#[also like sAM NEEDS TO LAUGH LIKE THIS MORE OFTEN]

[chxrrywines]

₊˚⊹♡ assistance | sam winchester x reader

a/n - not for kinktober just a fic i wanted to get out!! i’m unsure whether i like the dialogue on this im sorry if it sucks i feel i can never write dirty talk right *sobs* but i really hope you enjoy!!! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2k, nsfw 18+, phone sex, mutual masturbation, kind of softdom!sam, long distance, fluff, comfort, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was later than he’d liked by the time he finally got back to the motel. With muscles that ached from the day’s strain, brain fogged from how tired he was, Sam honestly just wanted to call his girlfriend and talk to her until he fell asleep.

He’d meant to text her a couple of hours prior to let her know the hunt was dragging on longer than expected, but his phone had fucking died when he and Dean were two hours into their trek into the woods to find the pack of werewolves they were hunting, and he’d been pretty miserable ever since.

Dean had disappeared off to the nearest bar after dropping Sam off at their room so he thankfully had the place to himself to mope around as he plugged his phone into the charger and showered whilst he waited for it to get some power. The shitty water pressure and barely lukewarm water did nothing for his aching back, so he was even more agitated by the time he got himself settled onto the uncomfortable mattress twenty minutes later, hair wet and skin still damp beneath his clothes with his eagerness to call her.

As much as he hated being away from her for so long, and too often, it was the safest thing to do. Sam wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something happened to her because she was too close to his shit. He still had dreams about Jess, about how that was all his fault. He couldn’t let it happen again.

His phone hadn’t even reached twenty percent but he was impatient and shuffled over to the edge of the bed so the phone cord would reach and held the phone to his ear as he called her, propped himself up against the headboard.

The phone didn’t even ring twice before she answered.

“Sam?”

“Hey, baby.” The words came out in an exhale, most of the tension left him just at the sound of her voice, the ache seeping out of his bones like a relief. It was what kept him sane whenever he was away. Her picture in his wallet, her hair tie on his wrist, her voice in his ear.

“Hi, Sammy. Got worried when you didn’t call on time.”

He winced at the thought. She worried for him, of course she did. Sam understood how horrible it must have felt for her, knowing what he was going off to do. He could only imagine the dread that must’ve curled inside of her whenever he was late calling. Too many things had happened in the past, too many things could still go wrong.

“Sorry, my phone died when we were still out, didn’t get back until way later than I thought,” he groaned, sank down the headboard a little to stretch out on the bed. The agitation still hadn’t quite left him, the stiffness in his muscles prominent. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with her in his arms and he couldn’t have it. “Miss you, honey.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she responded, “Missed you more. Wish you were here, it’s cold at night without you in bed too.”

He snorted a quiet laugh. “That’s why you miss me?”

“Mhm,” she giggled, though her voice turned a little coy as she murmured, “among other reasons.”

“Yeah?” An automatic smile was curling at his mouth.

Another little giggle through the receiver. He didn’t even need to see her to know that she had that little bashful smile on her face. He also knew exactly what was on her mind, it was on his too.

It wasn’t the first time they’d have done this. He was on the road so often that their sex life wasn’t as amazing as it could have been, and it wasn’t like he didn’t pleasure himself when he was away on hunts anyways.

There had been many many evenings he’d spent in the shower, hot water rolling down his back as he had one hand pressed to the tiled wall whilst the other pumped his cock until his cum was washed down the drain along with his shampoo bubbles. It wasn’t ideal — bottom lip tucked between his teeth to stifle the heaving breaths and quiet groans, trying to get off as fast as he could before the hot water could run out or Dean could get back to the room. It was even worse when it became a result of having her on the phone. There had been many occasions where her soft voice and giggles in his ear had been enough to get him hard, on nights when he was really missing her and it had just been too long since he’d kissed her.

It turned out she did the same as him. Though when Sam pictured it, it was a lot more graceful than his time in the shower. Laid out all pretty on their bed, legs spread, fingers wet with her own arousal as her head tipped back against the pillows. Sometimes if he got a little selfish he pictured her voice all whimpery saying his name as she came, but he couldn’t get lost in that daydream often, or he’d get hard over that, too.

“Miss you,” she breathed again, and the shift in her tone was palpable. “I… I tried touching myself earlier but I couldn’t cum without you on the phone.”

The groan that left him was automatic and his cock throbbed, hardening beneath the material of his boxers. The idea that she couldn’t even get off without his voice in her ear did wonders for him, it was a wonder his ego wasn’t too big already.

“You need my help, honey?” He crooned into the phone, settled into the tone of voice he knew she liked to hear, the voice he used more often than not when he was whispering in her ear, hips slotted between her thighs, rolling in a rhythm that left her whiney and panting.

Her soft little “mhm” was enough for him to move his other hand down and palm himself, hissing in a breath through his teeth.

“Go ahead and lay down for me, pretty girl. Wanna tell me what you’re wearing?”

There was the rustling of sheets over the phone before her voice spoke up again, “Just one of your shirts.”

Another groan. “You trying to kill me, baby?”

She giggled and his cock twitched beneath his palm. Jesus Christ he needed to get back to her, he needed her in person, to sate the need that wouldn’t be doused thoroughly enough over the phone.

“Go ahead and spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” he breathed, palming his cock again as he spoke, eyes squeezing shut as his head knocked back against the headboard. “Did you get yourself all worked up earlier, hm? Are you all soaked already?”

There was another hum, though he could hear the way her breathing had deepened, deep and heavy in his ear. He could picture the tickle of her breath on his face, the shape of her lips, the taste of her mouth after she’d just brushed her teeth. He needed her.

“Why don’t you start touching yourself for me?” He murmured, voice low with his arousal. Her resounding moan was enough for his cock to throb again and his hand finally dipped beneath his waistband, freeing himself with a quiet groan.

“Are you touching yourself too?” She whimpered, and it was a miracle he didn’t just cum there and then.

“Yeah,” his hand lifted and he tipped his head down to spit into his palm, groaning softly the next time he pumped his cock. “Yeah I am, dolly. Your pretty voice got me all worked up— fuck.” He breathed out the word between his teeth. He was already leaking pre-cum, thumbing over the head of his cock in a move that made him shudder, though it felt nice when she did it. Stroked his cock with her pretty hands, her pretty lips that wrapped around his head when she was on her knees for him, licking along the length of his dick in a way that always made him weak in the knees.

She moaned again and his hips jerked, rutting into his hand with a filthy groan. “How’re you feeling, honey?”

She whimpered, and Sam felt another dribble of pre-cum slide down the length of his cock. “Good— mm, good, j’st—” she took in a shaky breath, “feels better when it’s you, baby.”

“Oh yeah?” He grunted, pumping his cock just a little faster. “Why’s that, dolly?”

“Bigger hands,” she breathed. “longer fingers.”

Sam moaned, the idea of his fingers nestled deep in her wet heat enough for his cock to throb in his hand, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. But from the sounds of her pretty little whimpers, neither would she. “Can’t fill that pretty pussy up as nice as I can, hm?” He took in a shuddering breath. “Play with your clit for me, sweetheart.”

He could hear the moment she did, the sharp inhale, the whimpery moan, the rustling of the sheets as she, undoubtedly, spread her legs wider. “Oh god, Sammy—”

“Are you close, sweetheart?”

All he got in response was a high-pitched “uh-huh.”

“That’s it— shit, that’s it, baby,” he panted, pumping his cock faster, moaning softly as his head arched back. “Go on, dolly, make some pretty sounds for me as you cum, won’t you? M’gonna cum just thinking about you making such a mess of yourself, c’mon, baby—” he was practically begging between sharp breaths.

It only took a moment before he heard her sharp inhale and the whine that followed, and all it took was a few more quick ruts into his hand and the sounds of her before he groaned her name, toes curled and eyelids scrunched as he came. He could feel the evidence of his orgasm dribbling down his cock and his fingers as he shucked a few more times, hissing through his teeth as he finally stopped.

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathed, panting, not unlike her heavy breaths into the phone. “You sounded so fucking pretty, honey. That feel good for you?”

She took a shuddery breath and hummed again. “Yeah, thanks baby.”

Sam couldn’t help the breathy chuckle. “Don’t need to thank me,” he murmured. “M’always gonna take care of my girl, even if I’m not there. You made quite a mess of me, too.”

She breathed a laugh, and a moment passed of just their shared breathing as they both calmed down. Sam’s cock had softened completely against his abdomen, and he’d have to change his clothes and have another shower, but fuck was it worth it.

“I’ll be on my way back to you tomorrow,” he promised once his breathing had mostly evened out. “Should be with you before dinner, then you get me all to yourself.”

She yawned into the phone before mumbling, “Good, want you back to me as soon as possible.”

The sound of her so sleepy just left him so soft. “I promise I will be,” he breathed. “Why don’t you get some sleep, okay honey? I’ll call you in the morning when we’re on the road.”

“Okay,” her voice had completely softened, coated in a sickly-sweet fondness that left him putty in her hands. “I love you. Get back to me safe, okay?”

“I always do,” Sam smiled. “I love you too. Night, gorgeous.”

She yawned her own goodbye before the line went dead, and he let the phone drop back down onto the mattress with a heavy breath.

Just one more day, then he could have her in person, help her in all the ways he wanted to on the phone.

[mysterymachine67]

Concept.. grumpy!reader (male, obviously we don't have enough </3) and Dean ending up riding him 'n praising him a ton because it's the easiest way to calm down his pent-up, grouchy, boyfriend n make him feel better.

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x M!reader

SUMMARY: Dean riding you to calm you down.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

Apologies that this came out late. Also I’m trying different layouts until I find the one I like 👍🏻 So a few fic layouts probably will look different

It really wasn’t your day. You woke up in a bad mood—irritated that you didn’t get enough sleep and a lot more other reasons. They were good reasons, though. Not stupid ones. You thought it’d pass as the day progressed, but it only got worse.

Everything seemed to know you were having a bad day. You tripped on the door while coming into the bunker, missed putting your bag on the table which resulted in it falling to the ground (you swear the table moved), and that’s only two. Sam understood you were irritated, so he tried to be more patient and calm with you. Dean on the other hand still kept fucking with you, but only sometimes, not all the time. At the moment, you were unpacking your bag from a hunt from a week ago. You don’t blame yourself for not unpacking it straight away, the hunt was exhausting. Anyway, you reached for one of your T-shirts but failed to pick it up. Completely missing it. So you went to pick it up again, but failed a second time. Just as you were about to cuss out a fucking shirt, Dean walked in.

“Woah— wrong timing?” He said, with a hint of tease. You picked it up, obviously.

“Dean—“ You started, irritation clearly rising in your tone.

“Okay, okay. That one’s on me,” he said, raising his hands in the air as a sign of defeat and surrender. “What’s got you so angry anyway?” You then set your now half-full bag on the floor, and turned to face him. Starting to rant about why the day has gone so horribly. After your long conversation, Dean got closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. In an attempt for a huge. Then he kissed you, soft and gentle. “I know a way to help you calm down.” He smiled against your lips. You had a feeling of what it could be, and you were right.

—

Dean’s lips pressed against yours again. Capturing them in a kiss. His hips went down, slowly. Walls hugging your cock. You broke the kiss to look down, taking in the sight of him taking you. And once you were bottomed out the both of you took a moment. Letting each other’s hands roam while nearly making out. Dean moaned—best believe it went straight to your cock. It twitched and he felt it, letting out a small grunt. When you broke the kiss the both of you panted lightly, lips swollen and hands stopped somewhere. Yours were on his hips, helping guide him. His were on your shoulders.

“Alright— c’mon, move,” you grunted. If anything getting impatient more than feeling better. But the truth? This was in fact going to calm you down a lot more than you think.

“Be patient,” Dean whispered while slowly starting to move himself up. He kissed you again. This time more light and gentle than the previous ones. “You,” he started and pushed his hips down. “Need to really calm down.” Focusing on his face, you notice his slight smile and a small laugh. Which you rolled your eyes to.

“Yeah, well, it’s kinda hard to when you—“

“Ah, ah, ah!” He said quickly. His goal being to silence you and it worked. “This is what I’m talking about. Just be quiet and let me work my magic. Okay?” You agreed with a quiet hum, but bucked your hips.

Minutes into it, he rode you nice ‘n slow. Praises pulled from his mouth and into your ears. Was this helping you? Of course. You loved it. Rubbing your thumb at his side, and kissing him every so often. You’d try to assist him but every time he’d tell you otherwise.

Dean slowly worked you up to the edge. Lips pressing against yours; eventually to your jaw, near your ear, and your neck. With him moving up and down on your cock, the feel of him hugging you perfectly, and the praise that left his mouth, you’re sure you’re gonna have to return the favor at some point. Maybe not. Who knows?

“Watcha thinkin’ ‘bout?”

“Nothin’.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

A groan pulled from his throat when your cock prodded at his prostate. Hands gripping some place on your body to stabilize himself. You tipped your head back, sucking in a shaky breath. Eyes shutting and letting yourself relax a bit. You cursed under your breath, hips bucking up instinctively and tightening your grip on his hips. “‘M gonna cum,” you breathed out. Speaking of breathing, yours quickened and so did his. Though he kept his more controlled than you did. So, with the information that Dean was just given, he worked quicker. He leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours. It was passionate, sweet. But only lasted for a few seconds. Though he made up for it by whispering words of praise.

“Doing so good, keep focusing on me, alright? Non of that angry stuff.” The more he kept doing it the more closer you got. In only a matter of minutes did you buck your hips up, and came with a moan. Painting his walls white with your cum. Dean whimpered from the feeling. The both of your breathing soon becoming louder. He kept moving till it overwhelmed the both of you.

“Feel better?”

“A lot better.”

[goosewriting]

idk about you but joaquin drunk confessing that he's been in love w you since he first saw you is so personal to me

Enamorado

summary: Joaquín’s drunken love confession. 

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol, drunk behaviour, established relationship

word count: ~760

A/N: i’m honestly not even sure if this was meant as a request or not but it was too good not to write something for 😩💕 you're so right anon,, have this lil blurb mwah (be safe when drinking, kids)

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(title means "in love" in spanish)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Usually, you don’t go to bars much, but this time it was a special occasion, so you went out with Joaquín and Sam. Even Bucky joined you, but now that he's a proper citizen and all, he left early. 

You glance at the time on your phone, it’s 2:46 am. Looking over your shoulder from where you sit at the bar, you see Sam on the dance floor, and smile to yourself. He’s having a good time, it seems. Joaquín is next to you, and as your eyes go back to him, he’s putting down his drink he just emptied. He looks at you with a goofy grin. 

“Alright, then, that’s enough for you,” you say with a gentle smile, pushing his glass a little farther away from his hands. “Let’s take a break, yeah?”

You’re fairly tipsy yourself, but Joaquín is proper drunk now. He doesn’t let himself get to this point often. Luckily he doesn’t get angry or physical when intoxicated, instead he turns to absolute mush, incoherent mumblings about how much he loves you and Sam leaving his lips incessantly, muttering about how glad he is to be part of the group, how badly he wants to meet the Avengers. He also gets a little clingy, not that you mind. His hands will always be on you somewhere, your leg, your back, your face. 

Right now, he’s leaning his forehead on your shoulder, grumbling under his breath, but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“Wanna go take some fresh air?,” you offer.

Joaquín nods, getting off his stool, and he lets you pull him to the back, where you exit to a small patio. You breathe in the cool night air, the buzzing in your ears starting to dissipate. You lean onto the wooden fence and look out to the city below, the lights moving and dancing in the distance like a painting. Or maybe you just can’t focus your eyes right now.

You feel something warm coming up behind you, and Joaquín’s arms snake around your middle as he hugs you into his chest. He hums, swaying you both lightly from side to side, and you laugh, turning within his hold to face him, and you cup his face. His skin feels hot, and you can see the redness on his cheeks even in the dim light.

“You need to learn to pace yourself,” you say.

“Ssshuddup. Sam’s fault,” he retorts, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

“Right,” you chuckle. Sam and Joaquín did make some bet or other about how many drinks they could have before losing the ability to walk a straight line.

When he pulls back, his chocolate eyes find yours, albeit slightly out of focus, but his gaze holds so much warmth and affection, you can’t help but get lost in them. He hums again, a smile spreading on his lips. You tilt your head.

“Whatcha thinking about?” you ask.

“You.”

“Yeah?” Your heart flutters.

“Always,” he confirms.

“Anything specific?”

“I, when you…” he starts, struggling to form real words. “Desde el primer momento en que te vi…”

You chuckle, softly pinching his cheek, then cup his face again.

“English, please.”

“You, it’s always been you,” he speaks more clearly this time, and quickly turns his head to place a kiss to your inner wrist. “From the very moment I first saw you, I’ve been in love with you.”

You swallow, tears stinging behind your eyes as you smooth over his cheekbones with your thumbs. Joaquín’s hands slide from your waist to your back to push you closer into him.

“Madly,” he says, and places a kiss on your forehead. “Entirely.” Another on the tip of your nose. “Desperately.” His speech is a bit more slurred on that one, and he kisses the corner of your mouth, giggling goofily as he pulls back to look at you.

You mirror his love struck gaze, softly running your fingers through his curls before you hold the back of his head to pull him close, capturing his lips. It’s not as elegant as it could have been, kissing somewhat sloppily in the dark of night, but you can feel how earnest his words are in the way he holds you, breathes you in. And with every wet kiss he places wherever he can reach, he whispers ‘I love you’s into your skin, the press of his lips leaving a trail of fire, burning his words into your body, to remind you that you’re his and he’s yours. Madly, entirely, desperately. 

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🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie @magikdarkholme @tsunchani @Chuchu8293 @bitchy-bi-trash @guynamedaurel @crumbledcastle28 @sarahskywalker-amidala @crazy4lyricb

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

[angelkhi]

friend of a friend - b.b, s.r

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader x bucky barnes

summary: steve’s girl is feeling needy, maybe bucky can benefit from it too.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), oral (m+f), masturbation (m), wet humping, cum play, praise, steve calls her a whore like once? language, exhibitionism, voyeurism??? slight oral fixation on readers part??? yeah okay that’s it.

word count: 2.7k

a little note: i missed the boys and felt particularly unhinged. also endgame ending doesn’t exist. anyway, it’s fuckin nasty and i’m going to hell xo

You like seeing Steve like this. Boisterous and carefree, sipping a beer on the couch. It's normal. He deserves it.

Bucky sits across from him, detailing his recent mission with Sam. Their weekly chats often turned out like this, in between a short period of reminiscing and talking about whatever game had been shown that week, it always comes back to work. There's a hint of longing in Steve's voice when they talk like this. You know he misses it, how couldn't he? Its all he's ever known. But he insists he's done, and you believe him.

You're not entirely sure where their conversation is now, having zoned out some time earlier. Sat between Steve's legs, head rested on his thigh your mind had easily drifted.

You can't help your slight obsession with Steve's thighs. Even in a simple pair of joggers, the stiff outline of his toned muscles are fully on display. Each expertly sculpted ridge shifts between your cheek each time he moves or laughs. It's distracting, more than that.

You often find yourself nuzzling into the soft material just to get closer to the part of him you love so much. Steve’s fingers catch a lock of you hair, twisting and pulling on it every now and again, the action both soothing and adding to the deep tension threatening to boil over in your stomach.

His booming laugh filters through the room, his thigh flexing beneath you once more. It’s not normal, you think to yourself as you not so subtly press your skin against him, the fabric swallowing your helpless whine.

You sit like this for most of the afternoon, until it slowly turns to evening. Desperate and whining quietly to yourself. Your thighs clench periodically, and you have to stop glancing at the clock, secretly hating yourself for wishing it was time for Bucky to leave.

