have a MAJOR preference for anything but he seems like a thigh kinda guy. doesn’t matter the gender or size, he’s a thigh enthusiast. not always in a nasty way, he also just thinks they’re comfortable and whatnot. wear anything that shows your thighs and he is all for it 🙌

C = CUM

- im sure hobie keeps up w his health and cares for it, so i don’t think he’d taste horrible. he’s considerate guys 😭 idk if he’d really have a preference for where he cums either. probably asks beforehand or just knows what you prefer but if you’ll let him he’ll switch it up for funsies

D = DIRTY SECRET

- hobie doesn’t really keep secrets much, and i don’t think he’d be doing anything vile enough to really have to keep secrets anyway 😭 he’s just a normal dude imo but thoughts wise ?? he’s definitely imagined some things he’s too scared to talk abt im sure (take that how u will)

E = EXPERIENCE

- im sorry ik yg see him as like a sex god manwhore but i cant see it 😞 he’s spiderman he’s a nerd and he’s goofy, like yes he’s hot but he definitely fumbles without knowing the opportunity was even there LMAOO but regardless i think his body count is VERY low if not even zero. that doesn’t mean he’s ignorant, though. he’s figured out enough to know what he’s doing and what to do, he’s considerate and never wants his partner to be left out of thought

F = FAVORITE POSITION

- i can’t really see him having a favorite position i think he would’ve had little to no opinions but the moment yg find one you specifically like a lot he LOVES it. loves anything that makes you react the most, he’s such a pleaser yg cannot convince me of anything different

G = GOOFY

- yg write him to be all serious n i dont like it 🙁 he’s hobie he’s gonna crack a few jokes, especially if he’s nervous or he sees you’re nervous and he wants you to relax. probably jokes about how he’ll try his best not to send you to the hospital or wtv (he is not that confident)

H = HAIR

- hobie probably isn’t always clean shaven so he believes you don’t have to be either. still he’d at least be trimmed just to make things easier and whatnot. just his preference, whatever you do w yours he could not care less. other than that i think if sony was allowed he’d have a happy trail but unfortunately sony are pussies (im kidding)

I = INTIMACY

- i think hobie would prefer intimacy over anything else. he’d see sex as less of a pleasure thing and more of something to be shared when you’re extremely close. i don’t think sex w him would ever be meaningless, he’s always trying to show how much he loves you

J = JACK OFF

- hobie’s probably just an average dude. doesn’t do it too much bc like ?? why would he when he has you. ofc, if you’re not up to it yea he’ll go somewhere or just deal with it, you’re never obligated in his eyes. i just think he’d prefer you over anything else

K = KINK

- he’s gotta be a little freaky. like i say a lot (im sorry) he does joke abt biting, so he probably has some small kinks but i doubt anything serious. maybe at the most a very minor corruption kink, but its only about introducing you to things if you’re entirely willing. something about knowing he’s the one introducing you to it makes him wanna do it more

L = LOCATION

- hobie doesn’t strike me as a very public kinda guy. like maybe on occasion, but it’d have to be somewhere he’s pretty sure yg won’t get caught. i do think he’d prefer in your or his own home though, makes it more intimate and less stressful. he would however joke about fucking near someone yg don’t like out of spite

M = MOTIVATION

- you’d probably have to be actively trying to get him going, sex is never really the first thing on his mind. ofc it can very well happen unintentionally. i think gestures, positions, anything that shows off something ALONG WITH the clear intent will make him realize. maybe. i still wholeheartedly believe he’s pretty oblivious most of the time, he can be wanting it but he won’t realize you’re trying to make him want it. he’s a little dumb bear with him. he also just doesn’t associate revealing clothing with you wanting sex, so you’ll have to find other ways to get him to realize you want him. anyway i think mostly anything that shows off your thighs will get his mind wandering. anything that shows off their shape or just shows them off in general

N = NO

- in no way ever will you get this dude to do cnc (consensual nonconsensual) he gets sometimes its a trauma response but yg also have to remember he’d have to be getting off by pretending to assault you and i just can’t see it. he couldn’t do it, he’d rather try and help you with that trauma in other ways

