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

[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.

[ohsc]

₊˚⊹♡ 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.

[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?

[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]

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"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.

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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

[cobaltperun]

Jerks With Hearts of Gold

Tara Carpenter x female Reader (Request)

Masterlist

@alexkolax here you go, sorry I left his for last, I had a blast writing it! Not sure if this completely fits the frenemies to lovers you requested, but I think it turned out fine. Thanks for the wonderful request! 😁😁💙💙 Also this is merged with a similar request here.

Word count: 4.8k

“No, you hear me! Quit picking apart every single thing you watch!” there they go again…

Sam groaned, burying her head in the pillow as she got front seat experience to yet another argument between Tara and you.

“I’m not! I just can’t turn my brain off!” you exclaimed and reluctantly Sam opened her eyes. There you and Tara were, arguing while the twins and Anika laughed their asses off, because of course they would.

“It’s a horror comedy!” Tara argued back, and by this point someone just needed to nudge either of you and you’d just kiss. But no one was doing that, because, according to Mindy, the professional expert, the two of you would just act disgusted and avoid each other. Meaning it probably happened before.

Although, according to Anika, the two of you were already together. Because, well, Tara brought you into the group. She vouched for you, granted behind your back, but still, she, apparently, hated your guts, yet she was the one who dragged you, literally, into the friend group.

Sam still remembered your valiant efforts to get free from Tara’s grip, yelling ‘Unhand me, Carpenter!’ as loud as it was socially acceptable in a park, while Tara grumbled something along the lines. ‘Trust me, I would, but someone insisted on meeting you!’ to this day they had no idea who insisted on meeting you. Because none of them did! Yet Tara claimed Chad did when he was drunk and that… wasn’t impossible, but it was a bit of a stretch.

At this point Sam was very temped to do it, just shove Tara into your arms. You’d either get together or stop talking to each other for a few days and as far as Sam was concerned either option was a win.

Wait… If you got together, you’d be here more often. You’d argue with Tara even more.

No. No! You would absolutely not get together!

Sam would not allow it!

“It’s too ridiculous to be considered a comedy! The woman’s head gets pulled off her body!” you shouted, arguing about whatever happened in the movie.

“Y/N…” Tara’s eye twitched, but she didn’t need her inhaler, so Sam was at least at peace with that. It really was you and Tara being plain and simple childish.

“And that dance montage? Get that out of here!” you complained and for a moment Sam could have sworn your and Tara’s hands touched, just for a moment.

Tara threw her hands up, so Sam must have been seeing things. “The actors were underage, what did you want?!”

“Not even implications, thank you very much!” well, Sam could see some reason in that argument.

Mindy apparently had enough and snapped her fingers getting your and Tara’s attention, though it was clear both of you were reluctant to give it to her. “Come on, at least agree that the actress is pretty,” she said, and the actress really was beautiful, so hopefully you and Tara could find common ground there. Instead of bickering about that as well.

“Never. She looks like Tara,” you immediately shut the idea of agreeing on anything down.

“Excuse me, what?” Tara demanded. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

You turned back to Tara and slowly smirked. “Oh, you know exactly what it means,” a moment later Tara was storming into her room, her face red with anger, and you as satisfied as you were just sat back down and sipped on your drink.

At least it was clear you and Tara weren’t getting together anytime soon, so Sam could relax.

There was one time she saw this happen and she began threatening you, only for Tara to come out, yelling that she would deal with you and that Sam shouldn’t get involved. Sam sighed back then, accepting that somehow Tara just liked having her buttons pushed by you, and pushing your buttons in return. It was a strange frenemy situation you and Tara were in, but Sam begrudgingly learnt to accept it.

~X~

Jerk, that’s what you were. Of course she knew exactly what you meant, and you were a jerk for that, making her flustered. She was lying on her bed, looking at the ceiling, still blushing, though not as much as when she came into her room. You were still as annoying as you were the first time you met.

She met you in a literature class, and she was the only one taking it so she couldn’t sit next to Mindy, Chad, or Anika. And by pure, dumb, luck, she sat down next to you, and she regretted it immediately as she could smell the cigarette smoke on your clothes and she couldn’t move away since the seats were taken, and well, plenty of students smoked so she kinda learnt to deal with it. Especially while she was going to parties where cigarettes were the least of her problems. As far as her asthma went.

It still irritated her lungs.

“Hey, I’m Y/N L/N,” you introduced yourself and she was weary, of course she was, she was targeted by Ghostface twice. It was a miracle no one she loved was killed the last time, though both Anika and Gale just barely survived.

So, when you immediately introduced yourself she was suspicious, even though she was the one who sat down next to you. It was just her paranoia. “Tara Carpenter, it’s nice to meet you,” she still accepted your hand because she still, despite being paranoid, wished to live a relatively normal life.

And that’s how you met, you didn’t give off psycho vibes, granted neither did Ethan and Quinn, and she didn’t even want to think about Amber. But she felt strangely comfortable, despite the scent of cigarette smoke.

“You okay?” you noticed her discomfort, a lot faster than most people would.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. Just my asthma,” she smiled lightly, she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but she didn’t feel like lying.

Your eyes widened and you cursed under your breath, understanding what she meant. And you pulled your chair further away from her. “Shit, I’m sorry. I would switch, but,” you sheepishly rubbed the back of your head. “The only people I know in this class smoke a lot more than I do,” you did get up to open the window a few feet away from you as Tara looked at you, honestly not sure if she should get suspicious or if she should find your actions endearing. “Does this help?”

Tara nodded, it did help a bit. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

She had no idea it wouldn’t even take half an hour for your first argument to happen… And it began so nicely.

~X~

You were grinning like a fool in the Carpenter sister’s apartment, doing your best to ignore Sam’s exasperated look and Anika’s suspicious glances. You’ve come a long way since you met the group nine months ago. They initially glared daggers at you, Sam especially, when you and Tara argued in front of them the first time. Well, argued wasn’t exactly the right word, more like a very heated disagreement on a minor detail in the movie you just watched. Now they just accepted it as normal between the two of you and learnt to ignore or find amusement in it.

You barely even remembered what the book you started arguing about was, but you remembered very clearly what the argument was. And you felt sorry for it right now, as you didn’t know how close to home you were hitting.

“It’s a debate, on whether or not people deserve a second chance,” Tara answered the question the teacher asked.

“Correct, thank you. And what would you say, Miss-“ the man paused, having yet to learn all your names.

“Carpenter, sir. I say it depends on what is done and if there is an excuse and effort to fix things,” she said, convinced of her belief.

She sat down as you watched her, you agreed with her, though in your experience people rarely put enough effort to fix things. Still, you wanted to see how strong her conviction was.

“Does anyone have a different opinion?” the teacher asked and you raised your hand. “Yes?”

“I disagree entirely. It doesn’t depend, there’s no going back after broken trust, there will always be cracks, fears, doubts,” you argued and saw Tara raising an eyebrow as you focused almost entirely on her. “And people rarely put enough effort to make it up to the one they hurt.”

Tara bit the corner of her lip, and you’d later find out it was a habit when she was getting a bit anxious. Since you found out you made sure to never bring her to that point. Well, nowadays your arguments were mostly silly. “It’s not just one person that needs to make an effort. Both need to do their part if they want to rebuild their relationship,” she countered, briefly apologizing to the teacher for speaking out of turn, but the man just gave the two of you a go ahead.

“People who hurt you, truly hurt you, leaving deep scars, emotional or of any other kind, either don’t love you, or have no control over themselves, and it takes a lot of effort to fix the second one,” rare few were strong and mature enough to fix that, to gain control, and not do it again, and even fewer did it while accepting that the one they hurt didn’t owe them a second chance.

“You can’t know what they went through, some people need help to do that,” Tara argued and you didn’t realize until later that day that she wasn’t just talking about some belief she had, that she actually went through that.

“Exactly, because I didn’t do it to them. And I refuse to pay for the damage someone else did,” you countered and the argument continued, going back and forth, without either of you being necessarily wrong or right, it really depended on the point of view. You just had the tendency to be a lot more direct and confident in your arguments, making them sound stronger than they perhaps truly were. Tara was more willing to meet in the middle, to avoid direct confrontation, and it made her a much more pleasant discussion partner.

~X~

Tara scrolled through her photos, through a secret album that required a password, just in case anyone got really curious. The photos were completely innocent, but it was the person she was with that made them a secret. And she grinned, looking at the two of you laughing, your arm around her as you hugged her from behind and she took the picture.

You loved going on her nerves, but you had your moments, rare moments where you were just completely soft with her. She had literature class twice a week, and two weeks in she was a hundred percent sure you were a menace she would gladly kick out of the class, just so she never had to look at your face and smug smile and rare, soft smile, ever again.

She noticed it in the second week, but she wrote it off as an accident. But the scent of cigarette smoke was weaker than the first week. You probably didn’t get a chance to smoke before class. And then the second week she realized she couldn’t smell cigarette smoke on you at all. She was breathing perfectly fine, nothing in her vicinity irritated her lungs, but she didn’t say anything. Surely you didn’t quit cigarettes for her.

Any idea that you did that went crashing down through the closed window on the third floor their classroom was on and landed on the harsh concrete with multiple deep lacerations from the glass. Because five minutes later you were arguing about the book that was assigned to read. Even the teacher was getting a bit annoyed by the two of you at this point. But he encouraged healthy debates, and you and Tara were, technically, still having just a debate.

The week after that, when she once more didn’t smell the familiar irritating scent she just had to ask. “Did you quit smoking?” it was rare for the two of you to have a civil conversation that probably couldn’t start an argument, but maybe this would end like that.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Figured it was healthier, and I really don’t want to trigger your asthma, so two birds with one stone, I guess,” you sounded confident, but you still looked away, proving to her that you could, after all, get a bit shy.

“Oh,” Tara, however, was blushing, the heat in her cheeks was damn near unbearable, because even Sam still smoked occasionally. “Thanks,” she pushed her chair a bit closer to you and pulled her things out of her bag.

“Don’t mention it,” you said softly. And then, as if your softer, gentles, kinder, side ran out of battery, you went right back to how things were the past couple of weeks. “Your essay is nonsense; I don’t agree with one thing you wrote.”

Curse the teacher for making you give each other your assignments to read and debate on! “Yours was complete bullshit, I swear you just typed words until you reached the necessary length,” she fired back, both of you already slightly grinning.

~X~

Tara was easily the best person you could have ended up sitting next to for your literature class, though you would never, absolutely never, say that to her face. The only issue was that you absolutely could not go one class without bickering.

You had a long night at work and were actually quite sleepy during the lesson one time, about a month into the semester, and you were catching every other word at best. Your notes weren’t making any sense, and you even had no energy to argue with Tara. So, maybe, just maybe, the day would end without arguing.

“Here,” Tara sighed, pushing her notebook closer to you near the end of the class and you raised an eyebrow. “Just copy my notes,” she told you.

You smiled, leaning closer to her and if anyone said your shoulders were touching they were being a huge liar. The biggest of them all, because there was absolutely no contact between you and Tara Carpenter.

None whatsoever.

“Tara,” you whispered and looked at her, completely serious. “Your handwriting is awful,” you told her, and you swore you saw a vein pop up on her forehead.

“That’s what I get for trying to help you,” she shook her head in disbelief, though she didn’t take her notebook back.

~X~

You and Tara rarely hung out outside of classes before she introduced you to her friends. But there was one time, when all her friends went back to their parents and Sam was working a night shift, so, Tara went to your apartment, dragged you out of your comfy bed, she actually did that. Well, she tried, she was strong given her size, but she wasn’t that strong.

You still remembered the terror you felt. You opened your doors to Tara, woken up about an hour after you fell asleep and let her in. You didn’t even argue, you just closed the doors behind her and went right to your bed and fell back onto it as she rambled about some party or whatever. Something about Sam not letting her go to a party alone, and you were her only option. How was she even going to explain to Sam that she wasn’t going alone? Sam had no idea you even existed!

Okay, maybe she did know you existed if Tara complained about you, but that definitely didn’t make you a fitting candidate to keep Tara company at a party. You were just about to fall back asleep, Tara being in your apartment didn’t bother you one bit, she’d get bored and leave. But then she began pulling your hand to get up.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumbled sleepily, and surprisingly she let go.