You’re so wrapped up in keeping your arousal at bay, in the warmth of Steve’s thighs you don’t notice the slight lull in conversation, nor do you notice Bucky leave the room to get another beer.

Steve strokes your head for a moment, his fingers igniting your skin as they slowly trail across your jaw. He tilts your head until you’re looking at him, a small knowing smile on his face.

“You doin’ okay down there?” He smiles, his thumb strokes your chin ever so gently, but the touch alone is enough to make you want to cry. Your need for him is far beyond your control and at this point, you’d take what you can get.

You nod, sandwiched between his calloused fingers and warm thigh. He tsks quietly and releases your chin, shifting back in his seat to widen his thighs. He watches quietly as your wide eyes glisten, immediately fixating on his clothed crotch.

“I’ve been neglecting my girl.” He shakes his head a little, smile turning to a smirk as he marvels in how transfixed you are. “Does my baby need some attention?”

His thumb traces your bottom lip, your mouth opening instantly desperate to taste him. You nod slightly, lips wrapped around his thumb, fingers clutching his calf tightly. He pushes down on your tongue, slipping deeper into your mouth, groaning quietly when your throat vibrates around his digit as you moan.

That slight bit of relief is enough to calm you for a moment, but your need rears it’s desperate head and you know you need more. Steve doesn’t move when Bucky walks back in and hands him a fresh beer. He just thanks him, eyes never leaving you.

Bucky isn’t phased returning to his chair without question. The idea of Bucky spectating your desperate state should be embarrassing enough to make you snap away from Steve. Instead you suckle on his thumb even harsher, looking up at him as he sips from his beer like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Steve pulls his thumb free, pressing it against your shining lip and more leans forward, the malted beverage heavy on his breath.

“M’gonna fill that pretty mouth up, just like you want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Surely he isn’t being serious. Not with Bucky watching you both. Somehow the thought doesn’t deter you as much as it adds to the growing arousal, your cunt clenching around nothing.

Your eyes flick to where Bucky is now seated. You'd believe he's as relaxed as Steve if it weren't for the beer bottle clutched between his white knuckles. His lips are slightly parted in curiosity, pretty blue eyes dark with promise, watching you and Steve.

“Go ahead.” Bucky says it so simply with an encouraging nod, taking a languid sip from his beer.

“You gonna show him how good you are for me?” You nod hurriedly, watching as he puts his beer down, and does only that.

“Gotta hear the words honey.” His hand rests on waistband of his sweats, waiting.

“Please.” You speak through your the foggy haze clouding your brain. “Let me suck your cock, Stevie.”

“Attagirl.” He pulls down the elastic, letting it rest just below his knees. He knows how much you love his thighs, and secretly loves the way you mark them up, claiming another part of him that he gives to you so willingly.

Unsurprisingly, you press your lips to his inner thighs the first chance you get. The light dusting of golden hair tickles your lips when you suck dark bruises onto his unmarred skin, lightly tracing them with a light scrape of your teeth, earning an illicit moan from him.

When you’ve had your fill of his broad thighs, they’re littered with tiny marks and the slightest indent of your teeth in certain places.

Your finger lightly traces the underside of his cock, trailing up to the head and stroking over the slit. It shines brightly under the dim light and you actually salivate knowing you get to taste him. You marvel at Steve’s dick each and every time you see it, it’s curve feels perfect inside of you, the slight girth stretching you out so fucking good, length hitting all the right spots.

You wrap your hand around him in a tight fist, squeezing at the base just how he likes. His head rests back on the couch cushion, exposing his neck. His muscular chest begins to rise and fall slightly quicker as you stroke him.

Finally, you sink your mouth onto him, not bothering to tease him any further, this is for you after all. He’s letting you suck him off in front of his best friend to satisfy your needs, the least you can do is make it worth while.

You bob your head, alternating between long slow strokes and quick harsh suckles. Your hands tug at him, twisting around what you can’t take, revelling in his slight reactions. The way his thighs tense beneath your fingers, the way he sucks in sharp breaths and shudders out increasingly loud groans.

You wonder for a second if this isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. It spikes a sense of jealously in your chest and you swallow him down even further, not caring that it burns your throat. Pride blooms in your chest when he grips your hair, holding you in place, groaning deeply.

"So good. So good to me." His hips flex, pushing himself against that spot again. "You gonna be this good for Buck? You gonna suck his cock like a fuckin champ?"

You moan around him when he speaks, doing your very best to take him as deep as you possibly can. Your throat closes around him as you gag slightly, the slight brush of his hair ticking your skin.

"That's my girl." His hand rests over yours, hissing when your nails dig into his exposed thighs. He thrusts slowly into your warm mouth, hitting the back of your throat softly, watching as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

His thrusts grow harsher, as does his grip on your hair, but that hand covering yours, the way his thumb strokes reassurance into your skin keeps you grounded. You feel that familiar twitch in your throat as you prepare to take his load, but then he’s tapping you hand and pulling you away from him ever so gently.

You find yourself pouting, desperate to have him fill your mouth again, but then he looks behind you and speaks.

“Go see Buck, looks like he could use some help.” He swipes his thumb through the spit on your chin, and nods to his friend.

The carpet is plush beneath your burning knees and you find yourself crawling between the other man’s thighs. Bucky strokes himself slowly, watching you quietly with that predatory gaze.

He’s not as long as Steve, but where he lacks he makes up for it in girth. Soft veins protrude from beneath his weeping head and you’re sure if you look close enough, you’d see them pulsating with need.

You cover his hand with your own, watching him twitch in your palm, stroking him a few times in a tight grip. You lean forward and swipe your tongue across the rosy head, eyes solely on him. He sighs, shoulders relaxing, his cheeks flushed all sweet and red.

Your tongue is so warm and wet against him as you swirl it across his skin for a few moments before you finally take him in your mouth. It’s vastly different to Steve, the way your mouth stretches wider around him. His head prods the back of your throat slightly quicker, but the thickness has the same effect on your gag reflex.

You get lost in the unfamiliar taste, the slight musk that’s just so Bucky. Steve comes up behind you, tugging at your leggings, keeping you steady with one hand as he pulls them off with the other. He swipes them down, taking your ruined panties with them, discarding the soaked cotton and gripping your thighs, spreading you wider.

“God Steve, she’s a fucking pro.” Bucky’s usually deep voice is instead breathless when he speaks Steve over your shoulder. Steve chuckles knowingly, his hand caressing your bare skin.

“You hear that honey? You’re being so good for us.” You hum in acknowledgement, the praise going straight to your core.

For a moment he just stares at the slick coating your thighs, drawing small patterns across your skin. The moment is strangely intimate, made so by Bucky’s thumb brushing your cheek as he slowly starts to thrust into your mouth.

You feel Steve’s hands resting on your ass before he spreads you open, cool air against your warm wet heat causing you to sigh. He licks a single stripe from your clit, right to your dripping hole, pausing to hear you moan around Bucky’s cock before he does it again and again and again until he’s nose deep in your pussy.

You brace your hands on Bucky’s thighs. breath coming in short pants out of your nose. Steve’s lips wrap around your swollen nub, suckling harshly as he shakes his head, the friction making your eyes roll. His nose prods at your hole, and your nerves are on fire.

You suck harder on Bucky’s cock, alternating between stroking him whilst you lick and suckle on his heavy balls. You feel the ghost of Steve’s fingers against your slit, whimpering when he slides a single finger in right to the knuckle. He works you open slowly, stretching your wet cunt around his finger before adding a second, hooking them inside of you.

Between Bucky fucking your throat and Steve lapping at your cunt like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, you’re not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You want to whine when he pulls his mouth away from you, but the fullness of his fingers satisfies your simmering need.

“Look at you, letting my friend fuck your throat right in front of me.” His fingers don’t let up, bordering on the sweet side of harsh.

“Stevie, fuck that’s so good.” You sound as desperate as ever, lost in Steve and Bucky’s touch.

“Bet you’d let him fuck this pretty cunt if he asked, huh.” Of course you would. The thought alone is wildly arousing. Steve chuckles through his quiet grunts when you clench around him, curving his fingers ever so slightly.

“My pretty little whore.” He half chuckles, though it’s mostly a groan.

He sucks at your clit once more, fingers hooked inside of you and you’re a goner. You pull your mouth away from Bucky, stroking him instead as you gush slightly against Steve’s face. Bucky thrusts up into your hand at your loud moans that only spur Steve on, the orgasm so intense it makes your body slump against Bucky’s thigh.

You find the energy to take Bucky back into your mouth, letting him thrust against your tongue, taking what he needs.

His hips jut harshly, prodding the back of your throat. His hand moulds around the curve of your skull, fingers threaded through your hair guiding your movements. He’s quiet compared to Steve, not speaking unless it’s a quietly muttered fuck, or so good. Sometimes he’ll groan, deep and guttural, but others he’ll catch himself on the edge of a whimper.

Those are your favourite. Making a man as stoic and quiet as him whimper is soon to be your greatest triumph.

You brace yourself on his thighs, shifting one of your hands to wrap around his thick shaft. You work quickly against him, twisting and flicking your wrist, running your thumb just below his weeping head, pressing stray kisses to the bulging veins.

“Buck, put her on your lap” Steve speaks from behind you, squeezing your thigh before Bucky helps you up, manoeuvring your near boneless body on top of his thighs. The bright tip of his cock, smooth with a mix of precum and your spit, nudges your sensitive slit.

You flatten your palm on the underside of his dick, caging him in, grinding your slick cunt against him. He thrusts against you, chasing his release, resolve depleted as he whimpers into your neck. The sound alone is enough to send you over the edge. You keep your eyes on Steve as he watches your cunt writhe against Bucky. There’s a new hunger in his eyes, something you’ve never quite seen before.

Steve sits back on his calves, his fist working over his pretty dick as he watches you cum for a second time, only this time it’s against his best friends cock. He looks so pretty, with his hooded eyes and flushed cheeks all traces of his dominant nature drowned out by his desperation.

Bucky’s whimpers grow louder and his teeth brush against your skin. The hold he has on your hips tightens as his thrusts grow sloppy, and his teeth dig into your shoulder, a truly broken moan shattering through him as he cums. Ropes of white land on your mound, dripping down your slit. You can’t help but moan when he thrusts one final time, his sticky spend and your slick making a near diabolical sound

Moments later Steve, pushes himself up onto his knees, fucking his fist harshly, pushing himself over the edge with a deep, almost growl. You watch through tired eyes when he cums all over your messy cunt, faint droplets of white mingling with Bucks.

He leans back, taking in the sight of your ruined cunt, chest heaving. His fingers prod at your puffy slit one final time, swirling around in the mess three of you had made before he extends his hand to your already open mouth. You suck at them like a woman starved, tongue lapping at the digits until they’re instead slick with your spit.

A silence stretches between the three of you for a moment, before Steve stands, and ticks himself into his sweats. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“So proud of you. You did so well.” His large hands cup your face, eyes searching yours for any discomfort. He finds none.

You watch him leave to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom whilst Bucky presses small kisses to your marked skin and thanks you. You hum, too dazed to speak. When Steve returns, Bucky disappears into the kitchen for a few moments, returning with three bottles of water.

As you slump against the chair, Steve running a warm cloth over you and Bucky holding the water bottle to your lips, you look over at the clock again watching it tick, willing it to stop, hoping that Bucky doesn’t have to leave.

i think we all know by now everything i write sets back feminism a few hundred years. i’m very sorry and i will do it again.

[alessandra-14]

A slip of the tongue

Dean Winchester x sister!reader and slightly Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Summmery: After a tough hunt, leaving the three hunters bruised and hurt and Dean angry at his little sister. But when she slips up and calls him "Dad," everything shifts.

Warnings: none really

(It's been requested weeks ago but I just now I managed to get it done)

Being raised by two older brother who don't really know what they're doing, may not be to ideal but for Y/N that's all she could have asked for.

Their dad was rarely ever home, usually away on hunt and blinded by the need to revenge his wife. So Dean and Sam had no other choice than to step in and raise her to be a strong smart woman. And she wouldn't trade that for anything in this world.

Like that one time when Dean tried to get her ready for the day.

“Sam, do you know how to braid hair?” Dean asked, frowning at the tangled mess called a ponytail. She was 5, sitting cross-legged on the motel bed, flipping through an old, dog-eared picture book.

“No, but I’m not the one who promised she’d look like a princess today,” Sam shot back, rolling his eyes. He was fifteen, gangly and awkward but always ready to help.

Then Dean also rolled his eyes and glared at his little brother. "You know you don't have to be so sassy all the time Sammy." He sayed in an obnoxiously annoying tone, to which Sam didn't say anything further.

Dean huffed, trying to mimic the motions he’d seen in some movie Y/N had made them watch. “Hold still, kid. You’re gonna look amazing.”

Or that time when both brothers decided to take her to the fair after she had been begging to go there for days.

The fairground lights twinkled and Y/N was full of energy, practically dragged her brothers toward the entrance.

“Dean! Funnel cake first! No, wait—the merry-go-round!” she shouted, her voice rising above the carnival buzz.

“Slow down!” Dean laughed and quickly tried catching up to her. Sam slightly less enthusiastic, rolled his eyes but followed close behind.

They played games. Dean won her a stuffed lion and they shared a funnel cake, When they reached the ferris wheel, Y/N squeezed into the seat between her brothers, resting her head on Dean’s arm.

“This is the best night ever,” she whispered already sleepy and exhausted after this fun night out.

Dean smiled, pulling her close. “Yeah, kiddo. It is.”

But their lives weren't always fun and peaceful. More often than not it was the complete opposite. John's anger, the constand yelling and fighting between Sam and John, the hunting. Oh especially the hunting.

The two brothers were never a big fan of taking her with them on hunts but John insisted she had to learn, so they hadn't much of a choice than to agree. But after seeing how good she actually is at this they decided to let her tag along even after John was long gone.

The Impala’s rumble was a soothing constant, a reminder of safety despite the chaos that had just unfolded. Sam’s face was taut with worry as he pressed a blood-soaked rag against her arm, the gash beneath stinging like fire. Dean’s jaw was clenched as he drove like a mad man, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Y/N sat in the backseat, trying not to wince every time the car hit a bump. Blood was soaking through her white shirt, but she knew better than to complain about a piece of clothing at the moment. Even if she really loved that shirt.

The hunt had gone sideways—what a surprise.

Dean and Sam had both sworn to protect their sister at all costs. But lately, she’d been trying to prove she could handle herself, trying to show them she wasn't just the kid tagging along anymore.

It was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. Ghosts were her bread and butter. Something relatively easy to handle. But this one had been different. Angry. Vengeful. And ridiculously fast. Before anyone could react, it had slashed at her, sending the girl flying into a set of windows.

“Pull over,” Sam said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but firm. “I need to stitch this up before she loses too much blood. We've wasted to much time so far."

Dean didn’t argue, which was how she immediately could tell he was mad. He pulled into the parking lot of a dingy gas station, threw the car into park, and slammed the door shut behind him as he got out.

Sam turned to his sister, pulling out the first-aid kit. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth.

Sam sighed but didn’t push it. His hands were steady as he threaded the needle and got to work, his murmured apologies lost in the sharp sting of every pull. Y/N tried to focus on the familiar sounds of Dean pacing outside the car, his boots crunching on gravel.

When Sam finished, he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and got out to check on Dean. The girl was alone for maybe thirty seconds before the driver’s side door opened and Dean slid in loudly. He turned to face her, his green eyes scanning her pale and tear struck face and then her bandaged arm.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“I’m fine,” She muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“Fine?” His voice was sharp, edged with frustration and anger. “You know you could’ve died back there.”

She flinched at his firm tone. “I wasn’t trying to get hurt, Dean.”

“You think that matters?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be careful. You’re supposed to stay back and let us handle it. We know what we are doing!”

“I know what I am doing too and most importantly I’m not a little kid anymore!!”

“Well, you sure as hell act like one sometimes!”

The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. Y/N looked down at her lap, blinking back tears. She knew he didn’t mean it—not really. Dean was scared. He always got like this when something happened to her or Sam. But that didn’t make it sting any less.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after an intense silence.

Dean sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. His voice softened. “I just—damn it, I can’t lose you. You get that, right? You and Sam… you’re all I’ve got.”

The tears she’d been holding back spilled over, and before she could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“I know, Dad.”

The silence that followed was definitely awkward.

Her heart sank as soon as she realized what she’d said. “I—I mean, Dean. I didn’t mean. I—”

But he didn’t look angry. His eyes widened for a moment, then softened into something she couldn’t quite place. He reached out, his calloused hand gentle as it gripped her left hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, cutting off her rambling. “It’s okay.”

She looked at him worried and confused, her bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, you did,” he said, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And it’s okay. You’re my kid as much as you’re my sister. Hell you’ve always have been.”

The weight of his words settled over her, warm and reassuring. For the first time since she’d climbed into the Impala, the tightness in her chest loosened even for just a moment.

“Thanks, Dean,” She whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he said gruffly, though his hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled away. “Just… stop scaring the crap outta me, alright?”

She nodded, a small smile breaking through. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” He started the car, the familiar rumble filling the space and waited for Sam to come back in too. “Now, let’s get you patched up for real. And next time, you’re wearing body armor, I don’t care how stupid it looks.”

Sam climbed back in, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in mood but wisely deciding not to comment. As the Impala roared back onto the highway, Y/N leaned her head against the window, a strange sense of peace settling over her.

Dean might not have been her dad in the traditional sense, but in every way that mattered, he was. And now, she didn’t have to pretend otherwise.

[holdinggrudges]

oxytocin - sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, porn without plot, genuinely there is no plot, fem!reader, established relationship, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, edging, dom/sub dynamics like..a little bit, soft dom sam, size kink but also only a little bit, no use of y/n

word count: 2.3k

summary: Sam has a thing about control. So when the pieces don’t quite fall into place—when a hunt goes a little sideways, for example—Sam can get a little…twitchy. Antsy, irritable. What you’ve learned, though, is that it’s all too easy to give him back that control. To let him take it from you.

notes: i thought this was finished two days ago and then ended up writing, like, a thousand more words. whoops. anyways uhhh...i've never written anything quite like this before (this is my first ever legit pwp lmao) so uhh if it sucks don't tell me i'll cry.

crossposted on ao3

Sam has a thing about control. You can’t fault him, of course; it’s actually sickening to think about how often his autonomy, his freedom of choice, has been wrested from him. Him turning into a bit of a control freak seems, frankly, like the best case scenario. It does mean that when the pieces don’t quite fall into place—when a hunt goes a little sideways, for example—Sam can get a little…twitchy. Antsy, irritable; you love him to death, but he’s a damn terror to be around when a hunt doesn’t go your way. What you’ve learned, though, is that it’s all too easy to give him back that control. To let him take it from you.

Two thick fingers press into your cunt, slow and leisurely, like he’s got all the time in the world, like you’re not falling apart in his lap. Like he doesn’t have you so wet it’s probably dripping down his wrist. He has your legs hooked over his, keeping you spread and open for him as he teases you. His smirk presses to your temple, your cheek, just below your ear as he plasters your face with soft kisses. “You’re doing so good,” he mutters, his lips brushing against your neck with the praise. “So perfect for me, you sound so pretty like this. Tell me when you’re close, okay, baby?” 

God, you’re not sure you’ll ever get there like this. “Sam, please.” You’re not above begging, not in the slightest, especially not right now. You feel like you’ve been here for hours, panting and whining on Sam’s lap. For fuck’s sake, you’ve still got your sweater on.

You feel more than hear the little laugh your whine drags out of Sam, a rumble in his chest where you’re plastered against him, a puff of air against your throat. “You need some help? Hmm?” he asks, dragging his unoccupied hand up your stomach and rucking your sweater up as he does. At the same time, his fingers curl inside you, stealing your breath and sending your head lolling back on his shoulder. 