O = ORAL

- happy to give always 🙌 he sees it as no different than you giving. even so, i don’t think he’d ever ask you for head. he’d see it more as a bonus, not something that’s expected in a relationship. if you’re never comfortable giving or even receiving head he will not be losing sleep whatsoever

P = PACE

- probably likes to switch it up. while i do think most of the stuff he said in his intro were jokes (runway model, inconsistency, labels, etc) i do think he does like to switch things up. he doesn’t like being limited to one thing, he likes to explore a bit and keep you on your toes xoxo

Q = QUICKIE

- hobie doesn’t strike me as someone who cares much for quickies. he’d much rather take his time, show he actually loves you. if both of yg are REALLY struggling then yg are going home, end of story. if you were to suggest a quickie he’d be unsure but he’d be willing to try at least

R = RISK

- hobie’s big risk taker im sure, but sex is a lot different than everything else. it’s a lot deeper and meaningful, so he doesn’t want to risk upsetting you or causing problems. idk if he’d even wanna risk being caught bc that’s just an inconvenience to everyone else 🙁🙁 only if it’s inconveniencing someone neither of you like i suppose

S = STAMINA

- pretty good stamina. not crazy or anything, but he can definitely go for a while. i think he finishes fairly average time but he can go multiple rounds, yk ?? like i said not a sex god guys

T = TOYS

- im sure hobie isn’t against toys at all ☠️ kinda goes back to what i said w introducing you to things. he’ll definitely try anything (as long as it’s humane 😭) and really doesn’t have much shame. take that part how u will.

U = UNFAIR

- hobie definitely likes to tease, no doubt. not all the time ofc but he can be an asshole just for jokes. if you’re genuinely upset he’ll stop. plus i think edging and overstimulating would count as something that deserves to have a conversation over first, not everyone’s completely into that and he knows full well

V = VOLUME

- i don’t think he’d be loud. not a whimperer probably but definitely a groan kinda guy. he has no shame breathing and groaning in your ear if he’s really goin (with you ofc he is)

W = WILD CARD

- switch. i think by default he’s more dom leaning but if you take that position he won’t complain, he thinks it’s hot as hell. would probably let you do almost anything to him 😇

X = X-RAY

- he’s pretty tall guys, it’s not small that’s for sure. i think honestly he’d be around 6-8, anything above is just scary in my full opinion so that’s not what he has ummm. i do think he’d be pretty normal girth. and, ofc, if he is pierced he would’ve done it himself. a stranger handling and piercing your dick is not for the weak im sure

Y = YEARNING

- probably a pretty normal/average drive. he didn’t think much about sex before you so going without it isn’t a problem for him at all. i don’t think he’d be like horny 24/7 around you, most of the time he’s just happy to be around you

Z = Zzz

- like i said w aftercare hobie prefers to stay up with you and spend time. even if it’s late at night he will try his absolute best, he’s not sleeping until he’s sure you’re comfortable and completely cleaned up. unless you like emptied his balls or destroyed him or something, then aftercare is on you i guess 🤕

[toxic3mmy]

I’m having a bad case of baby fever since I’m ovulating hard and I need fic of quackity with gf who’s ovulating like crazy and who’s begging for a baby

ooo baby fever!!! the only person in the world that i would ever want a baby w is alex😞😞 but yes, i got u my lovely <33 thx for the request

[also it cane out a bit diff than what u asked for im sorryyyy!! dont hate me bbg💔💔]

prompt: alex dealing with a baby fever filled gf

no smut but mentions of it ofc!!

everywhere you look, there’s babies. on tv commercials, at your job, even at the grocery store there’s always a baby who won’t stop smiling and cooing your way.

and who would make a cute baby? alex, your boyfriend, that’s who!

he has sparkling honey brown eyes with dark lashes framing them perfectly. his fair skin that has freckles and beautiful face moles. and his hair! he has a full head of hair that would look absolutely perfect on a sweet little baby.

lately, on your free time, you were indulging in this want and need and desire for a baby of your own. you were sneakily watching mommy and baby vlogs. you loved seeing their belly grow and their journey through their pregnancy. you even subscribed yourself to a baby magazine and it was what you looked forward to every time you checked your mail.

but you hid all of this from alex. you knew he probably wouldn’t understand. just how most men don’t understand why women obsessed over weddings and wedding planning. it also didn’t help that you were definitely ovulating.

and right now, you were sat listening to your boyfriend going on about his day. well, not really listening. more like admiring him and imagining him as a father and wow did that turn you on.