Which was very concerning.

You opened one eye and saw Tara taking several steps back with a very mischievous grin on her face and then charging forward. “Tara!” you cried out, fully awake and jumping to your feet as she landed on your bed, elbow right where your guts was, though you doubted that part was intentional.

Your bed miraculously survived the Tara bomb.

Tara laughed as she rolled to the side, lying her head on your pillow and an annoying part of your brain found the image in front of you rather appealing. “You should have seen the look on your face!” she exclaimed, holding her stomach while laughing.

You smirked, ready for verbal payback. “And you are really eager to ride me,” her laughter stopped, her face turned red and you, satisfied with your work, grabbed some clothes and went to the bathroom to change.

Luckily, you didn’t get too drunk that night and by the morning Sam had no idea Tara spent the night anywhere but in her bed. Though she, truthfully, crashed at your place for the night. You, of course, took the couch. And just thinking about sleeping on the couch made you frown. As that was what you’ve been doing for the past two weeks and your body was starting to get stiff, because that thing was not meant to be used for sleeping for extended periods of time.

You couldn’t say you regretted it though. You just couldn’t wait to get a new bed.

~X~

If there was one thing Tara learnt to appreciate about you, it was how predictable you were with her. Come hell or high water she could count on you to argue with her just because you found it fun to debate about things. And as months passed you went from annoying classmate always playing a devil’s advocate and arguing with her on everything, to an actually pleasant company. Most of the times. Sometimes.

She felt like she could trust you. She felt like she could fall for you and not regret it.0

What she didn’t expect was genuine compassion from you. And it happened so abruptly, so out of nowhere, she couldn’t even see it coming.

The two of you met at the front doors as you usually did for the few weeks prior to that day. And the floors were wet, just recently cleaned, but she was so out of it since she was accidentally reminded of Amber that she didn’t notice and she slipped, falling backwards. She wasn’t sure if she released any sounds, but the next moment you were behind her, holding her firmly, one of your hands on her side, the other around her shoulders, with the back of her head leaning on your chest. You were holding her, making sure you’d take the worst of the fall if you still went down, if you didn’t manage to stand firmly enough on the slippery floor.

“I got you,” you told her, clearly concerned, and Tara just leaned against you, barely supporting her weight.

“Can I trust you?” she asked, almost out of breath.

You nodded, your eyes filled with conviction. You weren’t messing around, you weren’t going to argue, you were there, one hundred percent. “I’m here for you, anytime,” you assured her and she grabbed onto your hand, still on her side, accidentally covering one of her stab wounds, and Tara, surprisingly felt completely safe, protected.

“Skip class with me?” she asked and you nodded, helping her regain her balance and the class was soon forgotten. She took you to your place, since Sam was still at home and your place was closer anyway.

You didn’t say one word, but you remained close to her, your hands brushing against one another as you walked and when you went into your apartment you sat down right next to her. Your presence was comforting, though at this point she wasn’t surprised by that.

Tara took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she wanted to do. She wanted to let you in, to fully trust you, to introduce you to her friends and Sam. “Do you know what happened in Woodsboro?” she began and your eyes widened, and that was all she needed to know as she began talking. She poured it all out, Sam, Amber, deaths of her dear friends, the betrayal, coming to New York, and what happened with Richie’s family, she told you everything. Every single feeling she had, things she found difficult to talk about with her therapist, or even with Sam, it just all burst out, like whatever contained those feelings suddenly burst and cracked, letting it all out.

And you remained silent, though you hugged her, tight and gentle at the same time. And it felt so good she climbed onto your lap, clutching at the back of your shirt, clinging to you as hard as she could. You didn’t complain, you just wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, your hands trembling slightly in barely concealed anger. Hearing you gritting your teeth, feeling your fingers twitching, and your body just barely relaxing when her warmth and weight, and voice right in your ear would remind you that she was, in fact, still here, it all felt good to her.

It felt like she was, at least a tiny bit, being released from the horrors she went through.

Though she still didn’t introduce you to others, it took nearly four months for that to happen, and by then, well, a lot of things happened.

~X~

You figured enough time passed that you could move away from your spot and leave the conversation you were having with Chad. “Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you purposely pointed toward the bathroom and hopped to your feet. You went into the hall, and making sure no one was behind you, just went the opposite way and snuck into Tara’s room.

She turned on her bed and smiled, reaching out for you as you knelt on her bed and kissed her soft lips. Damn, you wished you could do this freely, just kiss her whenever you wanted, but you understood her friends might not be ready to accept you as Tara’s girlfriend, and not just classmate she loved bickering with. You licked her lips, just lightly teasing her as she hugged you, her fingers already gently massaging the back of your head.

“I can’t believe the bickering is still working,” you muttered between the kisses. Sure, you and Tara still enjoyed an occasional debate here and there, but you stopped bickering almost a year ago! And the bickering still worked on her friends! And you’ve been sneaking behind their back, sneaking in kisses all over Tara’s apartment. In the kitchen, bathroom if you were really desperate, or the hall if you were feeling rather bold, but for the most part it was in her room, just like this. Tara would storm into her room, you’d wait, and go after her, sneaking a quick make-out session in before you’d come back from wherever you were.

Things were a bit different this time around, as Tara kissed you harder than before, pushing you until your positions were switched and she was straddling you. She grabbed onto your collar, pushing it to the side so she could kiss the spot where your neck and shoulder met, and, though a bit risky, she decided to leave a mark, biting the spot and sucking as you grabbed onto her hips to steady yourself.

“Tara,” you sat up, you both knew you didn’t have much time. “We shouldn’t risk it,” you told her, but you still pulled her in for another kiss, your tongues meeting as her hands gripped your shoulders.

“Just a bit more, I miss this,” she admitted, and you missed it too, and it was worth getting caught to you, but you weren’t completely sure it was worth it to Tara.

In the end, you just said screw it and kissed along her jaw, gradually going lower until your lips met her neck.

“Remember how flustered you got when I kissed you for the first time?” Tara asked out of blue, sighing and holding your head close to her neck. Well, maybe it wasn’t completely out of blue, next week would be a year since you got together.

“You were so damn smug about it,” you grumbled, though you still kissed the side of Tara’s neck, paying extra attention to the more sensitive spots, while, much to your annoyance, making sure you didn’t leave marks anywhere visible.

“Mhm, you deserve it for making me work for it,” she grinned, her hold on you growing stronger as she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning.

You pulled back and looked her in the eyes and then at her lips, inviting, beautiful. She was absolutely the most beautiful woman you ever saw, so no, Tara wasn’t pretty. She was much, much more than that. And you kissed her, pouring all of your passion and love for her into the kiss, deepening it as Tara moaned. The feeling of her body pressed against you made you wish you could just stop hiding from her friends and Sam.

And then four very loud gasps, followed by yelps and doors slamming against the wall and then bodies stumbling onto the floor on a pile of limbs and everything else, with poor Chad underneath the three women broke you and Tara apart.

“Y-You two are-“ Mindy stuttered, and you had to admit you enjoyed the professional expert being surprised.

“Together? Yes,” you shrugged, the cat was out of the bag, and you couldn’t exactly say you were arguing telepathically and needed to have your tongue deep inside Tara’s mouth to do so.

The four of them scrambled to their feet and just looked at you and Tara like nothing ever surprised them as much as this.

Eventually, Anika got over her surprise and offered an open palm to Mindy and Chad. “Pay up, I guessed it right,” Anika demanded from them.

The twins groaned and you and Tara watched incredulously as they each pulled out twenty bucks and gave them to Anika. But nothing, not twins and Anika betting on whether you and Tara were together, not their surprised faces, not your secret being revealed, nothing. Absolutely nothing compared to Sam’s expression. She looked like someone completely shattered her brain.

“Sam?” Tara tried calling her sister, just to snap her out of the stupor.

“You two… for how long?” Sam managed to utter.

“Uh, before you guys even met me,” you admitted sheepishly, and nudged Tara to get off your lap, but she was comfortable and very few things could get Tara off your lap, especially now that you two got caught.

Not that you minded, you loved when she was on your lap, but her sister might get a heart attack if this continues, and you didn’t want Sam to die.

Sam nodded, she nodded several times, humming to herself before she just walked out of Tara’s room. “She’ll get used to it,” Tara shrugged as Sam gave you two a thumbs up.

Sam took a deep, rather audible breath and came back, pointing right at you. “Don’t break Tara’s heart,” she warned with her best glare, which was actually intimidating.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Tara reassured her before you could answer, and frankly, you loved how quickly she said that. “We kinda broke her bed back at her place, so… not saying that won’t happen ever again,” she chuckled sheepishly as your eyes widened and you all turned to Tara. Well, you did break the bed, but she did not need to tell them that.

Sam opened her mouth, but then closed it as Tara shrugged, acting like she was completely innocent in that case of property damage.

“I think we might have broken Sam,” Tara told you, clearly surprised that that was even a possibility, and she glanced at the rest of your friends and then gestured at the doors.

“Right! Got it!” they scampered outside as you and Tara chuckled, and just like that you were alone once more.

“I love you, you know,” you said as you kissed her cheek and she just grinned.

“I know,” she smirked, barely holding her laughter back as you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, come the fuck on!” you groaned, dropping down onto the bed and pulling Tara on top of you.

Tara laughed like she just heard the best joke ever. Well, she did love teasing you. “I love you too,” she said as her laughter subsided and she kissed you on the lips.

[tempobaekh]

Light in the darkness

Pairings: grumpy!bucky x sunshine!nurse!f!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, a bit of asshole bucky, hurt to comfort, kind of enemies to lovers but it’s mostly buck, no reader physical description so can be read as any appearance, female reader

A/N: got inspired to write this one after i came across @apparentlytheproblem account and enemies to lovers prompt list. there is a lot of good stuff there so i thank her for motivating me to write this, I used some of the prompts from that list, they will be highlighted in the fic. also got the trope inspiration from @buckyalpine (I absolutely love your writing) this fic here I absolutely love it, with perfect amount of angst and cuteness please go read it!! anyways enough of my yapping, enjoy reading!!<3 (also please listen to these two in this order for more feels, I myself was listening to them while writing this and omfg it got me in the feeeels)

The infirmary of the Avengers compound is a well-lit, sterile environment, but you've managed to make it warm with your presence.

Cute little potted plants all over that were practically your babies, small fidgeting gadgets for anyone to fidget with (particularly for Bruce and Tony), small snacks placed in different containers scattered around the infirmary (frequently emptied by Tony), and a few stuffed animals placed here and there, all meant to make the space less intimidating.

You’ve always been a naturally optimistic person, someone who sees the best in everyone and everything. The Avengers compound, with its high-stakes missions and often tense atmosphere, was a perfect place for you to share your sunny disposition.

The team appreciated it—your laughter, your kindness, your unwavering positivity. They said you were a breath of fresh air, a light in the often dark world they navigated.

Every day, you greet the team with a cheerful smile, your laughter echoing through the corridors like a soothing melody. Everyone seems to love you—everyone except for Bucky Barnes.

From the moment Bucky set foot in the compound, he knew he was out of place. Haunted by his past, he kept his distance from everyone, preferring the silence and solitude of his own company, he mostly stuck to Steve and would occasionally have a Sam-sized problem hanging behind him.

He barely speaks to anyone, and when he does, it’s usually to snap or grumble. With you, he’s even worse. There’s an edge to his voice, a coldness in his eyes that seems to cut through your sunny disposition like a knife.

When he first saw you, with your bright smile and cheerful demeanor, he felt a strange pang in his chest—a mix of longing and irritation.

You were everything he felt he could never be again: light-hearted, carefree, a beacon of hope in a world that still felt foreign and hostile to him.

A world where he was still hated by some- or many.

Every time you laughed, it reminded him of what he had lost, of the darkness that had claimed his tortured and scarred soul. He hated that feeling, that reminder, and by extension, he hated that you were the one to evoke it.

From the moment you met him, he seemed determined to extinguish your light. His coldness was a stark contrast to your warmth, his gruff demeanor a perpetual challenge to your cheerful one.

At first, you chalked it up to his history, his need for time to adjust and heal. You were patient, giving him space while still trying to make him feel welcome.