“God—” Your hands scramble to grab onto something, anything, searching for purchase. In the end, one lands on Sam’s wrist as his hand cups your breast, the other grasping at the sheets below you, twisting them in your grip. 

His thumb brushes over your nipple, drawing a choked whimper from your throat. “Answer me, baby. Can you come like this, or do you need more?” 

How are you even supposed to think like this, let alone speak? “Fuck, Sam—” you manage to babble out, turning your head to hide in the crook of his neck. The smell of him floods your senses, pine and musk and just a little bit of sweat that lets you know he’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be. “More. I need more, please.” 

“There you go,” Sam coos at you. Then he shifts the angle of his hand so the meat of his palm grinds against your clit with every thrust of his fingers, dragging a guttural moan from your throat in the process. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? My good girl.” 

Curses spill from your lips like a chant as everything ramps up tenfold and leaves you struggling to keep up. Sam’s fingers, practised and precise, drag against your g-spot with every thrust and, combined with the pressure against your clit, they have you moaning and babbling incoherent pleas in moments. Your chest heaves with your panting, gasping breaths as the pressure in your gut grows and twists and builds until it threatens to send you careening over the edge. 

Sam’s wrist twists in your grip until you release it, letting that hand fall to white-knuckle the sheets below you with the other one. With his hand newly free, Sam draws his fingertips along your jaw and tilts your head up until he can see your face. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, sweet as candy, as if he’s not taking you apart. “Talk to me, baby. How’re we doin’?” 

Oh, he’s such a dick; he knows how you’re doing. Your pussy is pulsing around his fingers like a heartbeat, he knows damn well. He just wants you to say it. But you know what game you’re playing. “Sam…”

He presses his thumb to your lips, and his turn down on a frown that you know—you know—is performative, but that puppy look still digs its claws into your head. “Come on.” 

“Oh, fuck—” Sam curls his fingers, and your gut pulls so tight you almost forget to breathe. “Okay, I’m close, God, Sam, please—” You know it's coming, but it still comes as a stone cold shock to your system when Sam’s fingers still inside you and the pressure of his palm disappears from your clit. Your cunt flutters as the bliss that had been moments away fades out of reach; your thighs futilely trying to close, press together, but you're stopped by Sam’s legs holding them open. 

Sam carefully unsheathes his fingers from your cunt, and you could damn near sob.

He coos over the sound of your whine. “I know. But you're so pretty like this, sweetheart, so good for me.” His hand leaves your face to catch yours as you reach down to finish the job yourself, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Uh-uh. You trust me, don't you, pretty girl? I’ll take care of you.”

  You narrow your eyes, glaring even as you twist your hand to tangle your fingers with his. “You’re evil.” 

His laugh puffs over your lips as he leans down to press a quick kiss to them. It’s a little uncoordinated, and certainly not the best angle. But it’s a sweet apology. “Maybe I just thought you'd rather come on my cock.” 

Your next inhale is sharp, a response to the way his words make your neglected pussy flutter. You twist a little further, your nose bumping his with how close you are. “Are you gonna let me?” you ask, and your lips brush against his as you speak. 

He hums, and his eyes crinkle with the grin that he presses to your lips. “Say please—” he murmurs, the words washing over you like a wave— “and maybe I will.” Your hand tightens around his.

God, but if the power trip doesn't look good on him. The word comes out on a breath, just barely a whisper of, “Please.” 

Sam swallows the plea with a kiss, draws a gasp out of you as his teeth sink into your bottom lip and tug as he pulls away. “Please…what?” he urges, dragging a line of hot, open kisses along your jaw and down the line of your neck. “Come on. You want it, don’t you? Use your words.” 

You tip your head back, and you’re sure Sam feels you swallow around your need because the next kiss he lands on your throat is biting. “Please,” you say again, “please let me come on your cock.” 

Sam’s smile against your throat is so bright it almost burns, and he releases your hand from his grip. “Anything for you, baby.” He presses one last kiss to the base of your neck before his hands come up under your thighs, lifting you off his lap. “Come on.” 

You help him maneuver you until you’re laying on your back on the bed, and you take the opportunity to stretch your legs out, groaning at the stiffness from having them in that position for so long.

Sam kneels beside you, his hands squeezing at your thighs. “You alright?” he asks. His hands smooth up your legs to your hips before he draws them back down again in a pseudo-massage. 

You nod. “I’m okay,” you tell him, and then you let your thighs fall open to make room for him. You get the pleasure of watching his eyes snap from your face to your cunt, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. “Want you.” 

He lifts his gaze to yours again, and he holds it as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down and off.  “Whatever you want, beautiful,” he says, climbing over you and settling with his hips between your thighs before he pulls his shirt over his head. He tosses it aside and braces his hand beside your head.

Entirely shameless, you reach out to press a hand to his chest, admiring the solid planes of his stomach flexing as he holds himself up to hover above you. His muscles shift, a body perfectly designed to drag the tip of his cock through your folds. Your breath catches in your chest, your hand smoothing up and over his shoulders to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

He smiles, then his hand settles on your thigh. “C’mere,” he mutters, drawing your leg up over his hip. Your other leg follows suit, your ankles crossing. Keeping him close. “There you go.” With that, he presses inside you. He slides in easy—you weren’t exactly hurting for prep—but the stretch of your cunt around him still has you groaning in tandem with him. 

“Fuck, Sam—” you gasp as he bottoms out, his hips kissing yours. Somehow, you always manage to forget just how big he is until you’re so full you feel like you can feel him in your throat. 

Sam’s hand that’s not currently holding him up drags the hem of your sweater up until it’s bunched around your shoulders, leaving you, essentially, bare for him. He trails his fingers down your torso, watching the goosebumps that bloom on your stomach as he traces your skin. “Good?” he asks, his voice tight with the effort of keeping still inside you. 

“Yeah. So fucking full,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your breast. “But yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good.” He draws out, dragging along your walls until only the tip is left inside, and you brace for the punch of the next thrust. But it never comes. He lingers, teasing, until you open your eyes to see him smirking down at you. “You wanna beg for it?” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, pressing your heels into his back in an effort to press him forward. He doesn’t budge. 

“I think you’re gonna,” he says, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw. “You wanna come? All you have to do is say please—” He brushes his thumb over your pebbled nipple, pulling a whimper from your throat— “and then I’ll fuck you so good, you know I will. Just let me hear it.” 

You turn your head to face him, staring him down, breathing in his air as you consider his proposal. You lift your head to brush your lips against his. “Please fuck me.” If you hadn’t been paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed, but his hand flexes just so where he’s cupping your chest. “Sam. Please.” 

Sam draws you into a proper kiss at the same time he slams home into you. Although, a proper kiss is maybe not the best way to describe it. It’s more Sam licking into your open, panting mouth, swallowing the desperate, airy moans that his thrusts are punching out of you. The pace he sets isn’t fast, but it’s deep, and with his tongue on your mouth and his hand on your tits, it feels like you can feel him everywhere, like there isn’t a single part of your body that isn’t being consumed by him. 

“My beautiful girl,” Sam rasps as he pulls away. He drags kisses down your neck, and then skips right over the bulk of your sweater to scrape his teeth over your nipple at the same time his fingers pinch at the other. Your chest spasms on a sobbing moan, your nails scraping down his back, aching for purchase. The feeling is overwhelming, lighting up every nerve ending you have until the only thing you can think about is Sam—Sam’s mouth on your chest, Sam’s voice soothing heated skin, Sam’s fucking cock taking you apart. “You sound so wrecked, baby, look at you.” 

“Sam—” His name drips from your lips like a mantra, over and over and over like it’s the only thing you can say anymore. You’re so close, teetering so close to the edge that a light breeze could push you over. “God, please—” 

His hand abandons your chest, smoothing down your ribs and over your hip bone. “I got you. I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he says, and then he flattens his tongue over your nipple as he shoves his hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. 

It’s over—your whole body trembles with it, and you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you. Sam’s hips stutter where he’s fucking you through it, and then you feel him spill into you, the spasms of your pleasure having pulled him off the cliff right along with you. 

“Oh, fuck—there you go,” he gasps, his hips slowing to a stop as you both ride out the recovery. “So perfect, so good for me.” 

With the last of your energy, you lift your hands to his face to drag him into a spent, sloppy kiss. “Took such good care of me,” you mutter into his mouth, shivering while he takes the opportunity to carefully slide out of you. “Love you so much.” 

In a few minutes, the two of you will have to stumble out of bed to the bathroom, clean up and truly recover. But right now, Sam’s smile against your lips warms your chest enough to forget about his cum dripping from your cunt. “Love you too.” 

[societyfolklore]

Plus One

Title: Plus One (Prompt- who invited them to the holiday party?) Pairing: Loki x SHEILD Agent!Female Reader

Summary:  Thor brings Loki along to the Avengers Christmas party, and no one-not even you-was prepared for it. A night of tension and unexpected moments leads to revelations that are far from festive.

Word Count: 4.5k (woah this got away from me…)

Warnings:  /Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, smut, DARK-ish (just Loki being Loki really) fingering, Unprotected sex Not Beta read.

A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge …. Day 21

The annual Avengers Christmas party was the kind of event that had its own gravitational pull. No one dared to skip it-Tony Stark’s reputation for ‘over-the-top’ festivities guaranteed a night to remember (and sometimes regret). The compound sparkled with festive charm, every inch of it covered in twinkling lights, tinsel, garlands, and a seemingly endless supply of mistletoe that Tony had strategically placed to stir up drama.

You’d been looking forward to the party for weeks. It wasn’t often the team had an excuse to let their guard down and embrace something as simple as holiday cheer. If you were honest with yourself, it was also a chance to see Thor. The Asgardian always brought a sense of camaraderie to these events with his booming laughter and stories of Yuletide traditions from another realm, plus who didn’t like a chance to swoon a little over an ‘God’.

The night began as you expected-Natasha at the bar, teasing Clint about his questionable sweater; Sam and Bucky in a competitive battle of holiday trivia that was growing increasingly loud and animated; and Steve doing his best to avoid being cornered by overly curious SHIELD interns. It was chaotic, warm, and exactly what you needed.

At least, until you saw him.

You’d been mid-conversation with Wanda when the room seemed to shift. A ripple of unease spread through the crowd, subtle but undeniable. Curious, you turned your head and there he was. Loki.

Standing by the bar, drink in hand, the God of Mischief looked entirely too at ease in a room full of people who’d rather not be in his company. He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit that somehow managed to feel more threatening than festive. His jet-black hair was swept back, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the room with a lazy confidence that set your teeth on edge.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your drink momentarily forgotten.

Wanda followed your gaze, her brow furrowing. “Thor brought him,” she explained quietly. “Apparently, he didn’t want his brother to spend the holidays alone.”

“That’s… considerate,” you replied, though your tone dripped with scepticism. “But Loki? At a Christmas party? This has disaster written all over it.”

Wanda shrugged looking back at you. “He’s been calm so far, charming even. Maybe he’ll surprise us.”

You snorted. Loki wasn’t the kind of person who ‘surprised’ people in a good way.

As if sensing your thoughts, Loki’s gaze locked onto yours from across the room. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk that made your stomach twist. He raised his glass slightly in a mock toast, his expression equal parts amusement and challenge.

You turned back to Wanda, doing your best to ignore the flush creeping up your neck. “This is going to be a long night.”

Moments later, you found yourself seeking out Thor, hoping for some kind of explanation. You spotted him near the buffet table, a plate stacked high with what looked like an alarming combination of turkey and dessert pastries. He was laughing boisterously at something Steve had said, completely at ease despite the tension his brother’s presence was causing.

“Thor,” you said, cutting into the conversation. He turned to you with his usual wide grin.

“Ah! Seasonal Salutation! M’lady” he greeted warmly. “Have you tried the pudding? A most peculiar flavour but quite delightful.”

You waved off the question, getting straight to the point. “What is he doing here?”

Thor’s grin faltered slightly, and he glanced over his shoulder as if to confirm who you meant. “Loki? Well I- He had nowhere else to go for the holidays. It seemed cruel to leave him to his own devices.”

“Cruel to him or to us?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You seriously thought this was a good idea?”

Thor sighed, his expression softening. “I understand your concerns, but he is my brother. I could not bear the thought of him alone on such a joyous occasion. Besides,” he added with a wink, “he promised to behave.”

You raised a sceptical eyebrow. “And you believed him?”

Before Thor could answer, a shadow fell over the two of you. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The air seemed to grow colder, and a familiar voice, smooth and laced with amusement, cut through the festive noise.

“Talking about me already? How flattering.”

Loki stepped into view, his smirk firmly in place as his sharp gaze flicked between you and Thor. “I wasn’t aware I warranted such attention.”

Your jaw tightened, but before you could fire back, Thor clapped Loki on the shoulder, his usual jovial demeanour returning. “We were just discussing how you’ve managed to behave yourself so far. A true Christmas miracle!”

Loki’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a glint of something darker in his eyes as he turned his attention to you. “I aim to please.”

Your stomach flipped, though whether it was from irritation or something else, you weren’t sure. “Let’s hope it stays that way,” you said coolly, brushing past him before he could see just how much his presence was affecting you.

As you walked away, you could feel his gaze following you, burning into your back. This was definitely going to be a long night.

You drifted toward the far corner of the room, seeking refuge from Loki's piercing gaze that still lingered in your thoughts. The dessert table became your sanctuary, a whimsical display of Tony’s flair for the extravagant. Gingerbread skyscrapers stood proudly next to meticulously crafted snowman macarons, their glossy surfaces glinting in the ambient light. A fountain of eggnog, complete with a miniature motorized sleigh circling its base, gurgled in the background, adding a surreal charm to the festive scene.

You allowed yourself a brief moment to breathe, reaching for a chocolate-dipped strawberry and savoring the rich aroma of cocoa and ripe fruit. It was grounding, a small indulgence that pulled you back from the tension threatening to coil too tightly in your chest.

But the respite didn’t last long.

“Avoiding me already, darling?”

The familiar voice sent a jolt through you, smooth as velvet yet edged with a playful sharpness. Your hand jerked slightly, the strawberry wobbling precariously between your fingers. You turned your head sharply, meeting Loki’s unyielding gaze. He was closer than you’d expected, his tall frame looming with an ease that spoke of his predatory confidence.

His presence was suffocating in the most maddening way, and yet you couldn’t tear your eyes from him. Dressed to perfection, the crisp lines of his suit contrasted against the effortless way he commanded attention, even in silence. The faint scent of something rich and foreign clung to him-spices, leather, and an undertone of frost that teased at your senses.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you replied coolly, forcing your voice to remain steady despite the quickened thrum of your pulse. You deliberately brought the strawberry to your lips and took a bite, savoring the sweetness as a distraction. “I was enjoying the party. Something you seem to be incapable of doing without making it about you.”

Loki’s laughter rumbled low and deep, like distant thunder, curling around you in a way that made it hard to breathe. “Oh, I’m quite capable of enjoying myself, believe me,” he said, his voice layered with dark amusement. “I just find these… mortal festivities rather quaint.”

“Quaint?” You raised an eyebrow, the word dripping with disbelief as you gestured toward the decadent dessert spread. “Says the man who just interrupted my quiet moment at the dessert table.”

His smirk widened, the kind of expression that could unravel nerves and stir intrigue all at once. “Perhaps I wanted a taste of something sweeter,” he murmured, his tone infused with a deliberate intimacy that sent a rush of heat to your cheeks.

The strawberry caught in your throat for a moment, and you forced yourself to swallow, cursing the way your skin betrayed you. Loki noticed, of course he did. His keen gaze flickered over your face, amusement lighting up his sharp features. He tilted his head, the picture of faux innocence.

“Did I say something amiss?” he asked smoothly, the corners of his mouth twitching in barely concealed delight.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered under your breath, the words escaping as you stepped away from the table, hoping to put some distance between yourself and the maddening force of his presence.

Yet Loki followed, his movements unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to unravel you.

“I’ve been called worse,” he quipped lightly, his voice as smooth as silk. His hands were tucked casually behind his back, yet his proximity felt charged, as if the space between you crackled with unspoken intent. “But tell me, darling, why are you so eager to escape me? Surely you don’t find my company that intolerable.”

“It’s not intolerance,” you shot back, turning on your heel to glare at him. “It’s self-preservation.”

He stepped closer, and the air seemed to grow heavier, the warmth of the room fading beneath the cool intensity of his gaze. His voice dropped, low and husky, the kind of sound that made your pulse stutter.

“And what, pray tell, are you preserving yourself from?”

The question hung between you, tangible and electric. His words weren’t a challenge, nor a taunt-they were a doorway, left slightly ajar, daring you to step through.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words dissolved before they could form, leaving only the sound of your breath quickening in the charged silence. Loki’s gaze lingered on you, his smirk softening into something deeper, something that threatened to pull you under if you stared too long.

“Do let me know when you figure it out,” he said, his tone almost gentle now, as though the shift had caught even him by surprise. Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned and brushed past you, leaving the faintest brush of his coat against your arm.

You exhaled sharply, suddenly aware of how tightly you’d been holding your breath. Your heart thundered in your chest, every nerve still attuned to where he had stood just moments before. The room felt smaller now, as though his presence lingered, an echo of something dangerous and enticing.

You spent the next hour doing everything in your power to avoid Loki, though it felt like he was everywhere at once. His presence seemed to saturate the room, no matter how crowded it was. Whenever you turned, there he was: leaning casually against the bar, exchanging sly remarks with Natasha, or simply watching you with that insufferable smirk that sent heat creeping up your neck. It felt deliberate, a calculated game where the rules were known only to him, and you were the unwilling prize.

Finally, the weight of his gaze became too much. You slipped out of the main hall and into one of the quieter hallways, the muffled hum of the party fading behind you. The air here was cooler, the festive decorations sparser, and you exhaled a shaky breath, leaning against the wall to collect yourself.

“Running away again?”

The low, teasing voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you spun around, heart leaping to your throat. Loki stood at the end of the hallway, his silhouette sharp and imposing against the soft glow of a nearby string of fairy lights. The warm glimmer of the lights only seemed to enhance his cool, detached elegance, making him look every bit the dark prince he often pretended not to be.

“This isn’t running,” you said, forcing a steadiness into your voice that you didn’t feel. “It’s called taking a break.”

His lips curved into that familiar, maddening smile as he began to close the distance between you, each step slow and deliberate. “And yet, here I am. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in an attempt to appear unruffled, though your pulse quickened the closer he came. “Do you practice being this insufferable, or does it come naturally?”

“It’s a gift,” he replied smoothly, the amusement in his tone only growing. “Though I must confess, your reactions make it all the more enjoyable.”

You took a step forward, unable to help yourself, despite the quiet voice in the back of your mind warning you to tread carefully. “Is that what this is? A game to you? Annoying me for your own amusement?”

Loki’s smirk faded, his expression shifting into something darker, more intense. His piercing gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like he was looking straight into your soul. “Oh, darling,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “If I wanted to truly amuse myself, I’d do far more than simply annoy you.”

Your breath hitched, the implication hanging heavy between you, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you. “Then what do you want, Loki?”

He stopped inches from you, the air between you charged and electric. His gaze was relentless, pulling you under like a riptide. “Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, “I simply want to see how far you’ll let me go.”

Your body betrayed you, heat rising as his hand brushed lightly against your arm. The touch was featherlight, yet it sent a jolt of energy coursing through you, igniting every nerve.

“You should be careful,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Even as you spoke, there was no conviction behind the words, only a trembling uncertainty that made your heart pound. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Loki’s lips curved into a wicked smile, his confidence unwavering. “Danger is where I thrive, darling. Tell me… do you?”

Before you could respond, his hand rose to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the chaos he stirred within you. His thumb brushed softly against your skin, a maddening contrast to the storm raging in your chest.