“what about you? how was your day?” alex asked suddenly

“oh, you know, i mostly just did my online coursework and cleaned the house a bit. i’ve been bored since you went out..” you said, trying to be inconspicuous

“trust me, i missed you too. now let’s eat. the food you made smells amazing” alex said, getting up to serve himself a plate

he served two plates of food, one for you and one for him. the two of you ate in mostly silence, with casual conversation here and there. once you finished eating, alex offered to wash the dishes since you did the cooking.

you sneakily pulled out your phone and scrolled through your pinterest. of course, you had baby related posts all over your feed and you loved it.

“babe.. this sponge sucks. where are the new ones we got the other day?” your boyfriend asked

“should be in the drawer next to the stove” you absentmindedly responded, eyes glued to your phone

alex opened the drawer and found your stash of baby magazines. he wasn’t blind, he knew what you had been obsessing over lately. this was the perfect time to bring it up. so he grabbed a sponge and washed the dishes. after drying his hands, he turned to face you.

“so… you’ve only been studying all day huh?” alex smirked, holding up one of your prized magazines

your eyes widened. you were at a loss for words.

“i-i uh… my sister is pregnant and um she sent me those to help her pick stuff out and—”

“hmm, addressed to our home to ms. y/n” alex interrupted

“do you think i don’t know by now? i see the way you’ve been looking at anything baby related online. i know you always volunteer to do the grocery shopping just for the chance of running into some mother with a baby… my question here is, why hide it?”

“i didn’t think you’d understand… i know how guys get when their girlfriends start talking about babies and i don’t know. i didn’t want to upset you. i didn’t want to make things weird between us..” you explained softly, expecting alex to get upset

he walked closer to where you were sitting and tucked your hair behind your ear gently.

“i could never be upset with you princesa. you don’t have to hide things like this from me. you know i love kids just as much as you do” he reassured you

you nodded sadly, still feeling a sense of guilt.

“why don’t we start trying?”

your eyes lit up and a huge grin was etched onto your face.

“you really mean it?” you asked and alex nodded with a smile on his face

“i would just adore having a little munchkin running around here. i think you’d be a spectacular mother y/n. i can just imagine them having your big ‘ol eyes and your pretty lips” he caressed your face sweetly

“and your gorgeous freckles… oh my god alex! we would have the most adorable baby in the whole wide world! do you actually want to start trying?”

“yes i do, princesa. we’re in a good place financially and also in a healthy place in our relationship. i wouldn’t want to have a baby with anyone else but you” he smiled

“you’re going to be such an amazing dad. you don’t know how much i’ve daydreamed about you holding our baby in your strong sexy arms. the way you would be super protective over them. i just know you’d have our baby on your chest at all times. you’re so innocent and precious and so so good with kids alex. you are definitely daddy material” you stood from your seat and reached out to hold his hand

“also.. i may or may not pay attention to your ovulation period…” he said seductively

“what?! why? you’re a weirdo!” you teased him

“no! i mean i pay attention to when you write those notes on our calendar! you freak” alex was red in the face and you couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered expression

while you were too busy laughing, he suddenly stood up and pushed you against the wall nearby, trapping you there.

“you’re probably really sensitive right now, aren’t you?” his voice came out in a darker tone

“m-maybe…”

“let me make love to you, princesa. quiero impregnarte ahora mismo. quiero que me sientes y que sientes que te hago la mama de mis hijos chula…” he said, making sure to kiss your neck while he spoke

all you could do was nod. his words alone made you so wet and needy for him already.