Every day, you made small efforts to connect with him. You brought him coffee with extra sugar, hoping the gesture would soften his grumpy exterior. You cracked light-hearted jokes, trying to coax a smile out of him. You even complimented his metal arm, not out of pity, but genuine admiration. Yet, every attempt was met with indifference or a sharp retort.

Your jokes were often greeted with a curt nod or a dismissive grunt, and your compliments seemed to make him even more uncomfortable, his eyes narrowing as if questioning your sincerity.

Despite your efforts Bucky kept his distance and rejected. When you brought him coffee with extra sugar, he grumbled about preferring it black.

“I prefer my coffee black,” he would say, barely looking at you as he set the cup aside, not noticing the hurt look on your face.

When you made light-hearted jokes, he responded with curt nods or dismissive remarks. When you complimented his metal arm, he saw it as pity, a reminder of his brokenness. Your persistent cheerfulness was like a spotlight on his scars, and he resented you for it.

But deep down, Bucky knew that his anger wasn't really directed at you. It was aimed at himself, at the man he used to be and the man he thought he could never become again.

Your presence forced him to confront emotions he had buried deep within himself—emotions he didn't know how to handle. Every time you tried to break through his defenses, it was like a chisel chipping away at the walls he had built around his heart, and it terrified him.

Each brush-off, each cold response, chipped away at your resolve, leaving you more confused and hurt.

It wasn’t just the rejection that stung; it was the feeling that you were the only one he treated this way.

Everyone else seemed to get along with him fine, or at least, they didn’t bear the brunt of his sharp edges. You couldn’t understand why you were the exception, why he seemed to harbor a special kind of disdain just for you.

You tried not to let it show, maintaining your sunny facade for the sake of the team. But inside, every encounter with Bucky left a small, invisible wound.

You would smile through the pain, and laugh through the hurt, but the weight of his rejection grew heavier with each passing day.

Nights were the hardest, lying in bed replaying your interactions, wondering what you had done to earn his ire. Wondering and thinking where you went wrong, blaming everything on yourself.

And yet, despite the pain, you found yourself drawn to him. Maybe it was the challenge he represented, the mystery of his cold exterior, and the glimpses of vulnerability you occasionally saw.

There were moments, fleeting and rare, where you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes—a hint of sorrow, a flicker of regret. Those moments made you wonder about the man beneath the armor, the soul behind the scowl.

Gradually, your frustration and sadness turned into something more complex.

You began to care for him, despite his harshness.

You noticed the way his jaw clenched when he was upset, the way his eyes softened when he thought no one was watching, the way he fiddled with either his dog tags around his neck or his sleeve when he would get anxious, the way the sound of any whirring machine close to him would subtly make him jump.

You saw the pain he carried, the ghosts that haunted him, and your heart ached for him.

You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to show him that he didn’t have to face his demons alone.

But every time you tried, he pushed you away, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Your feelings grew in the quiet moments, in the way you found yourself thinking about him even when he wasn’t around, in the way your heart raced at the sound of his voice, even when it was laced with irritation.

You realized you were falling for him, despite his best efforts to keep you at arm’s length.

You were falling for James Buchanan Barnes.

And he hated you.

One evening, after a particularly brutal mission, you’re restocking the infirmary when the door slams open. You jump, nearly dropping a box of gauze.

When Bucky stumbled into the infirmary, bleeding and in pain, he didn't want to admit to himself why he came to you. He could have gone to anyone else, but something—an instinct, a need—drove him to seek you out.

Bucky stumbles in, clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers. His face is pale, eyes dark with pain and something else—frustration? Anger? It’s hard to tell.

“Barnes!” you exclaim, rushing to his side. “What happened?”

A strange mix of emotions flooded you. Concern for his well-being, of course, but also a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the moment he finally let you in.

He grunts, shaking his head as if to dismiss your concern. “Just patch me up.”

You guide him to a bed, your hands surprisingly steady given the state he’s in. You quickly gather the necessary supplies, your mind racing with questions.

Why did he come to you? He usually avoids you like the plague, very often going to Helen instead of you no matter the severity of the injury.

As you begin to clean his wound, he hisses, muscles tensing under your touch.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your tone soft.

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those intense baby-blue eyes. It’s unnerving, but you refuse to let it shake you. Instead, you focus on your work, your movements gentle yet efficient.

Bucky watched you work with a mixture of frustration and awe. Your hands were gentle, your touch soothing, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel vulnerable in your presence.

As you stitch him up, the silence between you grows heavier, filled with unspoken words and unexpressed emotions.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You wrap up the last of his wound and look him straight in the eye. “Bucky, why do you hate me so much?” your voice trembled with frustration and hurt.

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your question and his response took you by surprise. “I don’t hate you.”

You blink for a second and then scoff, shaking your head, trying to process his words. “You could’ve fooled me. You’ve been nothing but cold and an asshole since the day we met. I just don’t get it. Everyone else likes me, but you. You go out of your way to avoid me like I'm some plague! You always brush me off rudely and call me a bother when I try speaking to you only to speak with the others like it's nothing! You can't even give me the decency of respect, you pretend that I don't even exist!."

You stop, realizing you have almost gone to shouting, and take a deep breath in.

"Why?" your voice is quiet and broken, hurt and horse. Your eyes glazing with unshed tears,

Bucky felt a surge of conflicting emotions. He wanted to push you away, to keep you at a distance where you couldn't hurt him. Where he couldn't hurt you with his broken soul, and the demons from his past.

But the heart-shattering sadness on your usually lit-up face, made him also want to pull you closer, to let you in and see the parts of him he kept hidden. It was a battle between his fear and his longing, and for the first time, he felt the fear of losing.

Specifically, losing you.

“I’m not...used to feeling this way, okay?” he snaps, the admission seeming to cost him. His jaw clenches, and he looks away, refusing to meet your gaze.

For the first time, you saw something other than anger in his eyes.

Vulnerability.

Fear.

“Feeling what way?” you press, your voice shaking slightly, your frustration bubbling over. “What did I ever do to you?”

He’s silent for a long moment, the tension in the room almost suffocating. Finally, he lets out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his emotions pressing down on him. “I feel the opposite of hate...towards you,” he admitted, his voice raw and honest.

The revelation left you breathless. All this time, you thought he despised you, but in reality, he was struggling with feelings he didn’t know how to handle. Your heart ached for him, for the battles he fought within himself.

He watched your eyes widen in surprise, your mind trying to process his words.

The words hang in the air, and you can hardly believe your ears. “You...what?” your voice barely a whisper.

Bucky turns to face you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and determination. “You heard me. I don’t hate you., far from it. You’re always so...bright and happy. It messes with my head. Makes me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. You make me realize that I can feel a romantic attraction towards someone, you make me realize that I can have some goodness in life. You make me feel want. To want something and not feel selfish.”

You blink, trying to process his confession. “You...want me?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Without hesitation, he answers, “You know I do.”

A slow smile spread across your face, and for the first time in a long while, Bucky felt a glimmer of hope.

The weight of his confession settled over you, bringing with it a mixture of relief and tenderness. You smiled a slow, genuine smile that lit up your face. “Such a pretty liar, mhmm. And here I stressed over that you hated me.” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, his usual gruff demeanor softening.

He grumbles, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Shut up and kiss me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a sweet, tender kiss. It’s hesitant at first as if you’re both testing the waters, but it quickly deepens, the pent-up emotions of the past months pouring out in that one perfect moment. It was a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words, the hidden feelings, the pain and hope intertwined.

When you leaned in and kissed him, it was like a dam breaking. All the emotions he had bottled up for so long—fear, longing, hope—flooded out in that one perfect moment.

Your lips were soft and warm against his, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt at peace.

As the kiss deepened, Bucky knew that things wouldn’t be easy. He still had a long way to go, and there were still demons he needed to face. But with you by his side, he felt a renewed strength, a reason to keep fighting.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, Bucky felt something he hadn’t felt in years: happiness. Maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his past mistakes. With you, he could be the man he once was—the man he wanted to be.

You pulled back, breathless and smiling, and a little dazed, you knew that this was just the beginning. It wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, you felt like you had a chance to break through his walls, to reach the man behind the mask.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “Maybe you’re not such a grump after all.”

Bucky smirks, a rare but genuine smile lighting up his face. “Don’t push your luck.”

You giggle, the sound like music to his ears.

As you finish bandaging his wounds, the atmosphere between you has shifted. There’s a new understanding, a connection that wasn’t there before. Maybe things won’t be easy, and maybe Bucky will always be a bit of a grump, but you’re determined to be his sunshine, to bring light into his dark world.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you.

Bucky's confession had changed everything. In the days following that night in the infirmary, his demeanor towards you began to shift.

The once icy wall he maintained seemed to melt slightly, and while he wasn't exactly warm, there was a newfound softness in his eyes when he looked at you.

Still, the past months of his coldness and hostility left a lingering tension between you, a wound that needed healing.

You knew that a kiss and a confession would not be enough to cure his long-standing hostility toward you; you knew you both needed to have a conversation.

One evening, you stayed late at the compound, finishing up some paperwork in the infirmary. The sun had long set, casting the room in a dim, serene glow from the soft lights overhead.

You were engrossed in your work when you heard a knock at the door. Looking up, you saw Bucky standing there, looking hesitant and unsure. Your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of anticipation and wariness flooding you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, stepping inside.

“Hey there you,” you replied softly, setting your pen down. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, his expression serious. “I need to talk to you.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to sit in the white chair, that currently had a cute Dumbo plush placed on it. Bucky grabbed the plush before sitting down and placed it in his lap, fidgeting with the ears, his large frame taking up more space than usual, his presence filling the room.

There was a moment of silence, and you could see he was struggling to find the right words.

“I’ve been an asshole,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve treated you terribly, and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

You watched him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Bucky-”

He held up a hand, stopping you. “Please, let me finish, I've been wanting to say this for a while because you deserve an apology. You’ve been nothing but kind and patient with me, and I repaid you with coldness and cruelty. I pushed you away because...because I was scared. Scared of what I was feeling, scared of getting close to someone again. I know my behavior is not to be excused but I'm being honest doll." he pleaded.

You swallowed hard, the raw honesty in his words touching something deep inside you. “I get it, Bucky. But it still hurt.”

“I know,” he said, his voice pained.

He stepped towards you, gently taking your gentle hands into his calloused ones and continuing to speak while tracing patterns on your skin with his thumb, the gesture comforting him. “And I’m so sorry for that. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. What I can do is promise to make it up to you. I want to show you that you won’t regret giving me a chance.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a tentative hope blooming within you. “How do you plan to do that?”

He looked at you with such intensity that it took your breath away. “By being there for you, by treating you the way you deserve to be treated. I want to make you happy, sweetness. I want to be the man you see in me, the man you’ve been so kind and patient with.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity and determination in his voice. “Oh Buck…”

“I crave you, doll,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I crave your touch, your smile, your laughter. Every part of you. I’ve tried to fight it, but I can’t anymore. I need you.”

The intensity of his confession left you breathless. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I need to know you mean it,” you whispered, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt.

He covered your hand with his, his grip firm and reassuring. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll spend every day of my life proving it to you if I have to.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. More intense than the last one. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him. The kiss deepened, filled with all the pent-up emotions and longing that had been building between you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “You really want this? You really want me?”

“More than anything,” he said without hesitation. “You have no idea how much.”

A slow smile spread across your face, a mixture of relief and joy washing over you. “Well then, show me, Barnes.”

He grinned, a rare and genuine smile that made your heart soar. “With pleasure.”

He kissed you again, this time with even more passion and intensity. His hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer, any distance in between being excruciating. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you poured all your emotions into the kiss. It was a promise, a beginning, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly hopeful.

As the kiss ended, Bucky rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “You won’t regret this, doll. I promise.”

“I believe you,” you whispered, feeling the truth of his words in your heart.

The moment of intimacy is shattered by the sound of cheering and whooping from the doorway. Startled, you both turn to see Tony, Natasha, Steve, and Sam standing there, grinning like a bunch of mischievous teenagers who had just witnessed their friends’ first kiss.

“Finally!” Tony exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I thought I was going to have to script it out for you two. Turns out Terminator actually has the balls to confess." he snickered, seizing a snack packet of dried blueberries and munching on them.

Natasha smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Took you long enough, Barnes. We were beginning to think you’d never make a move.” the redhead pauses and winks at you.