“Stop me,” he murmured, his voice intoxicatingly low, his breath warm against your lips. “If that’s what you truly want.”

But you didn’t.

You surged forward, closing the gap between you as your lips met his in a kiss that was equal parts fury and inevitability. It was raw, consuming, and all the more maddening because of how long you had fought it.

Loki’s arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips claimed yours with an intensity that stole the breath from your lungs, leaving you reeling. His kiss wasn’t gentle-it was a battle for control, each movement demanding submission even as it ignited a fire within you.

One of his hands gripped your hip possessively while the other tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The cold wall at your back and the solid heat of his body against yours were the only things grounding you as you surrendered to the moment.

When he finally pulled back, his lips brushed against your ear, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “Indulgence has never been this exquisite.”

Your protests dissolved into a shaky exhale as his hand slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along the sensitive skin of your thigh, moving closer to where you ached for him most.

A sharp intake of breath betrayed you, and Loki chuckled softly, clearly revelling in your unravelling. “Say the word, darling,” he purred, his voice like silk and sin. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But you didn’t.

Instead, your hands fisted in the front of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer. Your voice was barely audible as you breathed, “Don’t stop.”

His eyes darkened, the icy blue of his gaze now molten with raw hunger. That insufferable smirk transformed into something primal, almost feral, as his fingers ventured higher beneath the hem of your dress. He moved with agonizing precision, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh until you shivered against the wall.

“Such a delicate thing,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated against your skin. “And yet, so very responsive.”

Before you could form a retort, his fingers slid higher, grazing over the damp fabric of the lace underwear. The sharp intake of breath you couldn’t suppress only seemed to fuel him, his lips curving in wicked satisfaction.

“Already wet for me,” he observed feeling the damp fabric, his tone laced with sinful amusement. “I knew you’d be eager, but this, darling, this is delightful.”

Your cheeks burned with equal parts embarrassment and desire, but your body betrayed you, arching toward his touch. Loki’s fingers pressed against your clothed heat, his thumb finding your swollen clit with unerring accuracy. He applied the barest amount of pressure, circling slowly, and a broken moan escaped your lips.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. “I do so enjoy hearing you mortals unravel for me.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. But Loki wasn’t one to tolerate defiance. With a low chuckle, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of the lace and tugged them down with deliberate slowness, letting them pool at your ankles. The cool air against your bare skin sent another shiver racing through you.

“You’re even lovelier like this,” he purred, his fingers sliding between your folds, collecting the slick evidence of your arousal. “So wet.” He breathed the words out “So ready.”

His hand moved with a skill that left you gasping, two fingers plunging inside you with a smooth, practiced motion. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a pleased hum from his lips. His thumb resumed its torment on your clit, alternating between slow circles and deliciously firm pressure.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he pumped his fingers deeper. “So perfect, so pliant and all for me, no more running now pet.”

The sound of your laboured breathing mingled with the faint buzz of the party in the distance, though the world beyond this moment felt impossibly far away. Your hands clutched at the lapels of his jacket, desperate for something to anchor yourself as pleasure coiled tighter in your stomach.

Loki pressed his body against yours, his hard length evident even through the layers of his tailored trousers. He tilted his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that was every bit as consuming as his touch. His tongue slid against yours, matching the rhythm of his fingers as they drove you closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum.” The snarled whispered against your lips, his voice rough with need. “I command it.”

You cried out softly as the tension within you snapped, your orgasm crashing over you in a wave of blinding heat. Loki’s name tumbled from your lips in a breathless plea, and he drank in the sound like the most decadent wine.

He didn’t stop. His fingers slowed, drawing out your pleasure until your legs trembled, barely able to hold your weight. Only then did he withdraw, his hand glistening with your release. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with an exaggerated slowness that made your cheeks burn.

“Exquisite,” he said, his voice low and smug. “Every bit as divine as I imagined.”

You could barely catch your breath, still leaning against the wall for support as he adjusted the hem of your dress with almost mocking care. He straightened, brushing his fingers over your flushed cheek, and leaned in close once more.

“Don’t think this is the end, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. “I’ve only just begun.”

Loki’s fingers lingered on your cheek, his touch deceptively tender given the heat still radiating from his gaze. Before you could recover, his hands slid down to your waist, firm and commanding as he turned you effortlessly to face the wall. The cold surface pressed against your palms, grounding you for a fleeting moment before his body closed in behind yours.

“You didn’t think I’d be satisfied with just that, did you?” he murmured, his breath warm against the back of your neck. One of his hands smoothed over the curve of your hip while the other brushed your hair aside, exposing the sensitive skin of your neck. His lips followed, planting open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, nipping and sucking just enough to leave faint marks.

“Loki,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, but whether it was a plea or a protest, you weren’t sure.

“Say my name again,” he commanded, his tone dark and heady, as his hands slid down to the hem of your dress, gathering the fabric in a deliberate, tantalizing motion. He bunched it around your waist, baring you to him completely. His hands roamed over your exposed skin, squeezing, caressing, and claiming every inch as his own.

You felt him then, hard and insistent against your lower back. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and a soft whimper escaped before you could stop it. Loki chuckled, low and predatory, clearly pleased with your response.

“You’ve no idea how exquisite you are,” he said, his voice a velvet caress as he undid his trousers with an unhurried ease. The sound of fabric shifting and the faint metallic click of his belt made your heart race, anticipation knotting in your stomach.

His hands found your hips again, gripping them with enough force to leave an impression as he positioned himself behind you. The blunt head of his cock pressed against your slick entrance, and he paused, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“This is your last chance, darling,” he purred, his voice rich with dark amusement. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You bit your lip, trembling with need and the intoxicating tension he created. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, the words barely audible but filled with certainty.

Loki growled low in his throat, the sound primal and triumphant, before he pushed into you in one smooth thrust. The stretch was delicious, a mix of pain and pleasure that made your knees buckle, though his hands kept you firmly in place. He filled you completely, holding still for a moment as though savoring the way your body molded around him.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. “You were made for this.”

He began to move, slow and deliberate at first, each thrust calculated to make you feel every inch of him. His grip on your hips tightened as he picked up the pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing faintly in the hallway. The distant hum of the party felt like it was in another world entirely-this moment belonged only to the two of you.

“Do you feel that?” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “Do you feel how perfectly you take me?”

You couldn’t speak, your words dissolving into broken moans as he drove into you harder, deeper, each thrust hitting a spot that made your vision blur. One of his hands slid around your waist, finding your clit with unerring precision. His fingers circled the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts, drawing you closer to the edge once again.

“That’s it,” he urged, his tone softening into a dangerous kind of sweetness. “Give yourself to me. Surrender, darling.”

Your body obeyed, the coil of pleasure snapping as your second orgasm tore through you. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him as he groaned in response, his pace growing erratic. With a few more punishing thrusts, Loki followed you over the edge, spilling himself inside you with a shuddering growl.

He stayed there for a moment, his chest pressed against your back, his breath warm against your ear as you both struggled to catch your breath. Slowly, he pulled out, his hands steadying you as your legs threatened to give way.

“Oh pet, you're magnificent.,” he murmured, his lips grazing the nape of your neck in a way that sent one final shiver coursing through you. His tone was softer now, but the unmistakable smugness lingered, igniting both irritation and something darker within you. “You've surpassed even my wildest expectations.”

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze, catching the glint of satisfaction in his piercing blue eyes. He didn’t bother to hide it-he looked like a man who had just won a prize he’d been chasing for ages. Loki smirked, his movements unhurried as he adjusted his trousers and smoothed the wrinkled fabric of your dress with surprising care, the gesture more mocking than tender.

“We should return to the party,” he said, his voice light and teasing, as though nothing significant had just transpired between the two of you. Before you could respond, he reached into his jacket and withdrew a handkerchief, pressing it into your hand with a devilish grin. “You’ll be needing that. Can’t have you making a mess all over the floor can we?”

You stared at the crisp square of fabric, your cheeks flushing anew as the implication settled over you. Loki’s gaze lingered, heavy with amusement, as you adjusted your dress and tried in vain to steady your breathing. He leaned casually against the wall, utterly composed, as if he hadn’t just unravelled you completely in the quiet shadows of the hallway.

“This stays between us,” you said, your voice sharp as you jabbed a finger in his direction. Despite your stern tone, the slight tremble in your hand betrayed the lingering effect he had on you.

His grin only widened, maddening in its audacity. “Naturally, darling. Consider it our little Yuletide secret.”

You glared at him, determined to hold your ground, but the warmth of his gaze, still smouldering with an intensity that made your knees weak, threatened to undo you all over again. With a frustrated huff, you pushed past him, your steps hurried as you made your way back to the party.

The hum of festive music and the cheerful chatter of your teammates enveloped you like a shield, but it did little to banish the lingering heat in your body. You tried to lose yourself in the crowd, smoothing your hair and grabbing a drink to distract yourself. Yet, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t resist a glance over your shoulder.

Loki was still there, leaning casually in the hallway entrance like a predator surveying its territory. His eyes found yours instantly, and the unreadable expression on his face sent a jolt of something you refused to name straight to your core. He raised his glass in a mock toast, his smirk returning, and then disappeared into the shadows, leaving you with a pounding heart and a sinking suspicion.

This wasn’t over- not by a long shot.

[robin-evry]

What about twst Yuu is like The Herta from hsr?

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀!𝐘𝐔𝐔 🪄🪞🔮

Esteemed Genius Society #83, human, female, young, beautiful, attractive. It's said that she lives in the far edge of the Cosmos, almost never leaving. Sounds like her appearance this time... must be for some issue that requires a personal touch, right?

Credits towards the artist

Is highly interested in twst, imagine herta!yuu studying in their lab and suddenly a black carriage appears in their vision and teleports them towards another universe.

How amusing, when they walk out of the coffin and realize the area they're in isn't the same universe they immediately burst out laughing finding this situation amusing, which means there are other universes proving herald hunch theory over the imaginary tree is correct meaning there are other worlds outside of their universe. A way to expend their knowledge.

another universe where there's no nous meaning they have grasp over knowledge that nous doesn't have even excess due to being in another universe, feeling them with excitement.

Herta!yuu has no interest in going back home, they have more knowledge to discover in this world and plus if they want to they can go home at anytime.

When the mirror declared them as magicless, herta!yuu would be a little offended but still understand they are in another universe with a different set of rules and structure.

And Crowley brought them towards ramshackle, herta!yuu give Crowley the most disgusted look ever towards him that even manages to scar him mentally, HOW DARE HE PUT A GENIUS LIKE THEM INTO SOMEWHERE SO INHATEBLE.

Overnight the ramshackle was turn into a castle perfect for a genius like them as well instead of resting, herta!yuu immediately went straight into the Library studying the world and its magic. They manage to understand and excel in the magical system as well as understanding highly complicated magical structures to the point manage to reverse engineering spells.

They by far manage to learn the entire NRC education just within overnights even the ones that most developed mages in the world lack to understand, so during at class they realize, they already learn about this and so they don't need to learn about this again. So herta!yuu after one class literally skip school for the entire day to focus on much more complicated topics.

They visited Sam shop and asked whether or not he got some scraps laying around that he wishes to get rid off and good thing he has some willing to give away in return herta!yuu gave him a manuscript that could sell over a million thaumarks.

Similar towards back in their universe their manuscript would carry millions towards billions worth due to it carrying highly advance research that no one has ever managed to enter it or solve it. It's wanted by many kingdoms and students, Crowley would try to negotiate with them to give him some of their manuscript but was usually met with rejection and ruggie would try to steal one but since herta!yuu rarely go to school it's hard so he tried to get close with the first years so if they ever went to visit herta!yuu he would manage to snatch one. As well as having a large collection of ancient magical artifacts they use for studies and if they find them boring will put them on displays or use them in the ridiculous ways, the first years was gagged when finding one of those artifacts being used as mixer some of this artifacts could also be auction as well destroy the school if use it wrong.

Alright back towards the scraps from Sam, herta!yuu use those leftovers to create their signature puppets to help them manage their studies as well attend school in their place. This could lead to moments where others are unsure if they're speaking to the real herta!yuu or just another puppet.

they rarely exert effort unless something truly interests them. They often sigh and say, "Ugh, do I really have to do this?" before eventually solving a problem in record time.

The ramshackle has an army of puppets that have different duties, some fill in herta!yuu attendance at school meanwhile helps them manage their research, some function as servants and babysitter for grim. Idia are by far curious about their puppets and want to study them but don't know how to approach herta!yuu.

Many students seen herta!yuu as an enigma, rarely appearing or never even once appear towards school only using puppets believing that they have better things to do. The smartest student in nrc that never ever once made an appearance physically because they have better things to do.

And even when herta!yuu make an appearance they will always be accompanied by puppets making sure their needs are taken care of, food, water and more and when kalim ask them why would they use puppets, herta!yuu response with saying that puppets are more efficient as well not carrying the burden of humans. As well finding themselves more capable than others.

The teachers have a love and hate relationship with them, trein and Vargas wish them to physically attend classes without using puppets as well as manage to find ways to outsmart them for crewel sees herta!yuu as a genius no doubt but finds them mostly focus on themselves than other other people

Herta!yuu prefer not to socialise with people they prefer over themselves rather than people who would socialize when the person isn't even the same level of intelligence as you causing them to have complications towards interaction.

They are also very blunt and if they find things uninterested they just usually drop it not giving effort, they lack understanding over emotions due to them always choosing logic, they have never once panicked. Not during Overblots, not when lost, not when Grim sets something on fire. "Screaming won’t solve the problem. Calculations will."

During kverblot Situations herta!yuu slowly claps and says, "Oh wow, another dramatic transformation. So original." before actually stepping in to help.

Vil absolutely hates to despise their behavior of laziness or valuing other things, as well as very bitter due to their natural beauty and when he asks why would they not thrive for betterment herta!yuu response with "I'm already perfect what else do I need to improve ".

[breadbrobin]

fate

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

[part 2 to the trees]

summary: clarisse is being weirdly standoffish, and you’re not one to cave to that, no matter how much you like her. and no matter how things go, you still have to get your weapons from the forest.

warnings: swearing, arguing, fighting, monsters, PINING BUT THEYRE IDIOTS, everyone’s so mad at each other rn, kissing (AHHHH), canon typical violence, again probably slightly ooc clarisse but hey i love her anyway

word count: 3.2k

(uhhh so this is probably not what anyone was expecting for part two but this is how i alway a planned it, so here it is!! tag list in reblogs and also thank you for the love on the trees! i love you all so much <3 and i’d die for you just like clarisse and this dumb bitch here would die for each other)

(this is much more enemies to lovers than the first one btw so have fun)

———————————————

the day after capture the flag was always a little tense. of course it was. half the camp had just lost, and not many people at camp were good losers, especially not those who got their butts kicked.

this time, though, there was a new level of tension in the air.

ares kids didn’t often run the flag over the line themselves, and those who did were crowing about it at breakfast, then all morning too.

curiously, clarisse wasn’t. she was eating in silence, picking through her eggs like she was searching for something.

you’d never seen her like that before. no one had. but, it seemed you were the only person to notice. you always were, and you were okay with that.

your brother nudged your arm and shot you a questioning look, but you brushed him off with a smile.

why was clarisse so down? she’d won. what did she have to be upset about? was she mad at you? did you do something to piss her off in the tree? she hadn’t seemed exactly happy when she left.

stuck in your thoughts, you didn’t realise she’d met your eyes until your brother elbowed you.

“ow! what do you want?” you snapped, rubbing your rib cage tenderly.

“clarisse is staring at you,” he said with wide eyes. “dude… what did you do?”

“nothing,” you scoffed and stood up, taking your empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes, trying—and failing—to not look at clarisse as you left.

“y/n, wait up!”

you slowed down for sam as he jogged to catch up to you. there was a newfound bitterness in your mouth when you saw him. you’d never liked him, not like he’d liked you, but you’d never felt like you wanted to be away from him. not like you did in that moment then. but where would you go? to clarisse? yeah, right, she’d laugh in your face, regardless of whatever happened—or might have happened—in that tree.

“what’s up?” you asked. you couldn’t help your voice being drier than usual.

“just wanted to see how those arrows did you? were they good? i can make some more, if you want.” he looked almost eager to do so.

you smiled kindly. he really was sweet. “they were great, thanks, sam. best arrows i’ve ever used, even if i didn’t get too much of a chance to use them.” your steps faltered. “i did leave one in the forest though. i’ll have to get that later.”

your eyes locked on clarisse as she walked towards you down the path. two of her siblings were behind her, laughing, but she wasn’t. in fact, her jaw was set tight and she was glaring. at sam.

“i could come with you?” he suggested. “watch your back. keep you safe, you know?”

clarisse scoffed as she passed. “she doesn’t need you to keep her safe, tool-box.”

that was a little mean. sure, sam carried his tool-box everywhere, but you never know what might need to be fixed! despite yourself, you had to hold in a laugh. your eyes were alight with amusement as you locked gaze with clarisse.

she looked proud of herself, a jaunty grin on her lips. you couldn’t help your gaze dropping to them briefly. she smiled wider. it was infuriating. she now knew what her effect on you was, and she was using it.

“if she needed someone to protect her, she’d come to me, right, angel?” she tilted her head.

your mouth was infuriatingly dry. you nodded. “uh—“

“whatever,” sam snapped. “come on, y/n. let’s go.”

you kind of wanted to stay, but his grip on your arm didn’t leave any room for an argument. you trailed after him as he left, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see clarisse’s face darken with anger.

“angel?” sam scoffed. “who does she think she is?”

“uh…”

“whatever. gods, she’s just so—“ he turned and faced you, almost causing you to bump into his chest. you’d never seen him so intense before. “stay away from her, y/n. seriously. she’s bad news.”

“she’s nice to me,” you protested.

“she’s not nice to anyone. don’t be naive.” he turned on his heel and started to walk away, then turned back, his face softer. “come on. do you want to learn how to weld? you said you did last week.”

did you? you didn’t remember that. but you did vaguely remember a conversation with sam that you spent zoned out and staring at clarisse as she trained, so that was probably it. “oh, no… i have to… train…”

he looked disappointed, but nodded. “okay, that’s cool. maybe another day. or maybe, we can… go for a walk together? or even have lunch on the beach?”

you nodded absently. “maybe.”

“great, it’s a date!”

you frowned. “it’s a what?”

he looked happier than you’d ever seen him. he even kissed your cheek before walking off, a new spring in his step. you stood there for a moment, eyes wide, wondering what the hell just happened. then you heard a scoff from behind you.

when you turned around, clarisse was walking away.

“clarisse,” you said softly, jogging after her. “clarisse, wait!”

“go hang out with your boyfriend, l/n.” she snapped, her arms crossed as she walked. “he’s probably waiting for you so you two can make out in that sweaty little sex dungeon they call a workshop.”

your eyebrows shot up. “okay, first of all, i’m pretty sure it is actually a workshop, and second of all, he’s still not my boyfriend!”

she scoffed again but didn’t answer, stomping up the steps to the ares cabin and stopping at the top, looking down at you.

you felt small under her gaze, but you didn’t back down.

“what are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

“you said i could come get a new dagger,”you said.

she rolled her eyes and leaned on the porch railing. “and?”

you frowned, looking up at her. “and… i’m here to get one?”

she regarded you for a few seconds in silence, then, just as she was about to speak, a new voice called out.

“clarisse, are you giving out girlfriend privileges already?” one of her brothers, marcus, you thought, stepped into the doorway of the cabin and peered around her to look at you. he looked like a stereotypical son of ares: buff, tall and mean. “that’s cute.” he continued, looking at you like you were an animal in a zoo.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” she scoffed like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

well, that hurt.