“i’ll make sure that after tonight, you’ll definitely become a mother” he smirked, dragging you to your shared bedroom

[scudslut]

em's masterlist/guidelines

fluff - 𐙚 || smut - ♱ || angst - ✾

➳ Daryl Dixon

one-shots: sins and honey flavored sweetness 𐙚 ♱ ✾ heartsease 𐙚 ♱ a summer wasting 𐙚 midnight refreshments 𐙚 a new years surprise 𐙚 ♱ lazy mornings 𐙚 stay with me 𐙚 ✾ too sweet ♱

drabbles: taste me ♱ head w/ daryl 𐙚♱ daryl’s uncut ♱ s4 daryl 𐙚 ♱ ✾

cannock chase 𐙚

➳ Scud Frohmeyer

one-shots: take me however you want too ♱

drabbles: cockwarming w/ scud ♱ scuds a slut (canonically) ♱

➳ My Edits

normy's bday dhl burn, burn, burn new bottega

please send requests!

About Me!

em | 20 | gemini

hi everyone! this is so long awaited (i’m legit so lazy) but finally i have a masterlist/about me!

╰─▸ my names emma, i’m obviously in love w daryl dixon/norman reedus. i love to write and make edits — u guys should totally follow my tiktok account @mrsemmadixon or otherwise known as scudslut;)

i met norman jdkskajajs at the nyc comic con 2023, he signed the back of my phone case, i’ll actually die on a fucking hill. yes, he’s just as godly in person.

in my day to day life i work with animals 10 hours a day, they are my main passion aside from writing and whatnot, so if i post a photo of a really cute dog i met, that’s why lmao.

i have 2 cats right now, my baby lily i got last year and sophie who i’ve had since i was a kid. typically we rescue all our animals!

i deal with extreme anxiety and depression from a major accident that happened in my life a few years ago (so if i don’t respond or have trouble posting sometimes… that’s why and i really hope everyone understands.)

I love, love, love music. I play the piano and guitar, probably not very good but who cares. some of my all time favorite artists are.. and here we go on a rampage... deftones, cigsaftersex, wheezer, nirvana, mac, frank, lana, djo, catpower, the vines, dinosaur jr, 21 sav, labi siffre, the kills, tom odell, basement, strokes, velvet underground, kendrick, norah jones, red hot chilies, the smiths, billy idol, the cure, no vacation, mazzy star, fleetwood, empire of the sun, pinegrove, otis redding, neil young, etta james, summer walker, motley crue, guns'n'roses, foo fighters, biggie, shady, drake, nelly, jay-z, $uici$ide boys, gucci, trippie... and so much more, my music taste is actually bipolar.

on that note, i actually have a playlist for daryl + norman (music he reposts/i think he’d like) lmk if u want me so share them.

i’m canadian

my parents are both extreme alcoholics, so i suffer from a multitude of childhood traumas as well as current ones. we love it here!:) but id like to think i relate to daryl in some sense, if its the only comfort i get from it.

i could live off of pasta, watermelon and coffee alone

i spend my time either at my job, reading, writing, editing or spending time with some close friends.

and that’s pretty much me!:)

please feel free to ask me questions or request fics, i will absolutely love to do them! (as long as they follow guidelines) if your unsure, just message me to clarify! i won’t ever leave u on read, i promise!

My Guidelines:

absolutely no rape/SA/even slight connotations of it.

no incest.

hitting, slapping, or any extreme violence during play, is a no. (daryl loves to smack your ass when he hits it from the back… that’s okay… but he would. not. hit you.)

age play - i will dabble in this but nothing major where reader is barely an adult. the most i’ll do is early/mid 20’s and daryl is his canon age.

oh yes, and i will write for all norman reedus characters! if you want someone else, messsage/ask me!

gifs/dividers from @cafekitsune

© scudslut - all works are my own. please do not steal, copy, translate or modify any of my work!

[saltofmercury]

that break in post was adorbs 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 if ur reqs r closed just pls ignore this (except for the first part, ur writings gorgeous) but can i req an actual breakin scenario :o like w angst maybe- maybe going further in with reader’s feelings toward konig and his “different persona” after all that happens during an actual break in when theres genuine danger

thank u!!