Steve steps forward, a proud smile on his face. “About time, punk. I knew you had it in you.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “And here I was thinking the Winter Soldier was all cold and no heart. Looks like our sunshine melted the ice.”

You feel your face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and amusement washing over you. Bucky, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Do you guys mind?”

Tony steps forward, still grinning and munching on his snack. “Not at all. We’ve been waiting for this moment for months. I mean, the tension was practically killing us.”

Natasha nods in agreement. “It was like watching a bad rom-com where the leads are too stubborn to admit they like each other.”

Bucky sighs, shaking his head but there’s a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Well, enjoy the show. It’s over now.”

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it’s over. I think it’s just getting started.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Alright, alright. You’ve had your fun. Now, can we have a moment?”

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll leave you lovebirds alone. But don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

He turns to you and points at the packet in his hand, "Also thanks for this sweets," and struts out.

As the group begins to disperse, Natasha gives you a wink. “We’re happy for you, babe. You deserve it.”

Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder. “Good job, Buck.”

Once they’re gone, you turn back to Bucky, who’s shaking his head, a look of exasperated affection on his face. “I swear, they’re worse than a bunch of kids.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think it’s sweet. They care about us.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Yeah, well, as long as I get you to myself now.”

You lean in, brushing your lips against his. “You do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

As you kiss him again, the echoes of your friends’ teasing fade away, leaving just the two of you in the warm, comforting glow of newfound love.

With that, you knew that this was the start of something new, something beautiful. It wouldn’t be easy, but together, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. And with Bucky by your side, you knew you could handle anything.

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

[tofics]

Almost Like You Need Someone

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Song Inspo: Be Someone by Benson Boone

Summary: You, Dean and Sam are fighting America's monsters together. Coming from a long line of hunters, you fit right in with the Winchester boys, with one exception: your character shines as bright as the sun, bringing light even into the darkest corners of every place you go. Dean's never seen anything like it. Before he knows it, he's become infatuated with you...

Word count: 2434 words

Warnings: mention of child death, other than that it's just fluff!

A/N: I came across the song that inspired this one shot yesterday and got to writing pretty much right away. I couldn't help but imagine what could have become of Dean if he'd had a constant source of happiness in his life and this one shot is what came out of that. Just pure fluff. I couldn't stop grinning while writing this 🤪 I integrated the song's lyrics here and there. I highly recommend listening to the song before/during reading. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 🤭

Bobby introduced you to the boys, one lonesome duckling getting paired with two other lonesome ducklings. Together, the three of you take on the world as a flock. You’ve hunted together with Dean and Sam for quite some time now. Just one and a half years older than Sam, you’ve grown quite comfortable sandwiched between the two Winchester boys.

The work isn’t easy. More often than not, you return from a hunt covered in gore from head to toe. Blood, intestines, slime - you’ve been doused in it all, and then some. Despite the gruesome nature of your job, you have a way of keeping a light heart around it all. It’s physically challenging - but it keeps you fit. You have no permanent home - but you get to travel the country. You don’t get paid in dollars, but in the gratitude of the people you’ve saved. Whatever happens - you’ll find a way of putting a positive spin on it.

And it’s not just for show either. You’re a good-natured spirit through and through, bringing light and smiles to every room you set a foot into.

It’s one of the many things that have Dean completely puzzled and amazed at the same time. He's never seen anything like it. How someone who grew up in the hunter’s business could be as lighthearted as you are is beyond him, even though he knows your story. Your family has been hunting what goes bumping in the night for generations. It’s this expertise that has brought about your family’s devotion to a happy life: to fight the dark, you need to carry light in your heart. With two parents who doted on you any second they were not wrapped up in a hunt, you got raised in a world where there were monsters under your bed, but also parents by your side to teach you how to deal them. For each terror you fought, your parents would go out of their way to show you not one, but two instances of the good and beautiful in the world. They kept your scale balanced and ignited the spark that grew into the light you now carry within you, spreading it towards anyone you meet. And it’s infectious.

It starts slow. At first, it’s an easy smile that appears on Dean’s face anytime you enter the room without him even being aware of it. It grows wider when you give him a smile of your own, and you do, every day, without fail. He finds himself making jokes just to hear your laugh. It hasn’t yet occurred to him that he wants to be the reason that the corners of your lips turn upwards, that he wants to be the one to put that spark in your eyes.

On long research nights at the library, he gets you coffee, making you giggle when he tells Sam to get his own with a wink at you. It’s disguised as silly banter between brother and brother, not clear favoritism for you.

You connect with victims and their families in your own, heartfelt way that reminds him of the way his mother used to tend to him when he was small. There’s kindness and softness in your voice and more often than not, you end up wiping tears of your face as you’re told about the people the families are grieving. He teases you about it but hopes you never stop.

A small voice appears in his head and questions him when he makes sure not to sit next to you every time you guys go out to eat a diner so as not to raise suspicion. ‘Suspicion of what?’ the small voice says, but he shoves it aside and tells it to shut it, the same way he tells Sammy to quit yapping when he’s going on his nerves.

He shares little about his past but answers honestly when you ask, just not in so many words. Part of him doesn’t like talking about it, even if it’s you. The other part of him wants you to do the talking. Doesn’t matter what it’s about. He wants to know it all. Sam can share one of his literature findings and it goes into one ear and out the other, unless it’s case-related. You, on the other hand, get started on a ramble about the cinematography of a French movie you saw last night, and he finds himself intrigued with your analysis, despite never having cared for any French movie of any kind. Sam is happy to join the conversation, having seen the movie himself, and it’s the first time he gives Dean a look of suspicion. “Since when do you care about this stuff?” Dean grunts. “I don’t. It’s just that she makes it sound a LOT more interesting than you do.” He slaps his baby brother on the back of the head and that’s the end of that. For a while.

You share your time equally with the brothers, naturally flowing from one to the other as the situation sees fit. Never having been one to shy away from body contact, you’re often sprawled out over the two of them on the couches that are slightly too big for two and awkwardly too small for three in your motel rooms. A head leaning on Sam’s shoulder, one leg stretched out over Dean’s lap. Sleeping arrangements usually turn out in your favor, although you never ask to be treated with privilege. The boys insist: you get one side of the bed, always. A quick game of rock, paper, scissors determines who gets the other side and who gets the couch. The longer you three travel together, the more Dean hopes to beat the game, although he loses to Sam more often than he likes. The small voice becomes louder in those nights on the couch, when he’s tossing and turning and telling himself that the only reason he wants to be on one side of that bed is not because you’re on the other side of it, but because the cushions of the sofa are all worn out and uncomfortable and he’ll wake up with a stiff neck. Still, the small sting he feels when he wakes in the morning and sees you sprawled across the bed, your head nestled against Sam’s arm, is undeniable. “Wake up, you two love-birds,” he tends to say and throws a pillow at Sam’s face, never at you. Without fail, Sam throws the pillow back, paired with a grouchy “shut up” and an eye-roll. It makes you laugh, the way the two sometimes bicker like an old married couple. Dean wonders if Sam truly feels as nonchalant about it as he appears or if he enjoys the way you cuddle up to him at night. On the rare occasions that Dean does share the bed with you, you try to keep on your side of the bed after you noticed him stiffen up when you rolled up against him. He often thinks about telling you that you don't have to do that, that you can cuddle up to him in bed the same way you do on the couch, but he doesn't know how without it sounding awkward.

One day, your trio gets a particularly rough case. This time, there's a child among the victims. He sees the family's grief rip into you and bury its claws deep, fueled by your empathy that he's come to see as a strength, rather than a weakness. It takes you longer to recover than it normally does. Despite killing the responsible monster and setting an end to its killing spree, the light that usually shines so bright within you remains dim. Both Sam and Dean feel the affect the child's death has had on you.

Sam, ever the more capable one when it comes to feelings, asks if you want to talk about it. And although it's not Dean's field of expertise, he listens intently. He wants to know about your pain, even if he doesn't know how to take it from you. He lets Sam do most the talking but keeps looking at you through the rearview mirror. That's when he sees it for the first time, the smallest look from behind your eyes when yours meet his - that this is a moment where you need someone to be the light. That night, he gets on Sam's laptop and does some research of his own.

The next day, him and Sam are arguing about the best possible route towards their next stop. On other days, you would intervene, but you remain silent and look out the window, leaving him and Sam to figure it out on their own. Sam is convinced the direction Dean wants to go is a detour, but Dean insists it's the correct way. Half an hour later, the three of you drive through a town's main street when you suddenly come to live in the backseat: you've spotted a pet shop, its window full with a litter of puppies climbing over themselves. You turn to Dean in the driver's seat and ask if you can make a quick stop here. Already, there's a stronger glow in your eyes than there was a moment ago. "Sure, why not," he replies. "I could use a bit of a stretch for my legs."

When you step out to go see the puppies, Sam looks at him with a knowing smile. "That was nice of you." - "I have no idea what you're talking about." Dean gets out of the care and stretches his legs, but Sam is quick to follow him. "Dude." He rests his arms Baby's roof and watches Dean stalk around the car. "You never take driving breaks except to take a piss. I've never once seen you 'stretch your legs' before." He puts his hands in the air, miming air-quotes. "So what? I'm sore from the hunt. Son of a bitch had me sprinting." Dean shrugs and leans against the hood of the car, apparently all done with his mini-workout. Sam just smiles that knowing smile again. "Sure. Whatever you say." A couple of minutes later, you return to the car. Your light is not back to full capacity quite yet, but there's color in your cheeks and crinkles by your eyes, leftover from the smile that's still lingering on your lips. "How was it?" Sam asks when you sit down on the backseat. You lean forward and grip the edges of their seat. "So. Many. Puppies," you say in a breathy voice. "Cuteness overload. I think I died and went to heaven for a moment there." Both the brothers chuckle and you settle into your seat while Dean gets Baby back on the road. Sam glances in the rearview mirror and sees you have resumed your position at the window, but you seem more light-weighted than you did just a few minutes ago. Another glance at his big brother and he smiles to himself. Bringing the smile count in the car to three, Dean is wearing his satisfied smile proudly.

From there on, Sam subtly removes himself from your trio now and then. He suggests you and Dean talk to a victim's friend while he'll speak to the professor they think could help them. During another late night at yet another library, he purposely sits diagonally from you, leaving the chair opposite and next to you open. He offers to get dinner, leaving you and Dean at the motel room the three of you have booked for the night.

Dean doesn't notice. He's too busy finding the balance between what he wants and what he thinks is appropriate. What he wants is you, to be near you, all the time. The light in you is addicting. It's such a stark contrast to everything he's known for most of his life. When his mother passed, the darkness that took over John and consumed him also infected Dean. He did his best to shield his baby brother from it, and sometimes, when he looks at Sam, he can see that his efforts weren't in vain. The youngest Winchester has an optimism about him that Dean never found himself. He's happy for his brother. It's never crossed his mind than in the process of protecting Sam, he never took care of himself. His own twilight never seemed so troublesome, he got used to it after all and eventually knew his way around, the way you can walk through your own house in the pitch-black of night and not knock into anything because you know where everything is placed. He didn't need to light a match or even a candle, it was always just bright enough to make out the outline of the furniture. That is, until he met you, and you shone so bright that, for a brief moment, his insights got illuminated, like the headlights of a passing car briefly dancing across a room at night, and suddenly, the furniture turned from grey to color.

And now he needs more. He didn't know how intoxicating a person could be, until he met you. Suddenly, a lit match isn't enough, neither is a candle. He needs your floodlights, the way a ship needs a beacon. He's drawn to you like a moth to the flame.

And sure, he could live without you. He's lived in the semi-darkness for so long and it's familiar, but now he's seen color, and fuck, he wants it.

But more than that, he wants to be someone for you. He sees what you do for the world and wants to give it back to you, doubled, tripled, quadroupled. He wants to be your someone to have, someone to hold, your somewhere to go when nights get cold. He wants to be the one to sweep you off your feet.

However, wanting one thing and doing it can be two different things at opposite ends of the spectrum. The more he's drawn to you, the less he finds the words to tell you so. 'What if's cross his mind. What if you don't feel the same? What if, by admitting how he feels, he ruins what you guys have? It keeps him up at night while he wishes that he was the reason to keep you up.