“yeah, we’re just—“

“we’re not even friends,” she added hurriedly, not even looking at you. “she just thinks she’s special.”

your jaw clenched. that really hurt. “i don’t think i’m special,” you snapped. “i think i want you to honour your word from yesterday or go and get my dagger out of the forest for me.”

“not my fault you forgot your dagger,” she studied her nails nonchalantly.

“but if you hadn’t thrown my dagger out of a tree and tossed my new arrow aside like it was trash then i wouldn’t have forgotten. and maybe if you hadn’t leaned in like you were about to kiss me, maybe i wouldn’t have forgotten either.” your gaze was as sharp as hers was, meeting in the middle with fire and lightning crackling between you.

she stepped forward, face to face with you. for a second, you thought she’d punch you, but you didn’t back down.

then she laughed. it wasn’t at all like her laugh in the tree the day before. this was her cold, cruel laugh that she usually saved for her victims. with a start, you realised that’s what you were: another victim of clarisse la rue. your heart broke for a split second before you pulled yourself together and straightened your back, meeting her eyes.

“kiss you?” she snickered. “get your head out of your ass, angel, you’re not all that because you can shoot a bow and climb a tree.”

you stepped closer to her, so you were right up in her face. “and you’re not all that because you scare away everyone who cares about you, just because your daddy’s a little mean. you don’t need to be a bitch about everything.”

you regretted it instantly. you’d gone too far. you knew that.

her face dropped and a hurt look flashed through her eyes, but it died as soon as it came to life.

you stepped back and turned, marching away.

“where are you going?” she called after you. “we’re not finished here!”

“you have something else to say to me, clarisse, you come find me!” you shot back, your voice hard. you didn’t start arguments often, but goddamn did you finish them.

you stomped into the forest, determined to find your dagger and arrow so you could prove to both clarisse and sam that you were capable of more than just shooting arrows from trees and running away from fights.

it was darker today. the clouds that covered camp half-blood permeated through the forest, leaving a heavy weight suspended among the trees. the air felt thicker, even, and the birdsong seemed quieter than usual. was there something around? something hanging in the air, waiting to attack you? drag your body back to camp and leave it on clarisse’s doorstep like a cat bringing in a dead bird?

or was your fear just because you were alone instead of with the rest of camp.

whatever it was, it put you on edge.

there was a clicking sound behind you, like someone was cracking a joint, but when you turned, no one was there. you weren’t foolish enough to call out.

you could feel a chill going down your spine, and that’s when you knew: the first shoe had dropped.

your eyelids fluttered and you nearly dropped to the ground, but you leaned heavily against a tree to catch yourself. typical. go out on your own, thinking you can take care of yourself and you get hit with a premonition. how’s that for fate?

you let the feeling wash over you; the pure panic of the near future and the warm grip of a hand on your wrist, like someone was pulling you along.

the future was not looking promising.

there was another clicking sound behind you as you finally managed to straighten up, much closer this time.

you turned around.

the bushes were rustling.

you suddenly realised what that clicking sound was.

mandibles.

two ants the size of german shepherds burst through the foliage. myrmeke.

there was the other shoe, dropping real hard.

“shit!” you stumbled backward, reaching for a weapon. you had no weapon. “double shit!”

you turned and ran.

the ants were fucking fast. they could have caught up to you if you weren’t so agile, turning and springing off in different directions every few steps, sending them careening into trees and rocks. that was the only thing keeping you alive.

where even were you? you didn’t recognise this area. hopefully you weren’t running directly for their anthill. that would be a real twist of fate.

then you burst into a new area, this one with a large tree—a large tree that you recognised.

“yes!” you exclaimed, dashing for the trunk. you found your dagger easily, then your discarded arrow too. you didn’t know what good they’d do against the myrmeke, considering that their shells were as hard as armour and, while force was good in some cases, you had to admit that sharpness may have helped you against them.

you couldn’t run anymore. your screaming lungs told you that. you couldn’t climb either. the ants could climb better than you and you’d be a sitting duck up there, no matter how high you went. but maybe, just maybe, you could hold them off until they got bored or someone realised you were missing.

it wasn’t easy, but you managed to deflect and dodge the myrmeke’s attacks. they were fast, but you were faster. you even managed a swipe at one of their legs as you rolled past, but all it did was leave a tiny chink in its armour.

you were beginning to lose hope.

honestly, what you wouldn’t give for a spear right now. your blunt dagger and slim arrow were about as good as a toothpick against these monsters.

just as you were backed against the tree that you’d once found a safe haven, you heard a battle cry. you could have sobbed from relief, but instead, as the spear-wielding figure landed on top of one of the ants, driving her weapon into the gap between its armoured plates, you took your opportunity to stab your arrow with as much force as you could into the other ant’s gaping mouth, slipping it precisely between its mandibles and, hopefully, into its brain.

it jerked back in pain and screeched, the sound making your ears ring, but it didn’t die. instead, it looked rightfully pissed off, and now it had an arrow sticking from its mouth.

as your saviour pulled her spear from the ants back, a warm, brown liquid sprayed on you. it smelled like ants always did after you crushed them, just a million times worse. you wondered if this was revenge for all the ants you’d murdered in your life.

“gross!” you exclaimed, wiping it off your face.

“grow up, bows, we gotta go!” clarisse. your saviour was clarisse. of course.

just as you were about to protest, two more myrmeke crept out of the forest towards you.

she gripped your wrist, right where that warmth was in your premonition, and dragged you away, making you drop your dagger in the rush.

“i dropped my—“

“save it!” she snapped, pulling you along.

the desperation in her voice kicked you into gear and you started running faster, alongside her now.

you didn’t use the same tactics as before. instead of dodging, you just ran as fast as you could and prayed that the myrmeke would be slower. clarisse seemed to know where she was going, at least.

“you’re such an idiot!” clarisse yelled as they ran.

“we’re doing this now?” you panted incredulously.

“you could have died!”

“we’ll both die if you don’t stop yelling at me!”

finally, gloriously, you breached the edge of the forest and stepped into camp. the myrmeke wouldn’t follow you there.

you dropped to you knees, panting and staring into the forest. clarisse was standing in front of you, her spear ready, just in case.

you’d stepped into a quiet part of camp up behind the amphitheatre, so there was no one around to see you, and no one around to help you. you had a feeling that if the myrmeke didn’t kill you, clarisse wouldn’t hesitate.

once it was clear that they weren’t following, she rounded on you.

you were still on your knees, your legs too tired and shaky with adrenaline to stand, but she didn’t seem to care.

“what were you thinking, going in on your own?” she snapped.

“well i wasn’t expecting to get attacked by killer ants within the camp’s borders!” you protested.

“everyone knows they’re there.”

“i forgot, okay? i’m not perfect.”

“oh, i know.” she rolled her eyes.

“gods, would you just fuck off?” you finally stood up, face to face with her. “you’re horrible sometimes, you know that? i can’t believe i’ve defended you.”

“i don’t need your defending.”

“and i don’t need your help!”

“you would have died!” she yelled, emphasising every word.

“but i didn’t!” you shouted back.

she rolled her eyes and stepped closer, anger practically radiating off her. “yeah, thanks to me. you’d be dead if i hadn’t followed you in there—“

“why did you follow me?” you asked suddenly, voice harsh.

“what?”

“why did you follow me?” you asked again, slower. “i didn’t ask you to look after me, clarisse.”

there it was again. that slightly relaxation of her shoulders when you said her name. it drove you nuts. you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss her for hours or throw her to the myrmeke.

she tensed up again and turned to leave. “whatever. i’m done here.”

“i’m not!” you gripped her shoulder and pulled her back around. to your surprise, she didn’t pull a weapon on you. “why did you follow me, clarisse? was it the same reason that you were flirting with me yesterday? and why you’re so protective of me? and why you hate sam?”

“i wasn’t flirting with you,” she grumbled. “and i hate sam for… personal reasons. and i’m not protective of you! why would you even think that?”

“that’s all bullshit and you know it,” you sneered.

“gods, you aggravate me!” she exclaimed.

“you didn’t have to come help me,” you scoffed, stepping back. “i didn’t ask for your help.”

“and i didn’t want to help you!”

“then why did you? huh? you could handle not winning a fight? you wanted to finish the argument on your terms?” your eyebrows were raised and your face was cold. “or were you gonna beat me up but the giant killer ants got to me first?”

she looked like she was about to explode with anger. “because i love you!”

the air escaped from your lungs in one sharp moment, and it looked like hers did the same thing.

“what?” you asked, your voice softer.

it was silent. she looked like she was trying to find something to say, but couldn’t. her mouth opened and closed weakly, and she shook her head, lips pressed together. you wanted to kiss her.

so you did.

she tensed up as your hands came to her waist, pulling her body and lips against yours hard. then, finally, she relaxed. she dropped her spear at your feet and raised her hands to your hair, threading her fingers through the strands. she was a softer kisser than you’d expected, but it was definitely her. it was all her. the tug on your hair, the underlying, undeniable harshness of the kiss, the spear that rested against your foot. it was perfectly clarisse. you could have kissed her until the sun went down and the ants came and carried you both to their anthill, and if you stayed kissing her like this, you wouldn’t even mind.

when, finally, you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily. all of the tension from the fight hid dissipated, leaving only a warm sparkling in the air, like a mirage around her face in the sunlight. maybe that was a sign? or a vision? whatever it was, it was heaven-sent.

she was smiling. she looked softer like this. gods, you loved it. it felt like fate, and you knew a lot about fate. fate was fickle. fate was cruel. fate brought you the arguments, the myrmeke, the terror. but fate also brought you this. this girl who was glowing in the sun like she was made of pure rays of light. the girl with a spear that she laid down at your feet and would save you barehanded if you asked. the girl who had sunk into your arms like she was made to be there.

“do you think i can get that new dagger now?” you asked cheekily, playing with the hem of her camp shirt. “i mean, i have girlfriend privileges now, right, babe?”

clarisse rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “shut up, devil.”

“ooh, devil. that’s new,” you teased. “i like it. it’s apt.”

“it sure is.” she looked down. “i’m… sorry, by the way.”

“me too,” you nodded. “i didn’t really mean any of that, you know?”

“‘cause you like me,” she said in a teasing voice.

“yeah, ‘cause i like you, or whatever.” you kissed her again, smiling against her lips. “and i know you like me too, because you so did nearly kiss me in that tree yesterday.”

she shrugged. “maybe. maybe not. guess we’ll never know.”

you found out at the next capture the flag game. and the next. and the next. she would go out of her way to find you, defeat you, then kiss you before running off to win the games. and honestly, you didn’t really mind.

fate was a fickle thing, but with clarisse by your side, no one could touch you. sam left you alone, people started treating you better, and you had everything you could ask for. her.

and whenever you two argued, you’d go into the woods together and kill some ants. after all, what says ‘couple’s bonding’ quite like murder?

[hehe-69]

Jacob Black x Reader

“His love could burn against me like a bonfire.”-Levellan Dragon Age

Part 1 series is completed

Warnings for the series: Lil bit if cursing, tooth rotting fluff and ofc angst!

Reader is described as a more understanding and patient person in serious situations, but they often use sarcastic and jokes as a coping mechanism. They cannot read the room, but don’t worry I will try to save you from cringing. Also they act like a normal person having to put up with all the BS of discovering vampires and werewolves exist. (I cannot save you from my horrendous writing and spelling)

They are not physically described except for being shorter the Jacob.

Also for plot purposes your dad dies when you were 7. Ties into you and Jacob’s relationship, you can change it in your mind to be a close family friend instead of you want. (Side characters man they die like gold fish)

Summery: Reader grew up in Forks and is willing to be whatever Jacob needs them to be, a friend, someone to confide in, anything even though they wished so badly to be something more.

But what happens when they discover that Jacob Black has been ghosting them and joined Sam’s infamous cult.

Reader’s patience is put to the test as they struggle to come to terms with their new reality in which vampires and werewolves actually exist and that they may never be anything more the second best.

In this story, Jacob Black gets the love he deserves. And you get to see how deeply and lovingly devoted Jacob really is when he’s in love.

The writing gets better I promise

This fic is completed, there are 17 parts and 3 bonuses on the way. They’re just reader and Jacob going to prom and them getting married. Bc some people may not want to go to prom and may not want to get married and that’s completely okay. Plus a little something special.

————

Most people who lived in Forks Washington could not stand the cold wet weather, but you thrived off of it. The rain and mist made the town feel like something out of a book or even a movie, though some days you could do without the cold.

Today was one such day. Bleak and cold, depressing, so on. Unfortunately for you, today’s weather was only foreshadowing the frustrating forecast of the next couple months of your life.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You mumble out in disbelief, as you sat wide eyed at the scene before you. Jacob Black, the boy who was supposed to be sicker than a dog on his death bed with mono, was cliff diving with Sam and his cult. All his long hair was cut and you could faintly make out a tattoo on his right shoulder, the same tattoo you and him had spent way too many hours picking apart.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it all as you watched him jokingly push one of the cult members, he was laughing and joking around with them as you had spent weeks debating whether or not you should start writing a funeral speech for Jacob Black. “I’m actually going to kill him!” You say through clenched teeth, as you grab out your phone and start looking for Bella Swan’s number.

“Hello?” Bella’s voice calls throw your phone, laced with confusion due to the fact you haven’t spoken since her isolation.

“Did you know about Jacob joining Sam’s cult?” You hiss out.

“What!” Bella exclaimed, “there’s no way Jacob would’ve done that!”

“Yeah that’s what I would’ve said 5 minutes ago except for the fact that I just saw him cliff diving with them on my way back from school!” Putting your vehicle back into drive you continue your drive home.

“CLIFF DIVING! Me and him were just making fun of them for doing that a 3 weeks ago!” You could faintly make out the sound of Bella slamming one of her house doors shut.

“What do you mean 3 weeks ago?! I thought he had mono!” Now you were starting to get pissed.

“He said he got mono after we went to the movies together.” Aka when you third wheeled as Jacob and a blond boy with a squeamish stomach fought over Bella. You almost wanted to throw up at the memory of listing the the blond gagging. “Well apparently he got better real fucking fast! I thought I was going to have to start with planing his funeral.”

“No kidding” Bella laughed out. “I’m headed to your house. You and me are going to confront him about this together!”

“Bella-“ before you could even finish saying your name she hung up on you. “For fucks sake cant people have normal conversations on the phone for once!” You say under your breath.

—————

About 20 minutes after pulling into your driveway Bella’s Orange Truck pulled up. And you hopped right in.

On the way to Jacob’s house Bella explained to you that she had confronted Jacob before in person and he told her to go away and stay away, along with a whole lot of cryptic bullshit.

“Watch he’s gonna tell us he’s a vampire or something.” You joke, Bella didn’t laugh infact she started to get pale at the thought.

“God I hope not.” She says it as if she’s met one before.

You side eye her. “Bella that was a joke…I wasn’t being serious.”

“Oh,” she laugh out nervously. “Yeah I knew that” she does that head, blinking thing she does when she’s nervous. “I was joking too.”

“Right.” You begin to wonder what effect her isolation has had on her sanity as you stare out the window. “Vampires being real would explain why your boyfriend is so horrifically pale.” You chuckle at the thought, and glance at Bella…who is significantly more pale.

You decided that you really did not want to know, vampires aren’t real…right?

—————

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON!!!” You scream out as a 6 fucking foot wolf who was once Paul??? Is about to rip you and Bella apart.

(10 minutes earlier)

“Do you think he’s home?” You ask as Bella parks her truck and kills the engine.

“Billy will tell us he’s not home, but we’re not leaving until we’ve searched that entire house for him.” Bella hisses as she opens her door and starts walking to the porch of Billy Black’s house.

“Well we won’t be looking long considering Jacob is built like a tank and is over 6 feet.” You mumble to yourself.

“He’s not here.” You hear Billy tell Bella, he obviously lying to you. Billy Black is a horrible lier.

“Really Billy?” You exasperate “When are you going to learn that lying is not exactly your strong suit.”

Billy sighs and rolls out of the way as Bella opens the screen door and makes a b-line for Jacob’s room.

“Sorry Billy.” You mutter out as you follow behind Bella. You faintly hear Billy talking to himself saying that he’s getting to old for this shit. Which you would’ve let yourself chuckle at if you hadn’t seen Jacob laying in his bed passed out.

“Oh for-REALLY!” You exclaimed.

“Shhh!!” Bella hushed you and pointed towards the tree line behind Billy’s house, where Sam and his cult were walking out of the woods. “If we want answers I say we talk to the ring leader.”

—————

Bella was on a mission as she started matching her way towards the group of boys. You were right behind but you could help but get the nagging feeling that maybe this wasn’t going to end well.

“What did you do!” Bella starts shouting. “What did you do to him?!” She exclaimed as she literally pushes Sam.

“Bella chill out!” You hiss, you were not about to get into a fight just cause she starts getting aggressive.

“No I’m not going to chill out I’m gonna get some freaking answers.” Bella shoots back at you. Why she doesn’t cuss like a normal teen you’ll never understand.

“He didn’t want this!” She shouts, and immediately after that Paul starts getting defensive.

“What did we do?!” He starts “what did he do?! Hm! What did he tell you?!”

“Okay everyone just calm down.” Sam says trying to defuse the situation.

“He hasn’t told us anything!” You rush out.

“Yeah because he’s scared of you!” Bella all but hisses. Not what you were going for but what the hell.

They all start to laugh at that. “Okay what’s-BELLA!”

Bella slapped Paul in the face. Bella Swan, shy Bells Slaped PAUL LAHOTE in the face. And his boy is LIVID.

“Haha too late now.” You hear one of the boys say, you too focused on the fact that Paul looks like he’s going to kill the both of you as Sam tells you and Bella to get back.

Paul begins to growl and is actually fuming. You grab Bella and put her behind you as you start back peddling. “What the fuck!” You whisper to yourself.

And suddenly you hear the sound of clothes ripping as Paul’s body contorted into a the shape of a GIGANTIC FUCKING WOLF.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON!!!” You scream as a OVER SIX FUCKING FEET WOLF who was once Paul is about to tare you and Bella apart.

“RUN!” Bella yells and starts booking it towards Billie’s house.

“YOUVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!” You yell as you start sprinting as fast as you can right on Bella’s heels. You didn’t even slap him and you’re the one that’s going to die because you wanted to protect your friend? HOW DO YOU PROTECT SOMEONE FROM A OVER SIX FOOT PISSED OFF WOLF.

As you and Bella are running Jacob jumps over the railing of his house and starts running towards you. “Bella!” He yells and then his eyes flicker to you and widen and he begins to sprint toward the two of you.

“JACOB RUN!” Bella yells as she sprints.

“SERIOUSLY JAKE TURN THE FUCK AROUND AND RUN!!!!” You scream at him. Just as Bella is about to run into Jake he jumps over the both of you and turns into a fucking wolf too???!!!

You and Bella are both on the ground now and you turn to look at her to see if she’s seeing what you are. And the look on her face confirms it. You look back to see a reddish brown wolf who is apparently Jacob fight a silver wolf who is Paul.

You feel like you’re having a fever dream no way in hell is this actually happening. “IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!” You look to Bella again who looks horrified and suddenly you wish you were back home taking nap.

Paul and Jacob take their fight into the woods and Sam tells Embry and Jared to take you to Emilie’s place.

“Guess the wolfs out of the bag!” Embry jokes, which you would’ve found kinda funny if it weren’t for the fact that your would was falling apart.

“Oh my God,” you chuckle out laying down on the ground with your hands on your head. “This is it…I’ve lost my goddamn mind.” You mutter to yourself and the two boys laugh at you.

“This is just the start better buckle up, it’s going to be a crazy ride.” Embry teases as he helps you up.

“I think I’m gonna pass out.” You breathe out as you feel light headed. “How are you so calm right now!” You ask Bella.