“The Intruder”

Summary: An intruder comes into the house with König is home with you.

A/N: let me know if I hit or missed!

It had been over 4 months since the raccoon incident. The break-ins had stopped around your apartment, König had felt better with you staying at his place. Everything seemed to go back to normal again.

During this time, König had left on a small mission, returning back almost a month and a half later. He seemed different this time around, he was more on edge, always on guard, and protective. He seemed tense, always looking around his shoulder, looking out the window, at his surroundings, at the tops of his neighbors houses, down the street from his house, it was almost as if he were wishing something would come out.

You could sense him differently too. The way he had built a routine every night on shutting and locking his doors and windows. When walking and entering shopping malls or small restaurants he would enter first almost as if to make sure it was clear and then held the door for you and gently pushed you in with his hand on your lower back.

“We’re okay babe,” you would say to bring him back to reality, and he would nod back to you absentmindedly.

Then one night, it happened. The home you and König had made together, had been tarnished.

It was right before you went to bed, you were brushing your teeth when you heard something down the hall. König had been in bed already dozing off to whatever movie he had been trying to watch for the past week. You peeked outside the bathroom,

“Did you hear that?” You said with foam running down your mouth

He was still fixated on what was on the screen.

You spit out the foam and rinsed, you called out to him

“König?”

He looked up at you, dazed, then brought back to reality with glass breaking in the background.

It was with that sound that the König you slept next to was now replaced with König, from KorTac.

Almost as if he had anticipated this, König pushed himself out of bed, reached for a knife he had stored under his bedside table, pulled the mask to conceal his identity, and then the bat he had stashed in the closet.

“König what are you doing!? — wait!” He had grabbed you by the wrist and brought you aside towards the end of the bed.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” You had to try to speak with a level head. Only you and König knew what was really waiting for the person.

“The police have nothing to do with this.” He spit out harshly, his accent coming out.

“This person comes into my home, they get to deal with me.”

Panic had bubbled into your stomach, beads of sweat behind your neck.

You heard a couple doors burst open, then one more door burst open, followed by a shrill of a voice unknown to you cry for help. You rushed to the voice.

In the middle of the living room, König had the stranger lifted up by the neck, 3 limbs moving in the darkness. You turned on the lights.

The bat König held was on the ground. You panicked, knowing König could kill the guy in an instant, you immediately began to think of a rational solution to all this. This wasn’t a KorTac mission, this was your home.

“I’ll call the police,” you began,

“I don’t need the police,” he spat out. His back still turned to you, “when I’m finished with him he’s going to have to pick up his guts.”

A chill ran through your body. This wasn’t the man you’ve shared a bed with. It wasn't the man you got to know these past months. You saw the man choking, barely moving, and rushed to his side.

“Please put him down” you pleaded, “You’re not out there right now you’re here with me.”

König dropped the man down roughly, the man coughing up and attempting to breathe again. König stood watch above the man, his gaze piercing through him, he quickly bent down towards him, the man winced in pain and fear.

You ran into the room to dial the police.

It wasn’t until the police arrived that you realized König had broken the man’s leg. The police took the report from König and collected the man, you took some breaths to collect yourself.

König had been sitting on the table playing with the knife. As if nothing had happened. Anxiety crawled back to your stomach. Would he have really killed a man inside his house?

“König—”

He wouldn’t look at you. It made you feel sick.

“K-König you could’ve killed him. In our h-home. In front of me.” You said softly. The picture of the man in a red face kept flashing back into your head.

König said nothing, toying with the knife in his hands.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? Does it not worry you that you could’ve done that in front of me?”

He peered up at you, “I told you what I was, what I was capable of.” Closing the knife up.

It sent chills down your spine. You suddenly feared to be near this person. You were terrified. Turning towards him and spoke softly,

“I’m gonna go home, I think it would be best for us to get some space after tonight.”

He didn't speak a word or try to stop you. Just as the man had encountered pain and fear from König, you just left with the same.