It doesn't seem so hopeless, though. From time to time, you give him the smallest look from behind your eyes, and it's almost like you need someone. And every single time, without fail, he thinks that he could be that someone.

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

Find part 2 here! - Masterlist

[rubyvhs]

stars (castiel novak)

pairing; castiel novak x reader tags; fluff, hardly any angst, inexperienced cas summary; you find cas after his argument with dean and one thing leads to another.

masterlist

Screw the Winchesters for ever hurting Cas. Dean just— he yells, and screams, and he doesn’t stop until he or the person in front of him are hurt. It sucks. Because more often than not, Sam or Cas are that person. Thank God Dean respects women as much as he does because a vamp nest i can take— a screaming fest? Sign me out.

But he isn’t easy on the boys, especially Cas. The angel had to prove himself to Dean— to all of us, really, so many times it should’ve worn him out years ago, but he’s still here, despite it all, and this is the thanks he gets for saving our asses all the time? It isn’t right.

Usually after Dean has an episode Cas likes to disappear. Sam went with his brother while I followed Cas to see that he’s thankfully still there. In the astronomy room. We found it a few months ago and I got to name it. The men of letters seemed to have a knack for stars because the projection on the ceiling is a live image of the stars at the moment. It’s beautiful. 

It’s also special. I’ve never sat in this room with anyone other than Cas. It’s our thing, at least for me, I’m not sure what his thoughts on the room are. 

“Cas?” He doesn’t look at me from his spot leaning on the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “Cas,” I whisper thoughtfully this time, and he faces me. “Can I sit?” 

He shrugs and it’s all the invitation I need. Castiel has learned to understand and deal with human emotions so well over the years that sometimes I forget he isn’t one. He’s responds to Dean so expertly. Especially Dean. Profound bond and whatnot. “Dean is being ridiculous, obviously.”

He doesn’t respond. “C’mon, you know how he is, he gets mad at something as. Waits for someone to blow up on—”

“I know that. I’m not sulking.”

“Then what are you doing here?” No response. “Cas, are you okay?”

“The stars, they’re beautiful.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t want to lie to you.” I sigh, moving only a little closer, “I do not care what Dean does, or his opinion on the matter, what I did was what we needed.”

“You almost melted the guy’s brain, but yeah, I get it.”

“He will live, and Dean will learn to be alright. It is you who I fear would not forgive me.” My eyes widened. Me? First of all, what the hell does that mean, since when does an Angel of the Lord care if I forgive him? Second, forgive him for what? I just said I get it. “You are the only soul on earth who I haven’t looked at directly.” 

My breath hitches in my throat and I can’t even process his words. I didn’t know he could even control that. “I can not control who’s souls I can and can not see— but for all the years I have been with the Winchesters they’ve been very open with me, they bared their souls to me. Well, Dean didn’t have a choice, but Sam saw Angels as some kind of saving graces, he eagerly showed me himself. You have too, to some extent, but I haven’t been able to let my grace free when I’m around you.”

That’s two years of holding his breath when I’m around. Two years of not being comfortable when I’m there and two years of no eye contact. Most of the time all I get is a glance. Most of the time I don’t get anything at all. 

“Why?”

“Because your soul will—” he lets out a small laugh (i decide it is my favorite sound in the world) and shakes his head, he whispers my name, “it will blind me.”

“Cas,” I mumble. We’re both moving closer. His lips are so close. “What does that mean?”

“That I’m scared to lose you as I am the Winchesters,” I swallow nothing and try to calm my nerves but he’s doing that thing Dean taught him with his eyes and they’re going from my lips to my eyes and fuck, its chemical. “I am worried to lose any part of you. Your affection for me, however different from mine to you.”

“Cas. Kiss me.” It takes him a while to understand that it’s an order, and that I am consenting, but when he does— God, I don’t want to say it’s fireworks (it is), or that his lips taste like cotton candy (they do, courtesy of Dean’s gum), or that it kind of maybe changes me completely. 

He pulls away first. “I tried when I was human, and once when I was an angel, a long time ago, but was that correct?”

I don’t know if I want to kiss him again or compliment and affirm to him that everything he does is correct till tomorrow. I choose the former but promise the latter that we will meet again. We move against each other, smoother than i ever have considering I don’t do this often, and he’s so good you would never know just how inexperienced he is. 

“My soul?” I smile into it.

“Blindingly beautiful.” I’m sure he can’t actually see it right at this moment with his eyes only half open to stare at my lips, but it’s enough for me.

It takes longer but I pull away this time. His hand is still on my cheek and he’s slowly pulling me in and out, just brushing his lips against mine while I try to talk. Where did he learn to do all of this? “Cas, what does— Cas—”

Talking’s always been overrated. Especially when we don’t have time.

[rosie-writings]

You Need a Melody

Kinktober Day 1: Dirty Talk

Summary: In the middle of an investigation, you lose focus because Colby doesn’t understand the effect his voice has on you, so he ends up bringing you back to his hotel for the night but not without tormenting you for the rest of the job.

Warnings: Semi Public smut, Unprotected sex, Voice kink, Dirty talk, Degradation, slight Praise kink…

Words: 8.1k

Title is from ‘Higher’ by Sleep Token

Note: I chose a to write about a real investigation from their channel to aid with inspiration. Not knowing that it was a sad ending, I diverted from the video midway through because it felt disrespectful to not due to the nature of this story.

There was something about the sound of it that put my stomach in a twist breathing alone couldn’t undo.

The wind was still cool enough for us to pull on our jackets by the time the sun tapped the horizon, and I was impressed I made it that long without it considering my arms crawled with goosebumps from the moment we stepped out of the car. I blamed it on the crisp spring New York air. 

No one else had goosebumps though, so then I decided to pretend like I was sensitive to the cold. But I wasn’t often bothered by the cold. 

“What does the C and M stand for?” Sam asks as he points to the clear K and M on the door.

”That’s definitely a K—“

”Kall… Me… Kris,” Kris says, cutting me off, and follows it up with a dramatic gasp.

”Oh, so it’s all about Kris now,” Colby laughs but instead of saying anything else, Sam shoves the camera in Colby’s face.

”I see a scary man, do ya’ll see that scary man?” Colby says as he stares into the setting sun. His eyes are blank as he stares at them as if not a thought is behind that poor man’s eyes. 

“What did you take?” Kris bursts out laughing.

”He doesn’t have to take anything to look like that unfortunately,” I laugh. 

“Goddamn,” he laughs before he turns around and busts the door open.

”Ladies first!” He says happily and Kris complains about walking in first. We all pause laughing as Kris walks in looking very similar to the girl standing emoji.

“You can go next, Sam,” I sigh as I shove him. The camera shakes in his hand and he gasps.

”Actually you can!” He says and grabs my wrist and yanks me through the threshold. My nose scrunches as I’m dragged across the wood of the porch. 

I’m hyper aware of the low laugh on my other side as I’m shoved into the same course Kris first took.

As we snoop around the house, Sam and Colby also explain some of the history of the house in between jokes. Something about putting Sam and Colby, Kris and Celena, and I in the same house either scares the ghosts away or gives us a false sense of security because there was more messing around and teasing one another than real investigation for the first twenty minutes. I didn’t have a problem with that.

I am convinced there are no ghosts in this house when all five of us get along like this. I also am sure that I would be the one replacing the ghosts for content because if I had to withstand listening to Colby speak like this for another day, there is no promising I would come out of this house alive.

It took going up to the top story for it to start though.

Dizzy, Kris plops into a chair and Celena sits next to her. Sam, Colby and I stand around her as she catches her breath.

”It could have been slight vertigo, this house is twisty and we just went out on that balcony, and seeing the elevation…” I suggest.

”That’s true,” Celena says. “You also get like this when suspicious things happen at my house.”

”It’s also really hot up here,” Colby says. I don’t say anything. I think Sam says something next. My heart skips. I pretend like I’m not sure why as I shift on my feet as Colby sways close to me subconsciously.

We continue on and go downstairs to talk with the owners of the house and go over precise history about the house. 

Later, Celena and Kris explain what happened to them, and we immediately snap into investigation mode.

For a while, the irrational sensations that trail through my body every time Colby, honestly, simply makes his presence known, fade, and we get a more in depth tour. Many things happen, Kris hears something, there’s something that sounds like thunder; it’s hard to remember everything that happened because that much happened.

Until the owner told us the ghost’s story in the basement, and the lights flicker every time he mentions specific things about the ghost.

I’m not sure why the antics upped in that moment, but in my mind they did. Hearing footsteps and seeing flickering lights was enough for my stomach to recoil. On top of the things I witnessed, Celena explaining the ghosts she noticed in her mind's eye did me no favors. 

My knees tremble by the time we make our way to the top floor.

As we film in the dark, the only light in the room pouring from the camera light, it seems harder to speak. 

At least for me.

Sam and Colby orchestrate the interview with the ghost, and I’m silent for the entire time. Celena and Kris intervene intermittently, but my throat twists within itself with every answer we receive from the so-called ghost.

Colby is also a hair away from grazing my arm every time he speaks and moves naturally. So maybe it was that.

It’s not that anything more than friendly happens between Colby and I; recently his voice has just done something a little more than friendly to me. I’m not sure if that makes it better or not.

Especially if we plan to film during a particular time of month, I mentally prepare myself to be left dizzy and overwhelmed.

And definitely not due to any paranormal activity.

”New piece of equipment, doesn’t have batteries, so I have to go get batteries. I’ll be back in a moment,” Sam explains to the camera as Colby films him. 

“Oh… okay,” Colby chokes out with fear. 

“Oops sorry,” Sam says with a high pitched voice as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. Colby comedically turns the camera to me and zooms out and I stand there perfectly straight and still as the light over exposes my body like a beacon.

Colby bursts out laughing and I whine as I close my eyes from being blinded.

”Sam deserves to get murked by ghosts if he’s leaving us alone in here,” I complain.

”Kris and Celena are alone in the creepy doll closet upstairs, so it could be worse for us,” Colby says and instantly, the erratic beating of my heart returns. I swallow tightly.

His voice sounds different when we’re alone, but no one would ever find me trusting my perception when I’m alone with him. I stay still, listening to anything that might happen in the room as we wait for Sam to return. My heart hammers in my chest, and my eyes don’t leave Colby as he flips the camera to face him and speaks to it.

An aching courses my body as he speaks. 

Maybe he did have a different tone in his voice. We were alone with the camera, so it felt less like putting on a show since there were three less people taking up space in the frame. 

Or maybe my body wants to believe he spoke differently now.

”Literally saw a woman— whoa I’m white,” Colby gasps as he turns the camera and sees himself in the viewfinder. I laugh once, stifling my movement because one, I’m in a house full of ghosts and two, I’m being filmed alone with Colby. 

No, I don’t trust myself right now.

And then I hear it. My body lurches in the direction of the low bang and Colby instantly turns the camera towards the bar meaning he heard it too.

”It sounded like a footstep right there.”

”The ghosts are spying on us,” I say lowly. 

We both keen our attention behind the bar for a few more silent seconds.

”It really sounds like something is right there, and the footsteps trail that way,” Colby explains to the camera as he points down the corridor and across the wall where it dumps into the hallway outside of the room we’re in.

”The ghosts are waiting outside to get Sam when he comes back,” I say. Colby turns to me.

”Why would they wait for him if we’re in here already?” 

“Because you have a camera,” I laugh. “I thought we’ve established multiple times in this video alone that these ghosts especially hate cameras since everything huge we’ve captured has been when the cameras are off.” Colby puts down the camera for a second, and I hear the faint noise of the recording ending.

I’m not sure why my heart jolts.

We’re thoroughly alone now.

”Yeah? You think the ghosts will do something huge now that I turned it off?” I can tell by his light eyes that his words had no underlying meaning, but his voice could never be innocent to me. Especially not when he drops it to that smooth and low tone he always adapts to when we’re alone.

I convince myself it’s his real voice and not fluffed up for the camera.

”It would make sense if they did,” I say, but I don’t need to say anything else because the same rolling thunder sounds we heard in the walls happens right above our heads in the ceiling. It starts over Colby and finishes in a few paces, over me. 

“Celena and Kris are two stories above us, not one,” Colby says distantly as he still looks up to the ceiling. I don’t say anything because my eyes are snagged on the length of his throat as he speaks up towards the aged drywall.