“Well uh,” she starts off awkwardly. “Edward is kind of ummm…” she doesn’t meet your eye.

You feel your stomach drop, all your teasing and jokes, all the times you said ‘maybe his a vampire’ AS A JOKE. You were right?!

“Shut the fuck up!” You say as you start to hyper ventilating. “Hey hey breath!” Embry says trying to calm you down.

“YOUR BOYFRIEND IS A FUCKING VAMPIRE AND YOU LET ME GO TO HIS FUCKING HOUSE WITH YOU!!!!” It was too much! two boys you’ve know all your life could turn into wolves! And your best friend’s boyfriend was a blood sucking vampire! And you have been to his fucking house, A DEN OF VAMPS.

“WHAT THE FUCK BELLA!!” You yell as you lose your shit. “Dude come on just breathe it’s not that deep!” Embry says. You start to slow your breathing down.

“All of you better start explaining before I start swinging!” You state as soon as you and Bella load up in her truck with the two boys.

“Yeah sure more violence, cause that worked so well last time!” Jared rolls his eyes at Embry. “Dude read the cab.”

“There’s no way you just said that with a straight face.” Jared reply’s and Embry laughs out as he starts the truck and they begin fighting back and forth.

You sigh out and turn your head towards Bella. “Start talking asshole!” Hiss at her as she smiles apologetically.

———————

This is basically a pilot of sorts, there will be more parts and I pinky promise I will not abandon this story.

Also feel free to comment anything or let me know if you want to see more. And thank you for making it this far. I was mainly trying to do like if a normal person was in twilight and experienced all this.

I promise my writing will get better this is more of a how you find out wolves and vampires exist and we’ve all seen this scene before I’m not going to bore you with details

Part two

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Sam's hands are still rough even after being turned (for my sanity stuff like that stays the same)

Sam has dozens of scars across his whole body from when he was human. Some of them are small, others are big, most of them were accidents

Sam doesn't collect cars personally, but he does enjoy classic cars. He and Vincent regularly have long conversations about Vincent's collection and just classics in general

Sam collects music of every kind. He has records, cassettes, dvds, he and Darlin have Playlists on music streaming services (only use them sometimes, like when they don't have the physical version of what they're listening to on hand)

Sam has a few old Polaroids from when he was human. He doesnt look at them often, but when he's really missing his grandma, or just needs a moment to himself, he will go to the roof and sit with her. Sometimes he talks, sometimes he cries, sometimes he just puts on a song she used to listen to and watches the forest

Sam lives for the quiet moments with Darlin. When they're asleep on his chest, when he's resting on their lap, when they're cooking dinner together, when Darlin is out in the garden working and he can sit on the porch enjoying the warm day in the shade (the man loves a good warm day he's going outside sun be damned) (he stays in the shade)(though he has run out in the sun kissed darlin and run back before just to see the shock on their face)

Sam has so many pictures of Darlin. He loves taking pictures of them and the pack. His favorites are the ones he has of Darlin, David, Asher, and Angel wrestling together (Darlin and David are shifted)

He also has one in particular that he and Angel both hold very dear. It's of David and Darlin during one of the pack vacations. The two of them are hanging off of each other, grinning and laughing. It's the most genuine smiles anyone's ever gotten a picture of from the two of them

Sam and Milo have a bet going on which pack member ( including mates+vincent and lovely) can get Darlin' the most riled up (David's at the top of the leaderboard which means Milo is winning)

Sam spent a solid 3 days leveling up in smash because he was sore about the first tournament (he wasn't actually sore he just genuinely wanted to play smash more and that was his excuse he came up with)

Sam keeps his grandma's wedding ring on a chain around his neck and will mess with it when he's thinking

Sam had about shoulder-length auburn hair (in a wolfcut style) that he wears in a half up/half down bun (it's hot)

Sam learned how to cook Darlins favorite meals so that when they have bad days they can come home to more than one familiar scent. He's also started leaving one of his long sleeve flannels by the front door for them (they say they hate flannel but still happily steal Sam's)

Sam is close with a few of the pack teenagers. Especially one of them who's practically Darlins younger sibling. They bonded over a love of music, and Sam's helping them learn to drive since he understands how terrifying cars can be

Sam has freckles all over his body (he has a few birthmarks too)

@sunsickcrab I hope you like it! Thank you for requesting Sam. I don't talk about him alone enough

[misshugs]

The elevator game || Colby Brock x Reader

[req by anon] You knew you were sensitive to the other side, but you didn't expect a silly little game from the internet to give you this much of an impact.

warnings: cursing, paranormal activity, reader getting (slightly) attacked by ghosts, sensitive/medium!reader, degrading, angst? still not sure what the meaning of it is tbh

a/n: this is my first request ever, i hope i didn't let you down dear anon. Concept based on this video

word count: 2.5k (not proofread)

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby!" Colby screamed towards the camera, as always.

"Today we are here at the Driskill Hotel, also known as the most haunted hotel here in Texas." Sam continues.

"We're here to figure out why this place is so haunted and what message the ghosts here wanna tell the people. And for this video guys, we have a very special someone!" Colby says, moving to the side so that you're visible to the camera.

Waving at it and smiling, you were greeted by Colby's hands wrapped around your shoulders. "Thank you, thank you. Hello, dear people. It is I." They laugh.

"How are you feeling about this? Are you excited?" Sam asks, putting the camera on the both of you.

"I am! The place is HUGE and honestly, just looks so good!"

"Right?? When we got in it was just like a burst of shock at how gorgeous this place is." Sam said and Colby nodded.

"If it weren't haunted I'd probably come here more often, but I can already feel all of these... energies walking around, I wouldn't last too long."

"Oh, right. For anybody that doesn't know, Y/n is actually a bit of medium?" Colby asks while looking at you, making you nod. "Yeah, so she's sensitive to like the energy of shadow figures and things like that, so maybe we'll get to experience something interesting tonight!"

"I'd say hopefully not but that wouldn't make it fun I guess." You laugh and so do they while you explain it is a pain in the ass to feel those things constantly. "It is almost as if you're constantly paranoid about someone looking at you, y'know what I mean?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." Colby noded.

"Yeah so that, but those stares are more physical than anything, there are times where I can feel people walking behind me and when I look back, there's no one."

"I can just imagine how creepy that must feel." Sam said and you chuckled.

"Oh yeah. You have no idea." You smiled.

"Well then, shall we begin the investigation?" Colby asked you, smiling. You quickly smiled back.

"Of course." You kissed him softly before Sam could even turn off the camera.

"Oh, gross man. I'll have to edit that out." He said jokingly and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"But seriously though, let's keep it moving." You said and they agreed.

Walking around, there were a few pieces of lore they had to explain to you beforehand. About the one and only Driskill who created the hotel, about the little girl that broke her neck, so on and so forth.

There were times when you had this eerie feeling of constantly being followed, so you kept your arms interlocked with Colby's.

"You're doing okay so far?" He asked, cautiously caressing your hand. You nodded.

"Yeah, just feel like we're being followed." You replied, looking back where there was no one there.

"Really??" Sam asked, looking back as well but seeing nothing. "Do you think we caught a ghost's interest?"

"I mean, probably. There is a difference in between someone that's coming just for the hotel part and us, that are investigating and directly needing their intervention. We're making them curious."

"Well, for whatever spirit that might be following us, you're welcome to answer our questions later on tonight." Colby said loud enough for anything around to listen to it.

Honestly, even those small gestures made you so madly in love with him. The way he touches you softly just for you to make sure you're not alone and he's here for you is such a warming feeling.

Wilst looking around the current room, Colby walked up to a random closed door and tried to walk through.

"She said no closed doors!" Sam exclaimed, probably talking about the tour guide's rules of the place.

"Unless it's... unlocked." Colby responded, making Sam roll his eyes.

"Oop, it's Jim Hogg's room." You said, looking up.

"Who's that?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, it says its name on the top." You point up and they just laughed at the comment. I mean, what were they expecting? You had no idea about whatever story roams around these halls asides from the two main ones they've explained.

"Also I don't think you should be trying even more, like if it's hard to go in it's probably because you're not supposed to."

"We have a bad reputation of breaking into places." Sam admitted and you smiled.

"Yeah, I know. I remember that." You chuckle and hold Colby's hand to pull away from the door.

As they kept on chatting and making interesting comments here and there, you found the elevator and pointed it out. "Oh, is this the one?" Colby asked Sam and he just gave him a stare.

"This is the one what?" You ask and they look at eachother.

Sam sighed. "We were going to keep it until the time came, but we may have a little challenge for tonight that has to do with the elevator."

"Ooooh sounds fun. I wanna do it." You smile.

"You sure?? You have to be by yourself." Colby asked, worried but amused.

"Do you think I can't do this, Mr. Brock? That's offensive." You spat, crossing your hands around your chest.

"No! I meant-" He tried to explain, but you quickly interrupted.

"Cancelled, I tell you. Cancelled!" You look away with your eyes closed, trying not to laugh at the stupid situation unfolding.

"Great." You heard him sigh in defeat as Sam started laughing at the both of you. Looking back with a smile on your face, you hugged him.

"Alright, let's get going already." You giggled, gaining a kiss on the top of your head from your boyfriend.

Walking inside the elevator, it almost felt as if it quickly went down in an unnatural way.

"Did you guys feel like... the elevator dropping three inches?"

"Yeah, kinda of." Sam said.

"Three inches is a lot." Colby replied.

"Three inches is huge." Sam continued.

"I can vouch." You said.

"Mass..." Colby began talking but couldn't hold in the laugh after you said that.

Going back to the main lobby, you all reached out to a girl that was apparently the tourguide. She quickly explained the story of the place, how it ended up being the renouned hotel it came to be.

When she explained that the smell of cigar was one of the main ways Driskill manifested, your eyes went wide. "You're kidding."

"No, did you smell it before?" She asked.

"I did! But it was like, close to the entrance so I thought that maybe someone was smoking. I did find it rare because it was just a glimpse of it for like a solid second and then gone." You explained, making the girl smile.

"Well, that was him."

"No way." Colby said, smiling at you.

"Yup." She nodded, continuing to explain as you all started walking back to the elevator. Going inside, the door closed only to be opened again. "Oh?"

"Did we just pressed five and went to one? It's haunted!" Sam exclaimed.

"That was weird." Colby said, looking at the door.

"It was, that was so weird." The guide said, trying to close the door once again, only for it to open again.

"Does it do that often?" You asked and she shook her head.

"No! It doesn't." She walked back out and talked to someone from out side. "Are you fucking with us?"

"That's so strange- oh, I hit it." You whispered. The guide came back in.

"But you see it, right? I'm pressing five and it like start to go up but then it stops." The door closes once again, only for them to open.

"Oh my god." Sam said, whispering.

"And we're doing a challenge here?" You asked confused, making them laugh.

"Not here exactly." Colby smiled.

"Lemme- I'll go out." You said, walking out of the elevator, watching as the doors began to close, only for them to open once again. "Oh no, that's- that's a malfunction alright."

"And you said it, these malfuction all the time." Colby said to the guide as they walked out of the elevator.

When Sam did it by himself, it started working all over again.

"What the fuck??" Colby yelled.

"Are we like fat? Is it fat shaming us?" You whined, making everyone laugh.

And so, even though your night barely started, you were already having some activity to say the least.

And it kept being that way all night. Constant responses from spirits, intelligent ones at that. The little girl, the woman from the vortex room... all the way down to the challenge you've been anticipating the whole night round.

The elevator challenge.

"I think it might be just me but every single time we pass through this side of the hotel I feel like actually throwing up."

"Wait, really?" Colby asked, worried.

"Like an eerie feeling more than anything, almost like I'm kinda feeling a bit dizzy whenever we pass through here."

"Are you sure you want to do this? You can still back out, or I could go in with you." Colby tried to make you change your mind, but you were settled in it.

"No, I have to do it alone. What if it doesn't work because we're together? You're not gonna let me do this right?"

"I do! I'm just worried." Colby admitted, making you smile.

"You cutie. I love you so much." You said, smiling at him and cupping his face before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Y'all are gonna make me puke, another part I'm gonna have to cut out." Sam joked, making you giggle.

"Alright, alright. So, how does this work?" You ask, hugging yourself as you wait for instructions.

It was a simple game. Supposedly, you had to hit the buttons of the elevator in a specific order. In the last one, you had to invite in a lady. If the ritual worked, you were supposed to start going up into another world. If it didn't, well, nothing happened and it failed.

"So... I'm about to get isekai'd? We're going to an anime, brothers." You laughed at your own joke while they handed you your camera.

"I send you the order, just in case." Sam continued, and you nodded.

"Thank you, 'cause I already forgot." You turned on your phone as well as the camera and walked in.

"Any last words?" Colby asked cheekishly, making you smile.

"See you in the other side." You answered, before the door closed. You sighed, putting the camera up to your face. "Alright, so... I'm supposed to hit this one first." Switching the camera back to the buttons, you hit the number four.

It began moving. "Oh, good. It would've been a mess if it already fucked up. Alright..." You sighed. "I didn't told them this, but I do find the thought of getting stuck in an elevator horrifying. I just agreed because maybe it might help me out, but it doesn't work the fact that I can feel so many spirits around this area specifically every time we walk past it." You explain before getting on the next floor, touching the next button.

Back down on the lobby, Sam and Colby were talking.

"I didn't want her to do it, honestly. I was gonna do it myself." Sam said.

"Right? She's our guest too, what if something happens to her? That would be the death of me."

"Don't jinx it, brother. She'll be alright."

Boy they were wrong.

Halfway through, your vision started to get blurry, your legs were shaky and you couldn't brush off the feeling of pressure on your chest. It was starting to make you nervous, even more so the fact you were alone.

You started thinking to yourself. What if something really did happen? What if you summon something your body couldn't handle? What if it really did send you to another world?

It happened so quickly, that you have already reached the last floor before you knew it. Gulping down your dry throat, you began to speak. "Alright, if there's something... out... oh fuck." Your vision got blurry and you could feel an inmense ammout of power flushing through the elevator doors even before it opened up.

You couldn't hold it together, it was too much for you to handle as you were suspecting before. Although you tried to stay up, your legs couldn't hold your weight up anymore and you passed out, falling down to the floor, hitting your head strongly onto the hard floor of the elevator.

Luckily, the ritual didn't work. It began going down and the guys, mainly Colby, were anxiously waiting for the doors to open. When they did, their faces fell.

Colby screamed out your name, quickly rushing in and holding your head. "Love?? Sweetheart, what happened? Wake up, please. Oh God." He began shaking, carrying you outside of the elevator so that it was slightly more comfortable.

"What happened? Oh my fucking God." Sam whispered, grabbing your camera from the elevator's floor and walking out.

"She's not responding, Sam." Colby nervously said, making sure you were at least still alive.

You were.

"Should I call an ambulance or something?" Sam asked. "Oh, no. I have the keys with me."

"Let's take her to the hospital, quickly." He lifted you up from the floor and hurriedly got out of the building and to the hospital.

You were alright, luckily. It seemes you have just fainted, but you falling down to the floor and hitting your head so hard made it a bit more complicated than what it had to be.

Colby felt bad, horrible even to think that this could've happened to you.

He should've been more careful, he should've known you were too sensitive to all of these energies so that you would go alone and out to make something so nerve racking. He should've been more insisting, rather than going with the flow merely because of a video.

He let his love have that type of experience because of a mere video.

It devastared him. Made him feel absolutely awful about it. While waiting for you to wake up, he kept on downgrading himself thinking about how he's the worst possible boyfriend.

It all stops when you finally wake up. Looking around the white room, confused.

"What happened?"

"It looks like you fainted... I'm so sorry for letting you do that all by yourself, I should've stopped you, I should've at least gone with you, I'm so sorry that you had to go through that because-"

"Love. Love!" You held his cheeks softly, making him quietly stop ranting, you smiled. "You know I wanted to do it, I was the stupid one for forgetting that big energy rafts can affect me a lot, I'm so sorry baby." You kissed his nose, reassuring him everything was alright.

And honestly, he needed to hear it. From you, specifically. Sam was trying to make him calm down but it didn't really work. It had to be you, your voice, your smile.

The one thing that made him whole all over again.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

I MAY HAVE DONE TOO MUCH FILLER FOR NO GODDAMN REASON- also hoping that dear anon liked it-

thank you for reading, loves~! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

~nikkõ

[losers-clvb]

she tastes like the real thing sam winchester x female!reader

content: fluff, angst, maybe emotional cheating, heartbreak, reader has a small bout of paranoia, messy feelings, open ending

word count: 3.1k

note: kinda sorta based on "fake plastic trees" by radiohead. written with the earlier seasons in mind, but isn't canon compliant. please please do not hate sam. he's just a guy who lost the love of his life :(

You weren’t quite sure when you realized it, but you knew it to be true -- you loved Sam Winchester.

This love wasn’t lustful. You two had sex before, but it was different than the one night stands you’d had in college.

Sam was on your mind at all times.

You saw him in the Wasserman’s dog that lounged in the yard -- “I’d like to have a dog one day, I think.”

You saw him in the battered copy of King Arthur and his Knights he’d lent to you -- “It’s my favorite.”

You even saw him in the way the wind drifted over a field of overgrown grass -- “You’re my calm.”

Well, you’d said that last one. It didn’t make it any less… him. You never wanted to be apart from him.

When you woke up in the mornings before him, you would watch him breathe. You hoped that while he slept, his mind was off. He didn’t need to constantly be thinking; you wanted peace for him.

It wouldn’t take long for him to follow you into the conscious world. He’d wake slowly, his eyes fluttering open and landing on yours. You’d smile, and he would smile back. He would bring his hand up to cradle your cheek, surveying your face like he was trying to memorize it.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he would mumble, voice still hoarse from sleep. You would just laugh and kiss him. Sometimes it would lead to more than kissing, though there were times that’s all it would be.

You moved through the mornings in tandem, like a working machine. You would catch him staring at you in the mirror while you brushed your teeth. It was always the same kind of gaze. Memorizing, searching.

You never questioned it. Why would you? You were a woman in love.

The nights were similar. Dinner -- you two switched off days on who cooked --, then cuddling on the couch watching old reruns until you inevitably fell asleep on him.

Sam would carry you to bed. You knew he often kissed you -- on the forehead, on the cheek, in your hair. You also knew his eyes would linger on you. There it was again. The searching.

Sometimes you would open your eyes, show him you were awake. In the split second before it registered in his mind, you would see the grief weighing on him.

“What’s wrong?” You would ask, brushing fingers through his hair.

“Nothing.” He would dismiss, hands falling to your waist to pull you closer.

“Is it about before?” You wouldn’t have to explain it. He knew what you meant.

Before, with Dean. Sam had told you about his brother, about the falling out they had before he’d met you. It would remind you that you’d only known Sam a handful of months.

“Yeah.” Sam would sigh out after a moment’s hesitation. It wasn’t a lie.

Everything was about before. You just didn’t know the extent of it.

You didn’t know that he looked for Jess in you. She was there, or, at least, he found her in you. The same smile, the same love for old movies, the same warm embrace.

When you hummed, he closed his eyes and saw her.

When you kissed him, he felt her lips on his.

When you pushed your fingers into his hair, it was her fingers.

He didn’t want to compare you to her. It wasn’t fair to you.

But, you were happy, and he couldn’t get Jess back, so he settled -- God, no, he would scold himself when he thought of it that way. He wasn’t settling, he was just… looking on the bright side.

He couldn’t have her. He could have you. You, who loved him like he had hung the stars in the sky. You were good to him.

He would try to be good to you in return.

Flowers every week, kisses littering your body every day, the most thoughtful gifts he could think up.