[jordisblogg]

instead.

shuri.u x black reader

summary: y/n, still being in her tense and dysfunctional relationship, is having problems trying to emotionally reach her boyfriend of 3 years. shuri, who’s always been there for her during the trials and tribulations of the relationship, still can’t deny her feelings for the woman after all this time, but she chose loyalty over her own personal pleasures. what happens when y/n can’t take anymore?

warnings include: cursing, aave, n-word use, weed, fluff, major angst, readers bi, arguing, readers a bit of a crybaby, protective shuri

a/n: lmk if u guys are rlly interested in this!! the more i stare at it the worse it gets to me so i decided to post it😭

prologue.

“i’m not tryna hear this fuck shit right now y/n, i already told you it’s not like that!” you both had decided to go to the club, well not decided, more like your boyfriend, quinton, forced you to go. you really had rather you stayed in your apartment, in your room, where it was quiet. you were normally one known for the party scene, but this time, for some reason. . you weren’t feeling it. you wished you had listened to your gut, but being the pleasing girlfriend you were, you sucked it up. and now here you both were, arguing, again.

“fuck shit?! nigga you were the one who letting her grind all up on you and shit!” you yelled back. were you mad? yes. were you surprised? no. not that you liked it, but it wasn’t an unoriginal sight to see your boyfriend letting someone dance on him. you couldn’t really say much, you would’ve danced on a person or two but you never let it go to the extreme, and most of the time it was your friends. you had just happened to look over at him tonight and see what was going on, what had been going on, and you decided enough was enough.

“we was just dancin’?! i don’t see what the problem is?!” he threw his arms up in confusion and let them plop back to his sides. you chuckled in disbelief, did he think you were stupid?

“dancing? shit from where i was standing y’all might as well have been dry humping each other..”

“whatchu’ tryna say y/n?”

“what the fuck you think i’m tryna’ say?” you retort. quinton shakes his head and walks into your bedroom, mumbling about ‘not having to deal with this shit’ and shuts the door behind him.

instead.

you laid on your side, your back to quinton as you stared blankly at the wall. quinton was laying on his back, phone in the air, just above his face, making sure to keep his brightness all the way down. every once and a while he would smile and bite his lip, but you wouldn’t see it.

when he finally put his phone down, he looked over at you, your back still facing him. he sighed in a little annoyance and turned over to wrap his arm around your waist. “you still mad?” he asks lowly. you don’t respond.

“c’mon bae.. i didn’t mean anything by it” he tries again. you still didn’t reply, only sinking your face deeper into your pillow. he finally gives up, shifting from underneath you and removing his arm from your side to resume his place on his back. he hears a faint vibrate from his phone and reaches for it.

this time he lets a light chuckle escape his lips.

your mind started to wander, thoughts started to form. if you caught him doing this, could he have been doing more? is he doing more? the more you laid there, the worse they got. you couldn’t take anymore.

you quickly sat up from the bed, startling your boyfriend in the process. “babe?” he called, quickly shutting off his phone. you still didn’t answer to him and just began putting on clothes and packing a night bag. that got his attention even more.

he threw the cover off his torso and hopped off the bed. he went over to you and grabbed your wrists to stop your swift movements. “w-..where are you going?” he stuttered.

“i’m going to a friends house. i’ll be back.” was all you had said after you snatched your arm out of his grip

“back? back when? tomorrow?” he inquired, following you into the bathroom as you began to grab your toiletries.

“whenever i feel like coming back” you replied, a snarky attitude laced in your words.

you stuffed the last bit of belongings into your bag, zipping it up and throwing it over your shoulder. quinton watched in shock as you slid on your crocs and grabbed your car keys off the dresser.

you didn’t say anything before you left, only sound from you was the jingling of your keys and the slam of the door as you walked out, leaving quinton on his own for the night.

instead.

as you drive down the road you could only think, there’s only one person who was able to help you, make you feel better, can comfort you best, who knew you better than anyone did. who was one of the main people to tell you not to get with your boyfriend. and god, you should’ve listened. you searched up her name on your contacts and clicked the call button.

the line rung about 3 times before someone answered, “hello?”