”Told you things happen when the camera is off.” Maybe I should work on the filter on my voice as well, because his eyes snap back down to mine as he hears my words. I swallow again. We already established that it is hot in his house, maybe I just need water.

Colby parts his lips again as his eyes are slightly darker than I’ve seen them all night.

The door opens and we both jump around. Sam walks into the room with the batteries and Colby quickly starts the recording again.

“So we need to stay very still,” Sam explains, and he turns on the white rem pod looking piece of equipment. As they speak, we have to stay as extremely still as possible or else the pod will shrill to life. I almost need to hold my breath when Colby asks questions. His voice is low but smoother than usual; it’s all I can ever describe his voice as. But when he asks questions to the ghosts in the night, I can hear another layer of velvet that…

I need to hold my breath as we stand here perfectly still, to say the least.

My body is on fire already. I don’t want to know what changing my clothes later will entail.

”Do you know if there’s members of the Kriescher family in this house? If so can you go up to this table so this device goes off?” Sam asks. 

It’s silent.

”Okay, so he doesn’t know anything about the murder, but he’s not alone so—“

The rem pod shrills to life and green floods the room.

”Boom, confirmed,” Sam says. I glance at Colby who looks at the rem pod. The green light paints his face as he thinks for a moment.

”Charles or Edward, I don’t know… I still saw a physical person. Let’s go see if Celena and Kris got the same things,” Colby says. And we pick up our things to go back two floors up.

My hands shake as I grab my things and I can’t stop thinking about the heat deep in my body. 

I’m hyper aware. I’m sensitive. Those are two things I’ve never dreamed about calling myself, but the way Colby’s hand drags against mine, or the way we brush past each other have to be charged more than they ever have been.

Charged with something. Maybe it’s all me and my hormonal anticipation and he’s completely oblivious.

He never realized the complexities of his voice.

“Welcome to the seance room,” Sam sighs as he walks into a dark room illuminated by a dozen candles around the room and in a circle around a white poster board and planchette. My stomach twists and it’s then and there that I may need to go to therapy.

We sit in a circle. My knee taps Kris’ knee and Colby’s knee as we sit in a close circle and Sam opens up the seance. 

“Charles or Edward, we invite you to use us to draw any clue as to what happened to you. Edward, give us a hint,” Colby says next to me as all our fingers touch the planchette, and it begins moving.

Maybe we all need therapy because two drawings later, we think the ghost has drawn a gun and a man’s face with blood pouring from it.

“Oh my god, I’m going to be sick,” Celena says, and Kris freaks out. They explain that they pieced together a story in the closet upstairs.

”The husband knew! He knew that the affair with the doctor and his wife was going on, so he put it on a piece of paper that if he was going to die, it was the doctor’s fault.” Celena says.

”That’s confirmed though,” Colby says.

”What is?” Celena gasps and my stomach twists.

”The doctor is the one who confirmed he was dead.”

”I literally saw that the body was alone and the doctor was checking it and he found the paper and disposed of it so no one knew! He killed himself in the woods with the gun in a way to make it look like a murder, and left the note in his pocket to frame the doctor since he had an affair anyway,” Celena explains.

A rush of flickering light coils through the room, and goosebumps that run bone deep cover my skin. Kris draws in a harsh breath as the candles flicker and Sam jolts in shock.

”It matches up perfectly, the way the gun is pointing to the man and the way the blood is falling,” Sam explains as they point to the drawing.

I’m perfectly quiet, overwhelmed by how much Celena and Kris uncovered.

“That is insane,” Colby says as he turns his head, and I feel his breath on my skin making chills race down my spine. Then I hear the thunderous rolling behind us again; the reason his head turned. But I don’t look at it, because at this point, Colby’s voice on my skin makes it recoil more than the sound of the paranormal. When I don't look behind just as the rest of us do, Colby looks down at me and I look back at him.

I need to keep myself in check and hold my breath when he looks at me so intently within the candle light. His eyes look much darker with the orange light despite the fact they are the purest blue I’ve seen.

The others turn, and it takes physical labor for me to look back at the planchette in front of us. 

It takes another beat for Colby to finally pull his eyes from me.

His knee doesn’t leave mine for the rest of the seance.

The next investigation we start is with a deck of cards. 

Sam sits at the head of a table with Kris and Celena on either side of him. Colby and I sit on the other end as Colby films.

“If there is a spirit who wants to talk to us, they can see the cards,” Sam explains as he lays out three lines of six cards in between the girls. “What we’re going to be doing is that you guys will intuitively move your hand over the cards and turn over the one you feel like the ghost wants you to flip. If the card is a heart, the answer is yes. If the card is a spade, it’s a no. If the card is a diamond, it’s maybe, and the club is I don’t know.”

I take a breath because it feels like it’s necessary, and when I see Colby shift, I look at him subtly. He glances at me as well, and something about the glint in his eyes makes me look away and blink quickly.

”Charles and Edward, if you’re talking to us and the one depicting a framed murder, we have some questions we’d like to ask. The first question is, are there spirits that would like to talk to us through this game?” Sam begins the gam.

Celena felt the inclination to turn over a card.

It was a spade.

”Oh…” Colby breathes deeply, and I shift in my seat as if his breath was personally intended for me. 

“It’s highly advised to not continue with the game if they say no…” I roll my eyes with a smirk at Sam’s comment because we all know he won’t stop like the dumbass he is.

The sounds and motions around us intensify until the mirror shakes behind Sam. His eyes go wide and Colby gasps a ‘whoa,’ and I’m more caught off guard by the heat in my clothes.

For the fourth time.

”Did Edward know about an affair between the doctor and Frida?” Sam asks.

Celena draws a spade.

”Oh, who are we talking to that wouldn’t know?” Sam asks softer, more distant as he thinks.

”Rob?” Celena whispers.

”Are we talking to Rob?” Sam asks confidently.

Celena draws a spade.

Colby’s head turns to the side as he shifts in his seat. His eyes are on the cards intently as I see his mind rolling with thoughts about the game. 

I stifle as I feel his arm relax over the armrest of the chair. 

His fingertips graze over my thigh right above my knee.

I become more still than I have all night.

Of course I decided to wear shorts earlier that afternoon.

“Maybe Frida,” Sam says.

”Maybe it is because she didn’t want to talk about it,” Kris suggests.

”Is this a female spirit we’re talking to?” Sam asks louder.

Kris draws a heart.

”Yes,” Sam says with excitement.

”So it could be Frida,” Colby’s voice raises and my thigh subtly jolts up into his fingers as he speaks and moves. He doesn’t recoil his hand.

His fingers move across my skin absentmindedly.

A current of chills make their way through the lines of my skin. I’m even more excited to change my clothes when this night is over.

”Is this Frida Kreischer?” Sam asks.

Celena draws a heart.

”Yes,” Sam exasperates with a sigh.

”Yes, we’re finally talking to her,” Colby sighs excitedly, and my stomach tightens at his breathy tone. I flinch and look at him for half a second because where did that lighter and breathy tone come from? My heart pounds now.

First my skin, then my stomach, and now my heart; Colby is ruining them all tonight.

I really need to get a psychiatric evaluation if he’s affecting me like this more so than literal ghosts in an old mansion.

”She married that doctor six months later…” Colby whispers animatedly, reminding us that she really doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Did Edward Kreischer die by the hand of a family member?” Sam asks.

Kris draws a diamond.

”Oh… maybe, she doesn’t want to say,” Colby says as his head turns thoughtfully. I bite my tongue when his fingers swirl higher up my leg.

”I’m just going to go for it…” Sam sighs quietly. “Edward Kreischer, did you try to frame the doctor for murder?” Sam asks.

Kris draws a spade.

”So then the mystery still stands?” Sam asks lowly.

”Freida Kreischer, you’re not the only spirit talking to us, are you?”

Celena draws a spade.

Colby’s fingers push into the thick of my thigh.

My toes curl.

”Is it true that Freida and the doctor were having an affair?” Sam pushes.

Kris draws a diamond.

”She really really doesn’t want anyone to know,” Celena exasperates under her breath.

”Was Edward Kreischer murdered?” Sam says.

And Celena draws a diamond.

”Oh my—“ Colby laughs breathily, and my own breath hitches as his fingers move again as he readjusts how he sits. They fall in between my legs now under the darkness of the table. “We’re also the first people to document this, so maybe they’re telling us to keep our mouths shut,” he suggests. His voice is normal and low as if nothing is going on.

“Yeah,” Kris agrees, and Sam closes the game.

I suck in an uneven breath as Colby’s fingers tightly graze my core over my hot shorts when he draws his hand away to stand and clean up.

As we move on to our final investigation, we get our things together in the dining room. I shove the extra lights in the backpack and the smaller tripod as well. I turn to grab the other tripod and Colby is there, putting something in his backpack as he looks up at me.

I could have fallen to the floor from the dark look in his eyes.

”Is it still warm to you?” He asks. I know it’s supposed to be polite words in his mouth, but that tone annihilates any kindness whatsoever.

”I’m not sure,” I say back quietly, lowly. Colby stifles, his head turns to the side slightly. His eyes drape over my body.

”Hm…” I swallow tightly as I tear my eyes away from him and I look to the floor and turn to follow our loud friends. He holds my arm and my body is on fire. “And I’m not sure why you’re avoiding the question?”

”I’m not sure why it’s a deal for you,” I say smoothly, looking back at him with dark eyes. He visibly swallows. His eyes still tear me apart, slicing to the bone.

”It would be a deal to you if you had just felt how turned on I was in the middle of a seance of all things.” My vision blows for a moment, and a scoff huffs out of my dry lips.

”What- What are you even saying?” I choke out as I try to pass him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Celena following the other two out the door.

”Maybe I’m saying I just felt how hot you were under those shorts and I’m trying to figure out why.” My hands are trembling more than they have all night. Chills fall across my body, amplifying this heat in my shorts all over again as I feel his breath on me. 

“Colby-“

“If it’s not because of me, you’d be out the door already. You wouldn’t have let me touch you the way I did during the card investigation.” But my heart already throbs desperately as he speaks to me like this. My chin quivers as I try to form words, but he seems to have taken all of them. “What? Have nothing to say for yourself?” My eyes gleam up at him thickly.

”Stop talking,” I choke out and he pauses.

”I’m sorry, I’m not trying—“

”No,” I whisper quickly. “It’s not that.” Colby’s eyes narrow as he tries to figure me out.

”Not like what?” I sigh impatiently and look back up at him.

”We should go—“

”No,” Colby demands. “You-You like when I talk to you like that, don’t you?”

”Colby,” I sigh breathlessly, and my heart stops as he says it. His eyes glaze over.

”Go. Follow them,” he commands me, and I quickly obey. My body trembles as I hurry out of the door and meet the other three towards the cellar where we plan to perform the last investigation. 

The three didn’t question why we dragged a pace behind them.

We split. 

Celena and Kris do the Estes method in a corner of the cellar.

Sam records himself with the rem pod sitting alone in the room right above Celena and Kris to find the consistencies between their experiences. 

And Colby and I do the Estes method between the entrance of the cellar and the first floor of the mansion since the furnace is right next to it, and supposedly the ghost Colby is trying to talk to died in the furnace.

My hands shake as he gives me the blindfold and he notices. I hold my breath as I glance at him one last time before I pull it over my eyes. I hear an uneven breath between Colby’s lips. Then he puts the headphones on me.

His fingertips gently graze my face as he pulls his hands back. My lips part. 

The radio starts.

I don’t hear Colby at all, but the words pour out of the radio. I know this supposed ghost talked a lot, so I should have expected it. It distracts my burning for a while, and I’m nearly over it until I feel the tap on my shoulder. I hesitate and draw in a breath when I feel his fingers graze up to my face again. 

I timidly raise the blindfold off me.

Colby stands in front of me.

I look up at him.

”Did-Did any of that make sense?” I ask timidly.

”Yeah,” he says as if it’s an afterthought. My heart pounds as I feel his fingers on my chin still, and I look over seeing the camera turned off. I look straight back up at him from where I sit.

”You’re very good at this,” he says, and a tsunami of fire extinguishes the remaining sense in my body. On my body. His low voice twists my stomach and I shift in my seat. I gasp as I feel him yank my gaze back up towards him since he never took his fingers off my chin. “You look very obedient… sitting there and saying what the box is telling you to.” His voice is so smooth like velvet my chest heaves.