He took care of you, and maybe he loved you too, but it wasn’t in the way you deserved. Still, he’d rather be here with you than alone without her.

There you were, proving to him how lovely you were.

“I wish I could help you.” You had mumbled, letting your lips brush against his forehead before kissing it.

Sam gave you a weak smile.

“You are,” he pulled you in closer, “you help by just being here.”

You seemed to like that answer because he had felt you relax into him. You rested your head onto his chest and tangled your fingers in his.

“I love you.” You breathed out before falling into sleep. Sam didn’t answer.

It was one of those nights again.

Sam had made dinner, something simple. He didn’t know how to cook much, but he always tried. Now, you two were sitting on the couch, a worn blanket draped over your legs.

You felt his eyes on you again. You turned your head and smiled.

“You’re starin’ again.” You teased, kissing him before he could try to defend himself.

It was a perfect night. A perfect dinner, watching a perfect old movie with your perfect boyfriend. All was as it should be.

Sam had fallen asleep before you. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence. He had a long day at work and had been the first one up that morning.

The uncommon part of it all was him talking in his sleep. It was mumbles and gasps, nothing coherent enough for you to figure out what he was saying, but you hadn’t heard him sleep like this before.

You weighed your options. Wake him from whatever hellish nightmare he was going through and cuddle him back to sleep? Or you could let him ride it out, avoid the risk of his embarrassment at keeping you awake. He often felt badly about things that were out of his control and no amount of your protests against it seemed to help.

Wake him up, you decided. You couldn’t let him suffer like this. He didn’t deserve it.

Your fingertips had just brushed against the bunched up fabric of his sleep shirt when a word -- a name -- slipped past his lips.

“Jess.”

You froze. Your breath caught in your throat like your body already knew the impact this one name would have on your life.

Jess. A sister, maybe? No, he would have told you about her. An old friend, then. The ache that had hung in his voice told you it was more than that. She was more than that.

Sam flinched, muscles in his face twitching before his eyes shot open. He looked at your hand where it rested on his chest, then drifted his gaze to your face. He looked panicked, like he was scared you had gone away. Or he was scared she had gone away, your brain nagged at you.

This wasn’t jealousy, you didn’t think so anyway. What you were feeling was better classified as fear of abandonment. What if he reconnected with Jess and left you? Even when you loved him, even when you were sure he loved you?

“What…?” Sam trailed off, knowing you wouldn’t need any context to answer.

“Nightmare?” It came out as more of a question. You didn’t want to assume anything, even if it was blatantly obvious that something had been wrong. Sam nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

“Do you-,” you started, meaning to ask if he wanted to talk about it, but the wild look of alarm in his eyes made you pause.

“No.” He answered, maybe a bit too quickly.

Right, you thought, why would he want to talk about seeing another girl in his dreams?

It was your turn to nod. You waited for him to talk, or move, or do anything to make the situation less awkward. It shouldn’t be awkward, you knew that. A girl should be able to help her boyfriend through difficult things without problem. You’d done it before. But, now? With the name Jess looming over you like a haunting spirit? It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Can I, uh,” Sam sucked in a breath and swallowed, “hold you?” The last part came out in a quiet voice. He didn’t want it to sound as desperate as it did. He just needed to know that you were here, you weren’t leaving. And maybe pretend for a bit that you were someone else, someone he was sure he would always love. He wouldn’t ever tell you that last part.

“Yeah,” you whispered, heart breaking for him. He didn’t need to ask to touch you. You thought he knew that. You had made it clear enough. Whatever it was, whatever happened with Jess, it was beating down on him.

Sam let out a breath and wrapped an arm around you. You curled into him. It was effortless, the way you fit into his side.

“Please don’t ever leave me,” he mumbled into your hair, more to himself than you. If you hadn’t been hyperfocused on every sound he made, you would have missed it. The words struck you in your chest, nestling deep into your ribcage like they had been snapped shut in a trap.

The words should have been a relief. They should have validated your connection with him. Instead, they stewed along with Jess and love and leaving, all of it bubbling up inside of you. It didn’t explode, not then, not with his soft breathing putting you to sleep.

It waited until morning to burst.

You awoke with the sun, the chirping of the robins outside the window acting as your alarm. You were alone but the clattering pans in the kitchen told you Sam wasn’t gone, not really.

The night came flooding back to you when your hand landed on his pillow.

Nightmare, mumbling, gasping, Jess.

You tried to push it down, you really did. You readied yourself for the day, ignoring the way everything spelled out her name.

In the splashes of water from the sink, you caught a J. There, in the wrinkles of your sweater, spelled out Jess. The overcooked eggs that Sam served you curved into a perfect loop of twin S’s. The final straw, the thing that changed your life forever, was the purr of the coffee machine morphing into someone chanting “Jess, Jess, Jess” over and over, breaking your ignorance.

“Who’s Jess?” You asked, voice small. You regretted it the moment it left your mouth, flinching when Sam’s fork clanged onto the ceramic of his plate. You didn’t dare meet his eyes.

“What?” He breathed out, hoping he had heard you wrong.

You weren’t supposed to know about Jess. He didn’t want it. That was his past, or at least he was trying to make it his past. She just kept haunting him. He didn’t know how to feel about it all.

Relief with knowing she was always with him? Grief for her death? Guilt for wanting her back with him, even knowing it would mean losing you?

“Um, uh,” you took in a breath, trying to stabilize yourself. You couldn’t keep living like this, paranoid over some woman you didn’t even know. “Jess? Who is that?”

Sam stared at you. It was different than usual. This wasn’t a memorization, a search. It was denial. He was praying to wake up soon because there was no way this could be real.

With his silence, you flicked your eyes up to him. He looked… mournful, scared. Your fingers itched to grab his hand. You didn’t move them.

“Sam?” You tried to catch his attention.

His eyebrow twitched just slightly with the sound. You sounded so much like her in that moment. For a moment, he had been transported back in time, back to his shared space with Jess.

She’d heard him mumbling out names, just like you, but this time, it was Dean instead of Jess. She wanted to know who it was. She hadn’t been as hesitant as you to ask, though the question came out softer than yours.

“Baby,” Jess liked to call him that, “I’m gonna ask you a question, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” She waited for the nod of his head. “Who’s Dean?”

He’d gathered her hand in his and shook his head.

“No one, just an old friend.” Sam had answered then, not wanting to get into it all.

He was tempted to do the same now, brush it off and bottle it away. He remembered how it ended with Jess, how his lack of introducing the supernatural into her life hadn’t been enough to save her. He wasn’t going to repeat history’s mistakes by keeping things from you.

“She’s--she was--my girlfriend.” Sam answered, dropping his eyes to the table. He didn’t want to see your reaction.

Your heart sunk down. Way, way down, out of your body, away from you. You could feel your throat getting tight.

It wasn’t as if you were under the impression that Sam had no prior relationships. You two had talked about it. You had spilled to him how your ex had left you just a week after proposing, claiming he “didn’t feel it anymore”. You told him about the high school flings and college hookups. He’d told you a few things as well. His prom dates, his teenage girlfriends, the lingering looks he’d exchange with some girl in his freshman year of college.

He hadn’t once mentioned a Jess.

“You didn’t…,” you trailed off, confusion and pre-existing heartache taking over.

“I know.” Sam flexed his jaw, trying to focus on giving you the truth without ruining everything.

“You should’ve,” you whispered, not wanting to blame him for anything. It was true, though. He really should’ve felt comfortable enough to tell you. “I told you about Carter.”

Sam looked back at you, eyebrows furrowing in concern for you. He knew how badly your ex leaving had hurt you. He had spent countless hours chipping away at your insecurity, trying to get you to see how worthy of love you were. He knew it wasn’t fair, telling you that you were perfect while wishing you were someone else, but he couldn’t let you live like that anymore.

“It was different.” He answered. He didn’t want to explain everything. Really, he would have preferred for the conversation to be over. It was too late, this was too big.

“Why?” You asked, trying to think. You searched his face for the answer when he was silent. It made your jaw tick when you found it. “You still love her.”

It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t sad. It wasn’t happy. It was just fact. Sam still loved Jess.

“Yeah…,” Sam confirmed, the word just a breath leaving his lungs.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to make sense of it. Sam loved someone else. Did that mean he didn’t love you? Could you love two people at the same time?

“Why, um, why aren’t you with her?” This. This could get it out of him. Because I love you more, is what you should’ve heard. It wasn’t what he said.

“She’s dead.” He spat it out, angry. Not at you, but at the demon that had cut her open and held her on the ceiling to burn above him.

Jesus Christ, you thought. You were paranoid over a dead woman coming to steal your boyfriend. You needed to get a grip on yourself.

“But you still love her?” You didn’t know what else to say, so repeating yourself seemed to be the best option.

“I think I always will.” Sam answered, further driving down the nail in your heart.

“I’m--,” you paused, knowing nothing good was going to come out of this question. “I’m the next best thing, then?”

Sam frowned, reaching for your hand. You flinched away at first before ultimately letting him touch you.

“You’re just like her.” He said it like it was supposed to make you feel better. It didn’t. You didn’t know Jess, yet now you felt like you were competing with her.

“You sound like her. You feel like her. You love me like she did.” Sam continued, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Do you love me like you love her?” You watched him freeze. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. You knew the answer.

You stood, pulling away from him. Work. Work or outside or anywhere except this goddamn space that was now filled with a third person in your relationship. Sam let out an involuntary noise, reaching for you again.

“No.” You shook your head, trying to keep yourself under control. You didn’t want to be mad at him. It just hurt so bad.

“I need you.” Sam almost begged. He was panicking. He couldn’t lose you. It would be like losing her all over again.

“You need someone who you can’t have,” you corrected, “so you’re settling.”

 You stumbled to the hall. You would lock yourself in the bedroom. She wouldn’t be there, right?

“I’m not settling.” Sam argued, voice pleading. “I love you.”

“Stop saying that!” You noticed your hand shaking when you reached for the bedroom door.

“It’s true, please.” Sam’s fingers brushed onto your arm.

“Why do you love me?” You turned to face him. You looked into his eyes. He needed to say the right things before you would believe him. “What do you like about me that doesn’t have to do with her?”

Sam’s blank stare was answer enough.

Your chin trembled. You couldn’t cry in front of him, not when he was the cause of it. You darted into the bedroom, slamming the door and locking it behind you.

Alone, you let yourself fall apart.

You hadn’t felt so… not you before. Sam had been using you this entire time to make up for something he had lost. You thought back to his affirmations on how beautiful you were, how kind, how loving, how smart. Was it all in comparison to her? Everything you did, was it weighed against how Jess would have handled situations?

Did he even mean it when he said he had loved you? You didn’t want to know the answer, not if it meant making it all worse.

You sobbed into your sleeve, hoping he couldn’t hear you.

He did. His heart ached while he listened. He swore for a moment he could feel your body heat on his back, the door being the only barrier between you two.

Things wouldn’t be the same. You didn’t know what would come next, if you could bear to let him hold you with the knowledge that it was all with another person in mind. Sam didn’t know what he would do if you left him.

He couldn’t handle losing her again.

sam winchester taglist : @hobiespick @xoswiftieprincess

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl @missus-ackles @tinas111 @ambiguous-avery

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 15th of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: If you are still here, I hope you are still enjoying your little advent calendar! Open the door, see if it is for you and I hope you like it!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 2804 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: cursing, drool, comfort sex, possessiveness, praise, pierced dick, raw fucking, creampie, taking pictures of you, Sam just wants to make you feel good because you are hurt, but don't worry, he is giving his best!

He just did not get it. Could not understand, no matter how hard he tried. And he probably never would – he would simply never understand how anyone could hurt you. Precious you with a glimmer in your eyes that made his head spin, a smile that lit up his world and a touch that made him melt, ready to be shaped and formed into whatever you intended him to be for the day. Yes, perhaps Sam was a little biased here with how down bad he was, but he was sure everyone in the damn town would agree that your piece of shit ex did not deserve you. Leaving you just before the feast of the winterstar? Sam was not a violent man, but he was willing to make well-placed exceptions. He had found you in tears in front of your house, phone clutched in one hand, face hidden by the other, sobbing quietly. It had broken his damn heart, had made his fist clench in a bitter rage he had never felt before, body already tense, ready to go scorched earth on what- or whoever had caused the scenery in front of him. But seeing you look up at him, pretty eyes still filled with tears, cheeks red and wet, lip wobbling dangerously, he knew he had to do something else first; be there for you. He had knelt down in the snowy dirt in front of you and had silently pulled you against his chest. At first you had tensed up, but that had quickly faded as you had melted into Sam’s embrace, sobbing into his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric as if you were scared that he would leave just as quickly as he pulled you into a hug. Truth was – Sam would have never left. His heart was absolutely breaking; it was like the pain you felt went over to him, running through his body, pinching at his soul, slamming its ugly fists against his heart. “I am here,” he whispered against your hair, his big hand stroking down your back and back up to your shoulders. “I am here now, promise.”

He didn’t know how long you had sobbed in his arms, and frankly, he didn’t care. What he had cared about was the fact that your sobs slowly had become more infrequent and quieter, that your body hadn’t shaken as violently anymore. You had slowly become more relaxed in his arms, and yet he had still held you tightly to his chest, his long fingers not stopping their brushing through your hair. “Sam?” You had whispered, making him tilt his head. “Yeah?” “I…I need you to do something for me.” “Anything-“ “I need you to f-…fu—I need you to fuck me, Sam.”

Sam also wasn’t sure how often he had asked you if you were sure. Five, ten, or even fifteen times? He had asked you as he had picked you up and pressed you against his body. He had asked you as he was carrying you inside. He had popped the question just before your lips had been about to collide, making you do that cute sniffle-laugh that both tugged at his heartstrings and at the corner of his lips. You had gripped strands of his hair and pulled him into a kiss that could have been described as nothing but desperate, and Sam was shameless enough to say that he had matched that energy. Biting at your lower lip to let his pierced tongue lick over yours, sucking at it to taste you, gripping your ass with those big hands of his in an attempt to press you even closer to his body. He probably shouldn’t have given in, but he was here to help, right? This didn’t have to do with his own selfish desires. Wasn’t connected in any way to the nights he had fisted at his cock, your precious name at the tip of his tongue. Not at all related to the times he had daydreamed about being your boyfriend instead of that prick he had never liked.

“Are you sure?” He asked, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses over your neck, enjoying the feeling of that preciously soft skin against his lips, the softness only inviting him to bite. Mark over where that fucking loser had been, reclaim what he had lost. “Yes, I a- fuck, Sam,” you whined, lulling your head to the side to bare more of it to him. Yoba, how could anyone be so stupid to let you go? But you didn’t need to worry – he would make sure you would know just how precious you were. How deserving you were of feeling good.

Turned out, you were showing him how good sex could feel. Sam’s eyes were rolled back in the far of his skull, his cock buried balls-deep inside of you, and holy fuck, he probably would never be able to fuck anyone that wasn’t you. He had to swallow several times to be able to even utter a word, Adam’s apple bobbing violently. “Fuck, baby, love, oh my fucking- you feel so good…” His dick was throbbing inside of you, pink, pierced tip shamelessly leaking pre-cum as he took a moment just to look down at you. Hair spread out beneath you like some sort of halo, pretty tits on display for him, thighs spread open for him to be accommodated. Slobber and freshly bitten bruises were forming on your skin, making his tongue feel heavy with split. Yoba, you were gorgeous, like a damn angel had crafted you. And yet you were in pain, pain you didn’t fucking deserve, but by hell, he was going to fuck that pain away.

He leaned down to press a quick, rather sloppy kiss to your lips, his cock throbbing dangerously in your cunt. He hadn’t moved much yet, and you still sucked him off so well already, squishy walls wrapping around him in a way that knocked the breath out of his lungs, and he had to fear he was going to fucking cum already. “S-sam,” you whispered, your hips bucking toward him in a loving grind, making him almost go cross-eyed. “Baby,” he whispered, breath quivering with his words. He slowly pulled his hips back, away from you, away form the grinds you gifted him; and holy fuck did it pain him to do so, especially when you whined his name again, lower lip wobbling just like it had done before. Sam gave you an almost soothing smile, one that was supposed to keep back the moans that were bubbling at the top of his throat. That first thrust would forever hold him in a chokehold – engraved in his brain, hammered in his heart. Oh, how your eyes rolled back and how your breasts bounced. He had even felt a quiver ripple through your thighs, so snuggly wrapped against his hips. He was fucking addicted in one stroke, forcing him to pull back, just to snap his hips forward again. His teeth were digging into his lower lip as he began to set a pace, blue eyes glued to your body, drowning in what his dick did to you. Your whole body seemed to react to him, your head thrown into the pillow as the pierced tip of his dick bullied forward, pushing deeper, deeper, deeper. You looked absolutely beautiful, and Sam forever fucking prayed that he would never forget that look on your face. That look that he caused. “You are so fucking- you are fucking- Yoba, fuck,” he started, eyes rolling as your walls squeezed him. Did you like that, huh? Liked being praised? Did that fucking douche dare not to praise you enough? Shit, he would praise you, promise. “You are fucking everything, baby- come on, touch me, baby. You can, let me feel those nails dig in my back.” His words seemed steady at the surface, but below there was a groan lingering, an animalistic sound of pleasure from the depths of his body. One he couldn’t keep in anymore when your eyes fluttered, those pretty orbs finding him, the look of sadness you had had being replaced by something more…primal and lustful. One that only grew louder when your nails did sink into his skin, scratching down along his spine. “That’s it, baby. Look so pretty, even prettier on my dick- hooo…fuck, you are squeezing me, baby. You like this? Yeah? You like my dick? Does it make you feel as good as you deserve, princess?” He panted, eyes slipping shut for just a moment, letting his instincts take over. Instincts to fuck you hard and deep, make you feel every. Damn. Inch. Of. His. Cock. He hadn’t even noticed that his thrust had gotten harder, fast, hard fucks of his cock deep inside of your pussy, making your body rut along the mattress, bed frame squeaking sounds of annoyed disagreement. But Sam didn’t care, the bed could break, he would buy you a new one, build it with his own two hands if you wanted him to, if you only kept looking at him like this – mouth open, eyes rolling and fluttering, but always with a dick-drunken look in them, a trail of spit on your chin as he pounded into you. He wanted to make you forget, wanted to make you feel as good as he did with his balls pulled tight and the thick vine on the underside of his cock throbbing, but he doubted he ever could, not when he felt like on cloud six and cloud nine, fuck that, whatever highest cloud there was, he was on that one.

“Sa-ham!” You squeaked, causing another groan to tear for him. He just had to. Just had to make sure you would have a reminder of this. His eyes wandered to the phone you had dropped only when he had started kissing you, tongue licking over your body as if he was set out to devour you, and now it was in his big hand. He looked at you, nodding at the phone, his hips stopping out of necessity – the blond tried to ignore the way his cock pulsed, the way your cunt squished and gushed, the sloppy wet having formed a creamed ring around his fat shaft. “Can I, baby? Gosh, you just look so pretty, look atcha…Want you to remember how good you can feel,” he rambled, licking over his lips, watching your face intently. You were panting, still in a daze, and yet there it was, a nod. Your thighs wrapped tighter around his hips, hands reaching up to grab his face and pull him into a kiss. Sam happily complied; he would have been stupid if he hadn’t. He grunted, shifting more of his weight on his forearms, adding some pressure on your body, just to make you feel a little closer. He needed it, and he hoped you enjoyed it, too, as your tongues clashed and bumped. Sam’s hips slowly began to resume their pace from before, heavy balls smacking against sloppy wet skin, cunt squelching whenever he drew back. “Gorgeous, wonderful girl. Ya deserve the world, baby. Gonna pick the stars from the sky for ya if ya want that,” he slurred, eyes watering with just how good your pussy felt. His fingers were fucking shaking as he pressed the camera button, pressing a small kiss against your lips before picking himself up just a little, allowing the camera to capture his cock pounding your pussy. Gosh, he was in love, with how you scratched him, how you moaned for him, how you snapped up your hips whenever he went especially hard – with you. “Good girl, good fucking girl, pussy taking me so well, holy fuuuuuck,” he panted. He felt the coils in his tummy twisting and turning, becoming tighter, threatening to snap, snap for you, ready to mark you up, cover the tracks of those who weren’t deserving. He was moaning your name quietly, the camera now lifted higher, trying to capture as much of your beauty as humanly possible, free hand groping your bouncing tit. “You are amazing, baby, hng- I am- oh fuck, you are going to make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that, princess.” His words were hissed through grit teeth, which was understandable with how close he was to the edge.