“hey shuri. . . do you think you can leave the door unlocked for me?”

[lewisvinga]

that’s my girl | lance stroll x fem! reader

summary; lance’s fans hated y/n for her personality and willingness to defend him and herself at any cost. however, their views on her change when a fan meets her and posts all about it

fc; tara yummy

warnings; suggestive comments

taglist; @namgification

note; requested! i’ve been obsessed w tara yummy lately but yall my requests are closed atm, i’ll open them soon once i finish w the requests i have rn 😫 so pls bear w me n be patient 🙏

masterlist !

liked by lance_stroll, lilymhe, and others!

yourusername: my man bought me chanel. sick.

username: not her not tagging lance…

yourusername: don’t want people looking at what’s mine 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

lance_stroll: acting like you weren’t begging for a bag and a pair of shoes🤣

yourusername: not u exposing me 😩

lance_stroll: just telling the truth 🤫

lance_stroll: anything for my girl❤️

yourusername: wahhh

username: i wanna be like y/n

yourusername: to be like y/n, u gotta have the y/n mindset 💆‍♀️💆‍♀️

username: she ate this tho icl

username: ugh i don’t like her, she’s such a gold digger and it’s so obvious

yourusername: gold digger is when girl receives bags from millionaire boyfriend🤕

username: she’s so ugly and unclassy, idk why lance is dating her

yourusername: you’re pretty unclassy, but while we’re at it, lance just made out w me 😁😁

lilymhe: WOWWWW you’re so hot i can treat u better than him

yourusername: i can treat u better than alex bae

liked by lance_stroll, carmenmmundt, and others

yourusername: i 🖤 st tropez

username: here she goes again w the not tagging him💀💀💀

yourusername: big deal , i’m literally sitting on him and he watched me post this 🥱🥱

username: THE SECOND PICTURE???? IS SO???😩😩😩😩😩

username: omg the second picture i’m gonna go crazy

username: who even took the last picture?

yourusername: my boyfriend 🔥

lance_stroll: beautiful as always😍

yourusername: gonna give you a big fat kiss

username: i actually like her but he’s all daddy’s money, she should date some other driver who earned his spot

yourusername: LMFAOOO, babe most drivers on the grid ARE nepo babies and come from rich families 💀 yall just mad that lawrence is a loving father 🤕🤕

username: she ate this one thing up

username: i love her idc attitude idk

username: i don’t! she’s so mean and disrespectful to lance’s fans, it’s so nasty

yourusername: no i just defend myself and lance, maybe if yall weren’t coming at my neck every 5 seconds i’d be nicer 🥱🥱

carmenmmundt: GORGEOUS 😍

yourusername: NOOO YOUU😩

liked by lance_stroll, yourusername, and others

f1wagupdates:

a fan met y/n l/n while in new york city! she said that y/n was super nice, complimented her outfit, and even introduced her to lance! turns out the black cat of the paddock is super sweet!

tagged; yourusername, lance_stroll

username: her smile :( she looks so sweet

username: ugh i love her idc what yall think

username: omg omg i was that girl, she even gave me her lip gloss bc i asked about the shade😩

yourusername: lmk what u think bb bc the formula is so chefs kiss

username: omg shes in nyc??? i need to meet her nowww

yourusername: for a couple more days, may or may not pop up in saks tmrw at noon🤭

username: y’all were just bitter she’s dating your fave!! y/n will always be her

username: u could never catch me hating on mother

yourusername: i promise you guys i’m not scary😩😩 i’ll just defend my man or myself whenever 🤷‍♀️

lance_stroll: y/n is the sweetest girl i’ve ever met. she’s made me the happiest man ever. hating on her means hating me. i would take legal action against some people who leave nasty comments but y/n’s against it. she’s the best girl i could ever ask for. liked by yourusername, f1wagupdates and others!

lance_stroll: but that’s my girl ❤️

lance_stroll: and that ladies and gentlemen is how to make the y/n l/n giggle

yourusername: STOP EXPOSING ME😖