”Colby,” I sigh his name as I shift in my seat. He crouches down in front of me.

”What? Is it suddenly hot in here again?”

”Don’t-Don’t speak to me like that.” His eyes glint and he smiles evilly.

”So it is my voice then? Is that why you’re blushing and dazed?”

”Colby,” I choke out again, slightly louder. He leans forward to ground me again. To keep me from squirming and retreating out of the chair.

”I never took you as such a dirty girl, getting so turned on just from someone’s voice in the middle of a haunted mansion. What’s wrong with you?” He antagonizes me. His voice is breathy but dark and I’m drowning in it. 

My chest heaves and I can’t even speak.

”Have you even paid attention this entire time? Do you even know what state you’re in? Or are you too busy being a slut and imagining a bunch of nasty things because my voice turns you on?”

”Fuck- Colby—“ I gasp as he cuts me off with his hand on my thigh. My lips part and Colby leans forward. Only centimeters are between our parted lips. His eyes glint down my face and he smiles slightly as he sees the dazed look in my eyes and the desperation on the tip of my tongue.

”Tell me what you’ve been thinking about?” I figure out the game he’s playing. His fingers lightly swirl around the end of my thigh, momentarily dipping in between my thighs before going back to the top.

”No,” I whisper breathlessly.

”No?” He asks, turning his head. The lightness of his voice makes my thighs push together. He looks down to them briefly before smiling. “You want to just listen to me talk to you then?”

”Colby…” I think my breath doused with a whiny tone sounds like a beg to him.

To which I’m grateful for because I don’t think I can form another syllable.

”Fine,” he says, pausing and swallowing tightly. “If you can’t tell me what dirty thoughts you’ve been having about me, I’ll figure it out myself.” I swallow hard when he pauses.

”I didn’t even know if I could have made it to this mansion the first time I saw you in the hotel. For as fantastic as you look in those shorts, I wanted to rip them off you.” I whine timidly as his fingers swirl over my thigh and raise higher up my hot skin. “I imagined taking a break and letting you ride me in the car before going back to this job because I couldn’t focus. Do you even understand how hard it is to focus when you’re around?” I cry out when he squeezes my thigh harshly. His lips get nearer to mine. “Do you know how much of a fucking whore you have to be for me to be so distracted and turned on in the middle of a haunted and insanely active mansion?”

And then I moan when his fingers press into a sensitive part of my thighs. He stifles and adjusts the way he’s crouched in front of me. His hand sits on the arm of the chair in front of me and he leans closer.

”Tell me what you’ve thought about tonight,” he says darkly. 

There was no room for defying him.

”Your voice,” I choke out again.

”What about it?”

”It’s so- It- It turns me on, I’m so wet when you talk to me like that.”

”Yeah?” He says sweetly even though his voice is still dark with a heaviness I had never heard before. 

There was no getting out of this situation alive, I thought.

”I can’t believe how wet you think you are when I wasn’t even trying to turn you on. You want me to talk to you like I’m trying now?”

”Colby,” I whine. I can’t handle it.

”I’ve thought about putting my fingers inside you since you let me touch your thighs like a slut in the other room. I’ve wanted to tear your clothes off and feel how wet you are for myself. And to think it’s all because of my voice…” He scoffs. “You’re such a fucking slut and I think you deserve a lot more than just my fingers.”

“Colby please,” I whine as my hips squirm. I gasp when his hand on the arm of the chair falls to my hip tightly.

”Don’t writhe like a slut, I haven’t given you anything yet,” he fires at me under his breath. “You want me to make you come?”

”Y-Yes, Colby please—“

”If you’re good for me, I’ll make you come all night when you come back to my hotel room.” I grit my teeth as I realize he will make me wait for a few more hours. “Be a good girl and be patient.”

”Colby,” I sigh breathlessly. He looks down in between my thighs again where his hand trails across my skin. I gasp when his fingers trail lighter. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re so hot, it’s making it difficult for me to even be patient.”

”Please,” I choke out.

I gasp when he actually touches me over my jean shorts. My back slightly arches.

”Fuck… I can feel how hot you are through your clothes,” he whispers. I roll my hips forward into his fingers. His breath is shaking as he leans over me, and his free hand goes back to the arm of the chair as he raises up to his feet. “You sound so pretty when you’re frustrated.” I whine when he slides his fingers up and down my core. He knows it’s not enough to pleasure me enough to make me come, but enough for me to squirm and gasp for more.

”If you want, you can grind on my hand and take it for yourself, but I’m not giving you anything until later. You think you can get away with thinking like a slut this entire night? In public too?” I bite back a moan at the tone of his hostile voice. I grind my hips forward into his hand and he drags in a breath. “God, you really are such a pathetic slut for me aren’t you? You can’t even be patient and wait for tonight, you’re just grinding on my hand because you’re so desperate for it you can’t control yourself.”

”Colby,” I sigh his name as my head tosses back. Pleasure wells through me at the sound of those words coming off his voice thickened with arousal. And I thought he could never sound better.

”Yeah,” he teases with a sigh. “Moan my name like the slut you are. I can’t believe it’s so easy to get you out of your mind like this.” My thighs tighten around his hand when I hear him sigh. It was almost a moan. My nails dig into the edge of the chair as my back arches and my hips grind on his hand faster. The pleasure builds and is so unbearable; the dry friction of my jeans jamming into me over my soaked underwear is mind numbing. 

With Colby’s voice in the mix of it, I’m a mess.

”God, you’re ruining me. Can’t wait to tear you apart in my bed. Look at me. Look at me now,” Colby demands, and my glossy eyes stare back at him in a haze. “You’ll look at me when I tell you what I’m going to do to you when we get back to the hotel.” I whine in response as I obey him. “I’m going to taste you and make you come on my face before I fuck you hard from behind. I’m going to stuff your face in the pillows too because I bet you’re so unbearably loud and we don’t want to disturb the entire hotel. You can barely hold in your little gasps now, what makes me think you can handle it when I touch you for myself?”

Tears are in my eyes by the time they snap shut. I bite my lip harshly as my pleasure coils to a point and I come on his hand. He sucks in a breath as my hips tremble and my thighs snap together and pull his hand further in.

”Fuck—“ He chokes out under his breath. He keeps his hand there so I can grind on it, coming down from my high.

My eyes open blearily, but I’m completely unsatisfied. I didn’t come very hard and my arousal ached for more. 

I was more concerned about the fact that the denim was a deeper color now. Colby recoils his hand with a teasing smirk. Then he stands up. 

My heart skips harshly in my chest when I realize how hard he is, and he turns away from me taking a breath himself. My body still trembles as I’m frozen to the chair. My breath heaves as I watch him intently. He turns back around with closed eyes. He pulls his jacket back on, hoping it would cover his arousal.

”Get up,” he demands. I ignore the jello that replaced my knees and I get up and follow him out of the entrance to the cellar.

My night is a blur.

We finish the video with Sam’s organization alone; he does the outro with Kris and Celena as Colby and I clean up and get the things into the car. My arms shake when I’m with him and I don’t dare say a word. I can’t even look him in the eyes.

His eyes are all over my body though. Analyzing. Planning.

My body tenses and nearly keels over when he’s near me. 

There’s an edge to his voice now. Everytime he speaks, my legs get weaker.

In the car when we grab food before going to the hotel, Colby tells Sam to trade rooms with me. I planned to sleep on the couch in Kris and Celena’s room as they took the bed. The girls were quiet if they thought anything of it. I think Kris shot me a look but I couldn’t handle it and didn’t make eye contact with anyone for the rest of the drive. 

I can’t hear anything except Colby’s voice and my erratic breathing by the time we close the hotel door behind us. I turn to him like a deer in the headlights and he drops his bags aimlessly; his eyes firm on me as he walks up to me.

A noise shoves out of me when he grabs my face with both hands and I bend backwards as he leans over and kisses me hard. 

It’s not like fire anymore, no. Explosions happen behind my weary eyes, and I realize he wasn’t joking about earlier. It’s not that I assumed he was joking, it’s that I’ve never felt this side of him.

I’ve never dealt with the pure desperation and intensity that seemed to loom in his veins. 

I moan into his mouth and kiss him back even harder than he first kissed me. He steps back as he moans, and he licks into my mouth. I cry and moan and whine against his mouth when our tongues slide together, and maybe he was right that I’m acting like a slut. I didn’t mean it. 

The world stops spinning when he pushes me back on the bed; my feet still on the floor.

”Such a fucking slut, I can’t believe how much you’ve turned me on,” he breaths shakily over me. My own heart follows my erratic breathing as he harshly peels my jacket away and leaves me in the cropped shirt and short jeans shorts I wore. He kisses, moreso bites, down my stomach and the hem of the denim before he falls to his knees in between my legs. 

“Colby—“

”Lie down,” he spits as I go to sit up. His fingers drive into the thick of my hips. I whine and obey. Like always.

He undoes my shorts before he pulls them down and off my legs. Then he draws a sharp breath between his teeth.

”Fucking hell, look at you. Your pussy is so drenched for me even still,” he mutters, not even peeling my underwear off my slackened puffy arousal. My hips writhe as I feel his breath on my core. His nails drive into my sides. “Be a good girl for me or I won’t let you cum.”

”Okay,” I say highly, and I hold back my whining and writhing of my hips. 

“Fuck,” he sighs as he pulls my underwear down and tosses them to the floor. Then, I hold my breath as he blows lightly on my arousal. The cool air sends moans through me and it takes every cell in my body to not squirm. “The fact that it’s my voice that gets you this wet is what’s blowing my mind.” 

I cry out when his tongue licks me once, twice. 

And my hands are in his hair.

Thank god he doesn’t care because he parts my thighs more and lets them rest on his shoulder as he moans into me and sucks me hard. My hips thrust against his face as he eats me out and he doesn’t stop me at all. It makes his tongue work harder and his mouth close around my hot arousal tightly until I see stars.

”Fuck, Colby oh my god—“ I choke out as my hips squirm under him and he groans harshly, pinning my hips down. 

I can’t even open my eyes as the moans and gasps pour from me; he eats me our just as he promised and it takes all but a couple seconds before the pleasure starts coiling. He pulls away for a moment and looks up at me with a look darkened with lust. It sends me spiraling.

”Fucking hell, you taste so good.” I whine when his fingers tease my entrance. “I could drown in your pussy forever. You would love that wouldn’t you? You’re such a desperate little thing anyway, I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” I can’t answer him because next thing I know he’s eating me out again two fingers deep. 

“Fuck Colby—Yes thank you, thank you,” I moan as he fingers me harder. His free hand comes up to the side of my thigh over his shoulder and squeezes tightly.

I still feel his breath and moans on me and that’s what makes my head spin. 

His fingers curl against that perfect place inside me and his mouth is unlike anything I’ve felt before. It takes two minutes and I’m coming on his face just like he promised.

When I’m still trembling and moaning, he stands. He pulls his jacket off and then his shirt and the room goes black. 

It’s only him in front of me and it’s like every one else had died.

”You realize you’re mine now, yeah?” He asks breathlessly. I nod incredulously, my fingers tightening around the bedding under me.

”Yeah, good.”

Satisfied with that answer, he undoes his jeans but doesn’t deal with taking them them off. 

“God, I know I said I’ll take you from behind, but wait a second,” he sighs and I gasp when his tip glides through my arousal. “Yeah, holy shit I need to fucking watch you take it when I fuck you hard. You think you can still handle it baby?” He teases and I glare up at him even though there’s no chance in hell I want him to actually stop speaking.

”Give it to me,” is all I can get out and so he does.

It’s like I meet god before I take my next breath. 

He fills me up so perfectly I can’t contain myself or fit myself in the obedient box he forced me in earlier. I moan loudly and arch my back. My fingers try to pull him closer and instead, he grabs my hand and holds tight, moaning as he fucks me off the edge of the bed hard. 

“Oh my god, you feel so good—“ he gasps as his eyes roll back. I watch intently as his hair falls in front of his face as he thrusts harder. The angle has me speechless and I can only take what he wants to give me. He finally yanks my legs up, feet from the floor, and pushes my thighs back and my back arches as a loud gasp is fucked right out of me.