“You deserve the world, baby, deserve being pounded stupid by good dick every day, yeah? That’s it baby,” he cooed, hand leaving your tit to press his thumb against your throbby little clit, drinking in how your body twitched, back arching in, the moans that had fallen from your lips now mixing with mumbles of his name. That’s how he liked it, having you dumb on his cock, just how he was absolutely drunk on your pussy. “I can feel you squeezin’ me, babe. Gonna cum? Huh? Tell me. Look at me and tell me,” he ordered, whimpering at the way your nails dug deeper into his skin. Yet your eyes met, your head nodding. “Gonna-gonna cuuum! Oh FUCK, Sam!” You suddenly whined, your back snapping up again, an absolutely unholy whined sound escaping you. He knew he almost had you there, and he needed to bring you there – he was sure he would fucking die otherwise. “Yes, yes, yes, cum for me! Bless me like that, baby, please. Oh my Yoba, please cum for me, babygirl. Need you to drench me. Gonna do that for me? Are you? Pretty, pretty -fuhuuuck- pretty please,” he panted between harsh snaps of hips and quick flicks of his thumb, trying his best to hold back, trying not to pump you full just yet. Being begged like this did seem to do something to you, because it made you sob out his name as you were pushed over the edge, a wave of orgasmic bliss washing over you. Your toes curled as you pressed Sam against you, your legs locking him in as if you wanted to make sure he could not fucking escape you – as if he ever wanted that-, small begs and pleas leaving your kiss-bitten lips. Sam moaned in your ear, shamelessly so, kissing the shell as his hips sloppily fucked into you. If he had been precise before, he was nothing but humping you like a mere bitch in heat right now, kissing at your neck, your ear, whispering how good you were doing for him, desperately trying to keep the camera lifted steadily. “Made a mess on my cock, baby- ugh, so fuckin’ hot. I- shit, princess I am gonna fuckin’ fill you up, I am- mmpf-“ the last sound was drowned in the throaty moan that left poor Sam, the knot in his stomach finally snapping at a single word that left your lips: “please.” But who could blame him? It sounded so beggy, so whiny, so earnest. And shit, Sam would deliver.

He was left absolutely breathless as he came, nestled deep inside your squishy walls, ropes of cum filling your precious cunt. Poor Sam was shivering, phone shaking in his hand was he rutted, humping his cum deeper inside of you, hoping to fill you to the brim. Sam was just a man, after all, shamelessly milking himself with quick little thrusts, much softer than before. He could feel the world around him spinning, eyes watering again as he rutted, and rutted, and rutted, hoping to fuck a memory inside of you that you could hold onto. Only when he deemed himself drained did his hips slow, greedy Sam not able to bring himself to stop completely, even though he had nothing to give anymore. Until he saw your face. Lulled in the pillows, blissed smile on your spit-wet lips, eyes cross-eyed as you looked at where you connected. He had deemed it impossible, but his cock twitched, filling you with another rope of cum, bringing him close to sob. You were just perfect, weren’t you? Even in his fucked-out mind he was able to zoom in on your face, voice breathlessly whispering another praise. “You are absolutely perfect…Gosh, you are- you are the sun, baby. Fuckin’ hell.” It might not have made sense to you in that moment, but to him, it did. It always would. You were the sun and he was nothing like a mere moth, drawn to your light, ready to worship you, even if he would end up burnt in the end. A small smile tugged on his lips as he saved the video, panting still as he leaned down to kiss you. To his surprise, you kissed back again, your sweaty hands holding his cheeks affectionately. Hey, maybe he had fucked some of the pain away. And if not, he could always manage another round. Just for you, of course, sunshine.

[rivendell-poet]

Hello! I love your work so much!! Can you do a headcanon on the fellowship's reaction to a reader who has trouble on social cues so they are preceded as awkward and weird to others at times?

First of all, thank you so much anon! That means a lot ❤️

Secondly - sorry for disappearing for ages, I've been both very busy and trying to combat writing block for a while. Apologies that this isn't super long, but it's nice to be back and I hope you enjoy this.

And of course, I hope I've captured what you wanted (and sorry for the wait).

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐬❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir ○ Pippin ○ Merry ○ Sam ○ Frodo ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 1.8k | TWs : None

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ It might be surprising to some, but not picking up on precisely what he should do isn’t always unusual for Aragorn.

✧ He’s been immersed in so many cultures, played so many different roles, that sometimes he misses a cue as well.

✧ So he’s always very understanding, and non-judgmental, whenever you miss something. Or don’t quite pick up on a tone inflection.

✧ Over time, you notice small gestures that he’ll do to make it more obvious. Or even just a quiet nod to you, when the conversation calls for you to speak and you just missed who said what.

✧ Picks up on your mannerisms quite quickly as well; he often sees what you mean much quicker than most people, and adjusts accordingly too it.

✧ Aragorn is also generally a very calming presence, and he never seems judgmental when the two of you are together.

✧ It’s easy to not feel nearly as nervous around him, and when you do miss something you never feel judged. The worry you get that he’ll think you’re odd never seems to take hold in the same way.

✧ Later, when he has to present you to the court you can feel the butterflies (more like snakes) fluttering in your stomach.

✧ But it’s an event he’s gone over with you as many times as you need, patiently going through as many scenarios as you require.

✧ His hand gently squeezes yours, a reminder that he’ll be here beside you the entire time.

✧ “Whatever happens, I could never love you any less.”

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ If anything, Legolas sees you as more of a kindred spirit.

✧ As much as he tries to understand mortals, there are certain conventions he never quite understands. Certain bits of human culture he simply misses, because people thought they were too obvious to explain.

✧ It happens when some words are exchanged at Rohan, and people laugh in a way he didn’t realise was expected. His heart does a little jump as he wonders if it’s too late to join, and then he sees his own worries reflected in your eyes.

✧ The two of you hold each other’s gaze for a second, before he gives a smile of recognition. You see each other.

✧ For the rest of the night, the two of you are by each other. Sometimes it’s you who misses something, sometimes it’s him - but there’s a sense of reassurance that wasn’t there before.

✧ You are each other’s safety nets, in a way. That refuge of understanding, and knowledge that you won’t be judged.

✧ Once, a quick comment is said to the two of you and the speaker laughs. At what? No idea, both of you missed the subtext.

✧ There’s a second of anxiety from you - the fear of being judged as you stand there - before you realise that Legolas has missed the cue as well.

✧ He catches your eye, a smile playing on his lips. His eyes seem to shine a little.

✧ And then the two of you burst out laughing together.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ Again, he has to learn to pick up on new social cues in the Fellowship, although he takes to it far better.

✧ You’re almost envious, that he can learn so well so quickly, yet you’ve been in this culture your entire life and you still feel you’re playing catch up.

✧ His eyes sometimes drift to you, when you don’t speak quickly enough or laugh too loudly at the joke that wasn’t that funny.

✧ Then, suddenly, your laughs aren’t as lonely anymore. Your silences go from isolating to more comfortable, as the dwarf occasionally joins in with them.

✧ Gimli never does it when it’s just you or the Fellowship - he loves you as you are, and he’d be damned if he tried to change anything - but he sometimes helps when he knows you’re nervous.

✧ If you’re truly worried of messing up, or that anxiety is too high, all you need to do is give him a look he somehow knows how to read.

✧ All attention on faux etiquette is then on the dwarf, who’s silver tongued enough to pass it off later. To make others forget.

✧ Until the only evidence something ever happened at all is when he gives you a little wink, and a small grin.

✧ “Couldn’t have left you alone, could I?”

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Boromir is probably one of the least likely to struggle with social cues in the Fellowship. He was also privileged enough that, when he made an error, people didn’t comment on the heir’s slip up.

✧ So he always extends the kindness that he was given to you.

✧ The only time he’ll ever truly acknowledge what you did was ‘odd’ or ‘unusual’ is when it happened alone - then he might have a small smile, a quick laugh. There’s never anything malicious behind it, and in an odd way it sometimes helps you feel more comfortable.

✧ He’s also been immersed in enough cultures - Gondor’s elite, to soldiers, to Rohan - that he can mix how he talks fairly well.

✧ If there a certain phrases of social cues in languages that you always seem to miss, he makes a conscious effort to avoid using those in his everyday speech.

✧ (And the same goes for the opposite.)

✧ Boromir is also great when it comes to talking to him about the awkward silences, or the sub-text that you know you’ve missed (but aren’t sure what it is).

✧ Will always explain things if you need it, without condescension, or he’ll simply rephrase it in a way that’s more obvious - and then that becomes his newer speech instead of the old phrase.

✧ A somewhat bad habit of his is that he can sometimes have quite fragmented conversations - jumping topics or leaving gaps in the silence - so even when you’re unusually quiet he sometimes doesn’t notice it.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Relates to your struggles a lot. Pippin sometimes struggle with when to or not to say something, or if his wording is appropriate for a situation; and then he says it anyways.

✧ He’s never sure if he regrets speaking up or missing the cue - but he does know that it’s better when you and Merry are around.

✧ Because he knows he has someone to turn to, someone who won't judge him.

✧ And of course he’d never even dream of judging you back.

✧ Now, his sheepish smiles after he misspeaks are still a form of an apology but they’re an inside joke between the two of you as well. It starts genuine, but when he catches your eye the corners of his mouth turn into a true smile.

✧ Becomes very in-tune with the way you speak very quickly.

✧ You missed something and didn’t speak? Pippin is remarkably quiet as well. You interjected and made a comment? Words have probably come out of Pippin’s mouth, or there’s been an agreeable hum at your statement.

✧ Does it mainly on accident, but there’s a part of him that does it to make sure you never feel alone or two uncomfortable.

✧ Pippin is also a wonder when it comes to dealing with awkward silences.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Linking back to Pippin’s answer, for a lot of his life never been picture perfect about ‘social cues’ (nor have the people around him been).

✧ Although at the very start he doesn’t understand quite deeply enough as to why it’s so awful when you fumble through a social interaction.

✧ The Shire is quite a forgiving place - and he enjoys your talks so the few pauses or quick words don’t phase him in the slightest.

✧ Why on Earth should your company be any less than someone else's just because of how you interact with others? Especially when all your interactions are good, make him laugh or smile; a correct word choice is meaningless when up against that.

✧ But when being perceived as ‘weird’ gets to you too much - he doesn’t immediately understand it.

✧ “You’re already perfect. Why does it matter that you spoke too soon?”

✧ Becomes very understanding the minute you explain it to him. Why precisely you hated being perceived in that way.

✧ After that there’s a few, very subtle changes. Nothing about his interactions with you, there’s just a steady support when you’re talking.

✧ And if you ever falter - he’s instantly there to fill an awkward silence.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ I think Sam sympathises the most with you, not least because he can relate.

✧ Sam tends to revert to formality when he doesn’t know how he should speak, because at least he knows he’s following some speaking etiquette. Even if it’s not always proper for the situation.

✧ And no-one else seems to fully understand his troubles - he can hardly see your awkwardness, or Pippin’s - until you speak about it together.

✧ He confesses about his nerves, and how he hopes he hasn’t fumbled over anything too badly. In response you relate and apologise for any missed social cues.

✧ Surprise is an understatement when he discovers you’re sometimes self-conscious about how you speak. He almost seems stunned for a second before he rushes to reassure you.

✧ “I like you most when you’re the authentic you. Not when you’re speaking different just to appease someone who shouldn’t be caring about that kind of thing.”

✧ There may be times when you fumble, but he knows he can lean on you (and he hopes you know you can lean on him).

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Frodo is somewhat odd in the Shire based on how he speaks, the dreams he shares and the tales that he’ll happily tell to young hobbits who will listen. But he was never judged for that.

✧ People accepted that he was simply how he was, and that was the end of that matter. No-one really had any problems with that, and he was free to go about his days.

✧ Which is why his heart broke a little when he discovered you were sometimes self-conscious about it.

✧ He could hold conversation with you for hours, or simply listen to your voice if he wanted too. Where was the oddness people talked about?

✧ The things you most missed, or disliked, hadn’t ever occurred to him as something wrong. To Frodo that was just how you are, and still is.

✧ One of the most reassuring things is simply his presence in conversations. Frodo’s certainly eloquent enough to carry a conversation if you want attention taken away, or a slip to be brushed out of people’s minds.

✧ But he’s also a quiet enough hobbit, one who’s content to listen. Frodo is always the first to respond appreciatively to your points, to keep a new flow of the conversation.

✧ It’s subtle, yet Frodo will always be there for you where you’re nervous about this sort of thing.

A/N : Yes, the irony is not lost on me that my last posts are all about being being happy I'm back before disappearing again for a month. Hopefully this makes up for it! (and if you ever just want to chat, I do check this blog regularly - I'm active here and on @wisheduponstars even if I'm not posting)

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[camerahaterlittle]

really liked your new fic! could you do another similar one but where a different player is the real parent and Lucy is the good guy and she gets annoyed at the parent and like yells at them for treating the kid badly. Thanks:)

Arguments | Lucy bronze and Millie Bright

Summary: Millie starts yelling at you for not being home all the time and instead being at Lucy's but luckily Lucy was there to save the day like always

Warnings: like always bad writing grammer and a bit short Millie's a bad guy here sorry guys mentions of treating reader badly

Notes: I'm glad you liked the new fic I'm still not sure how to feel about it honestly

You had always been able to say Mille was an amazing mom. I mean, she always showed up to every fight of yours, bringing some of your aunts along with her, celebrating your wins with you. Buying you new gloves and shoes for you when you needed them without complaint yet recently something had shifted.

You didn't know what happened, but she randomly just stopped everything no longer showing up to things starting to ignore you when you said you needed new wraps for your hands and forgetting to restock the house up with the food you needed. Yet you didn't say anything to anyone not wanting to cause a problem with your mom and your aunts.

Especially since you knew Lucy would go mama bear on Millie Lucy had always been protective over you ever since you came to her with your obsession with fighting when you were 5. She did everything for you going as far as to buying you a bag, shoes, and gloves and everything else she thought you needed for it. Your mom was annoyed with her for buying you all of it which caused a riff between them, but it was quickly solved.

Lucy would do anything for you but also would go to extreme lengths just for you which you were glad for, especially right now because she didn't question when you started coming over to her apartment more than ever. Just pushing it off as you missed her and Narla it was true you did miss them even if you visited them very often in Barcelona.

You laughed as you jumped onto Lucy's back, forcing her to carry you into the training center with her bag. Lucy grunted at the sudden weight on her back, yet she continued to walk. "Off you oversized koala i swear you're worse than Grace" She adjusted both you and the bag in her hands just so she could carry you and her bag.

You ignored her words instead ruffling her hair up so it was now a mess shrugging at the media guys who were recording everything. "You love me really Luce I'm glad Grace's training is paying off" Lucy rolled her eyes, waving at the camera as she headed inside on her way to the training room.

Millie rolled her eyes at the sight of you two scoffing as she went back to talking to both Maika and Sam, following behind the two of you and into the training room attempting to ignore you guys. Luckily for her, at least she was successfull you and Lj immediately went to bother the other girls as they got ready for training.

You both ran out of the room laughing as you heard Sam's shirt making contact with the floor after she threw it the both of you walking onto the pitch saying hi to the media team acting like you totally didn't just annoy the girls. You and Lauren fell into an easy passing between the two of you as you guys waited rough housing every now and then.

The moment everyone was finally out and onto the pitch, you jogged onto the sidelines since you couldn't be included in these trainings instead just sitting on the bench talking to Sonia when she wasn't telling the girls what they needed to do.

By the time training was over, you were talking to Lucy her arm around your shoulders as you two talked about what day. You could fly out to see Ona and stay there for a couple of days before returning home but before you could even exit the Chelsea's training center your mom called you pulling you aside and into the meeting room.

Millie closed the door before she leaned up against the table in the meeting room, sighing as she crossed her arms over her chest. "What's up with you being over Lucy's all the time" You could hear the annoyance but also slight anger in her tone over this topic, which didn't surprise you.

You shrugged shifting your weight on your feet, wondering why she was playing dumb like she didn't just stop caring about everything you were doing "I don't know maybe you tell why you've just stopped caring about me all together" Your tone matched her annoyance as you kept your gaze locked on hers.

Neither of you knew Lucy was only standing a couple inches away from the door so she was hearing every last bit of the conversation and that's when she started connecting the dots with how both of you have been acting recently.

Millie scoffed at your words, shaking her head "I haven't stopped caring just because I atop doing things for you doesn't mean you go run to Lucy like you always do". Lucy leaned against the wall, already angry and annoyed with Millie but continued to stay out of the conversation, wanting to hear what you had to say before she walked in there and said something.

You rolled your eyes at her poor excuse for the way she had been acting, trying to play off the way she has been treating you which was the funny part for to you "Really you have stopped caring you've even started to forget to restock the house with food I can actually eat and I run to Lucy because she's always there even when she was in Barcelona she was there unlike you" Your voice raised without you even realizing it as you grew even more heated with her and her excuses.

When Lucy heard that, she immediately opened the door to the meeting room her attention on Millie and Millie only as she walked up to her teammate, standing only a couple inches away from her a look of anger on her face as she stared at Millie "You've got to fucking with me you've been neglecting her" Lucy was unbelievably disappointed in Millie but also angry with her course of actions.

Lucy moved closer to Millie the both of them being face to face as she glared at your mom "I'm so fucking disappointed in you you haven't even fucking fed her shit knowing she needs a certain diet for what she does and your mad at her for running to me she has every right to run to me I'm here fucking aunt and I always will be and apparently now I take better care of her".

Millie's expression changed from annoyance and anger to just pure guilt at Lucy's words she knew when Lucy said she was disappointed she meant it on so many different levels so this was like a stab to the chest. Millie didn't say anything, her gaze dropping from her friend and down to the ground suddenly feeling ashamed with out she treated you then how she proceeded to act.

You finally broke out of your trance of shock, grabbing Lucy's arm and pulling her away from Millie, trying to get her out of the room "Come on Luce you've made your point let's just go" Lucy softened up when she heard you speak up scoffing at Millie's silence before walking out of the room you following close behind leaving Millie to think about everything that had just happened.

Once you fell into step with Lucy, she wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you finally walked out of the training center and into the parking lot she looked over at you speaking up "Why didn't you tell me what she was doing squirt" Surprisingly her voice was somewhat soft and quiet as she asked the question.

You sighed, shrugging as Lucy put her bag into the backseat of her car getting in the drivers seat, you quickly getting in the car as well picking at your fingers as you responded "Because I didn't want to ruin anything between you and mom plus I know how you get over me" your words came out quiet and slightly mumbled.

Lucy sighed, buckling herself in starting the car as it roared to life. You quickly did the same as you kept your gaze on your hands "Squirt I would've never let it affect anything between me and Mills I would've just talked to her before things got this bad. You only nodded not saying anything else, and Lucy took that as a sign you were now done talking, and with that she started the short drive back to the house.

(I hope this is what you wanted and as you can clearly tell I'm not the best at writing arguments anyways any feedback is appreciated)