”Colby, oh my god—“ I whisper, afraid of what sound would come out of me if my voice was any louder. 

“Holy shit, you talk about my voice all the time but yours is going to make me come so fast.” I moan louder as I hear him speak to me like that and I relax.

I take everything he gives me as his eyes rake over me; taking in my appearance as he knows he sends me to heaven and back.

”Get on your hands and knees,” he finally spits out. I scramble to the head of the bed and I lower to my shoulder, staring back at him over my raised hips. “Goddamn, you’re really a little slut for me aren’t you?” He says with a voice so low I nearly fall over again.

He’s on his knees behind me and he fills me without warning. I gasp and moan loudly. I’m dizzy again when he fucks me, but this time the loud moans are uncontrollable. 

“Holy shit,” he moans and he grabs a fist full of my hair at the roots and yanks me back to him. “You’re so easy, I knew you’d be fucking loud, stupid slut. Now, what you’re going to do is take it like a good girl and let me fuck you and come on my cock listening to my voice, you think you can do that for me?” His voice is so calm and smooth it nearly puts me to sleep.

”Yes, I’ll be so good for you.” He moans and kisses my neck sweetly. Few times in return, his pace slow and pleasuring behind me as he thrusts in and out.

”Good,” he simply says before he shoves my face back into the pillow. At the same time, he fucks into me so hard I moan before I even feel it completely. My body is on fire as he fucks me hard, and this time his own moans fill the room. “Oh my fucking god, your pussy was made for me, baby. You feel so damn good I don’t think I can go without it again.”

I think I moan his name.

”Think about you all the damn time. Especially when I’m alone. Always think about what it would be like to make you fall apart. I didn’t think it would be this easy and entertaining. I’m fucking addicted to you, baby,” he moans as he keeps thrusting hard. I can’t feel anything except the ecstasy he demands me to take. Fire coils in my core and trails down my thighs as they shake with pleasure. It builds and builds but doesn’t end.

”Please,” I moan into the pillow, wanting more than anything to come hard around him. I jut my hand down in between my legs but he sucks in a harsh breath and takes a break from pinning my head into the pillows. He grabs both my wrists and holds them down, pinned to my back with one of his hands. Then with his free hand, he shoves me back into the pillows.

”No way, I said you’re coming on my cock and listening to my voice. You acted like such a whore today, what am I to think other than the fact that you can come listening to it alone?”

I whine as tears fill my eyes.

”Now fucking feel it. Don’t you feel how good it is? You’ve never had anyone fuck you like this before, have you? You were so desperate for it, you knew I’d be able to because you’re so obsessed with my voice. You close baby? Close to showing me how much you need me?”

I whine and moan louder, my hips squirm as I try to tell him that I’m close.

”Holy shit, the way your pussy grabs me— I can feel how close you are, you just got so much tighter. You better fucking come when I tell you to because I won’t last much longer.” 

“So close—“ I moan into the pillow in rhythm with his harsh thrusts deep in me. I tighten around him purposefully and he moans louder. His moans make me shake. I can’t even see; they’re blinding.

”My god… you’re so hot I’m so close actually…” He moans quieter, and the pleasure builds and I can barely hold it anymore.

”Please let me come,” I beg him as I turn out of the pillow to catch my breath.

”You want to come on my cock for me? Just from my voice, yeah?” He asks breathlessly and sweetly. Too sweetly for him to be fucking me like a slut right now.

”Yeah, please,” I ask nicely as my moans fade into desperate whines.

”Fuck— Squeeze me tight then, baby. Show how much you want to come. If you come for me I’ll fill you, okay? I’ll give you all my come.”

”Oh fuck,” I gasp and my thighs are shaking.

”Come for me now, baby. Come now,” he desperately moans, unable to wait any longer.

And thank god the sound of his real moans, louder and deep, push me over the edge.

I come so hard around him, I push my face into the pillows myself to block my moans from waking up unsuspecting people in the hotel. I tighten around him and he gasps as he lets go of my hands. He holds himself up as his orgasm wracks through his body, and I try to keep quiet and let him use me even though I’m coming so hard I can’t even breath.

”Holy shit, holy shit—“ He gasps breathlessly as he stills his hips and gently holds mine. His thumb brushes over my skin lightly as he coaxes me from my violent high. I turn my head to the side, facing him. “Are you alright?” He asks, panting and quiet.

”Yeah,” my voice breaks. He leans over and kisses me face.

”If I knew you felt this way about my voice I would have said something a long time ago.”

”The problem is you did and I’ve been going crazy for you since then. You’re just too stupid to have seen it.” Colby’s breath hitches as I say that and he laughs before he thrusts inside me deep again. I gasp loudly and arch my back.

”Maybe don’t talk to me like that when I’m this deep inside you.”

”You’re an idiot.”

✧˖*°࿐

Sam and Colby Taglist (Comment to be added):

@a-random-google-user

@graceciesiels22

@honestlybabymiracle

@xxsecretscenekidxx

@thedeadlynights

@glittervame

@rockwyu

@worldlxvlys

@benbarnesprettygurl

[aimedis]

redacted asmr hcs pt.8 - shaw pack edition

-milo and asher have had a super complicated handshake since high school (tried to teach it to david but he was not having it)

-milo and sweetheart are the type to bully kids on roblox 

-sam and darlin’ will start giggling to each other about literally nothing (milo and sweetheart as well) 

-sweetheart and milo insult and fight with each other all day (the first time the pack heard sweetheart call him a bitch and milo just laughed, they all freaked out because milo never takes insults from people) ((milo and sweetheart swing at each other even while sweetheart’s cloaked and they giggle the whole time)) (((milo: “don’t even try it, you brat. i’ll beat your ass”)))

-angel is one of the smartest in the pack (sometimes smarter than david in certain areas) ((during pack trivia they beat him for first place and he glared at them for all of ten seconds))

-angel gets progressively more irritable the more hungry or tired they are (like a toddler) and david points it out because he thinks it’s cute (angel: “can you like shut up? you’re starting to piss me off” david, smirking in amusement: “I think you’re just hungry” angel: “say that to me again and you lose your head”) 

-angel has anger issues (more like easily irritated) it just takes a lot for them to show it

-sometimes for date night, asher and baabe just put on comfy socks and clothes and make pillow forts to sit in while they watch crappy tv shows to giggle at

-milo and sweetheart are horribly possessive when it comes to anyone outside of the pack and sometimes even within the pack (not in a toxic way) ((milo: “touch them again and i’ll rip your hand off” / sweetheart: “unless you want your entire upper body to go invisible for the rest of the night, get your hands off of my mate”))

-asher spends the entire summer solstice pouting and whining into baabe’s chest while they rub his back and occasionally give him little massages where it hurts

-david covers angel’s face for them when they yawn in public (he also does it when they make questionable faces or if they start crying around other people, he’ll cover their face for them) ((he does it so often that angel doesn’t think to do those things on their own anymore when david’s not around)) 

-sam and darlin’ play the “that’s a body”/“that’s cheating” game with things they’ve very well done

-in shifter culture, wolves pressing their foreheads together is a very intimate but casual show of affection and it really means a lot when shifters do it to a non-shifter (most shaw wolves have done it to the non-shifter mates at this point) 

-darlin’ loves sam’s hands on their face (they close their eyes and lean heavily against him) 

-asher and baabe are literally johnny and mavis 

-darlin’ has learned to lean on sam (metaphorically and literally) they take the hand he offers when they need it to keep balance when with anyone else they would’ve denied it ((the wolf bois were understandably shocked))

-david hates straight black coffee but he insists on having it all the time. angel on the other hand proudly drinks their sugary milky coffee and david steals sips from it all the time (claims it tastes better coming from them so they don’t bother getting him their regular) 

-darlin’ cracks all the crackable bones in their body (back, fingers, neck, ankles etc.) and it drives sam insane because he can hear it so clearly

-when milo was younger, marie would run her finger between milo’s eyebrows and down his nose to remind him to relax whenever he made a face so he didn’t get a line on his forehead (she still does it and she does it to sweetheart as well) 

-david can tell when angel is in a bad mood within seconds, he can just feel it without even seeing them (he'll randomly text them "are you okay?" and they're like "how did you-")

-milo gets really cold on the summer solstice and sweetheart gets really hot (milo clings onto sweetheart the whole day and sweetheart let’s him no matter how sweaty and agitated they are) ((fanfic idea??))

-darlin’ gets mad when they’re bored 

-darlin’ is really really good at pretending things don’t hurt (physically or emotionally) 

-whenever david gets really angry at darlin', he starts acting like them (they are so siblings)

-david thrives off of knowing how flustered he makes angel with no effort (he looks into their eyes for a second too long and their face flushes/they smile nervously and turn away)

-angel being an angry jealous and asher being a pouty jealous (rarely) 

-despite being a wolf, asher sneezes like a kitten. david's sneezes are a nuclear bomb

-david and asher being childhood best friends, have had their fair share of arguments but one of the big ones was surprisingly, not during the period of gabe's death but almost immediately after they both got off their honeymoons. they had a pretty bad argument that milo and darlin' somehow got roped into (they weren't ganging up on one or two people really, it was a free for all) -the argument was bad but because they're all as close as they are, it wasn't tense afterwards

-david and milo bicker quite often, as do sam and sweetheart

[lives-in-midgard]

They All Love You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky and the Avengers ask reader to move in with them.

Word Count: 1640

Request: Hi!! Can I please request a Bucky x civilian!fem!reader one shot (Everyone lives au!) where Y/n is moving into the Avengers HQ to lives with her bf Bucky?.... [Full request here]

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this request I hope you and everyone else like how this turned out!

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

It’s been almost a year since you and Bucky started dating. You met each other when Bucky was looking for something specific in a store and luckily you were there to help him. Bucky came back often and one day he asked for your phone number. Bucky didn’t care that you have a civilian job. He actually really likes that you have a normal job, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s very protective of you.

After dating for a few months, you finally met the Avengers. You were nervous at first, but everyone was very nice and friendly to you. You were there several times and were able to get very close to them, especially Steve and Sam.

You cuddled and talked with Bucky in bed. He gently rubbed your back as you told him about your current life situation. Living with your roommate wasn’t going well at the moment. That was also one of the reasons why you had been more on the compound than at your home lately. Of course, Bucky and the others were happy to have you there. Bucky listened intently to everything you said and gave you a kiss on the forehead when you said how sad you were about it.

“Why don’t you move in here?” Bucky asked suddenly and you looked up at him. Into his beautiful eyes and a smile forming on his lips.

“I don’t know Bucky. Do you think the others would be okay with it?” You asked shyly and Bucky pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Of course they would be okay with it. Doll, you know they all love you. Not as much as I do, but they really love you.” You chuckled at the last part and then cupped his cheeks but before kissing him you said.

“I love you so much.” After breaking the kiss, you smiled at each other.

“But I have to think about it…. moving in is a big change. For everyone here.”

“It’s okay doll, you don’t have to decide now.” Bucky smiled and you laid your head back on his chest and he put his arm around you.

A few hours later it was time for dinner and you both went downstairs to join the others. You had a delicious meal and then went into the living room.

You sat next to Bucky and held his hand while you talked with the others, laughing, and had a great time together until Steve asked you about the situation between you and your roommate. You told him a while ago and the others also know how frustrated you are because of your roommate.

“No, nothing has changed.” Steve gave you a sad look, then looked at Sam and then at Bucky next to you. Bucky nodded at him and Steve smiled at you.

“There is something we wanted to ask you for a while now.” Steve began to say.

“We?” You asked and looked around. The other Avengers nodded and smiled at you.

“We’re all happy to have you here on the compound, and we know how you feel about your roommate.” Steve paused and you could imagine what he was going to say next.

“So we all had the idea that you could move in here.” Sam finished what Steve started to say. You didn’t know what to say, so you were quiet for a moment. Of course it would be great to move in with Bucky and the others. When Bucky noticed that you were getting nervous, he squeezed your hand and gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, I would definitely like to move in here but-” You wanted to say more but were interrupted by Tony.

“Then we have the answer. You’re moving in here.” Tony announced with a smile. You giggled and looked over at Bucky. You smiled at Steve and Sam and then turned to Tony and the others.

“But I’m definitely going to need help getting my stuff here.”

“We will help you, right Sam?” Steve said.

“Of course we will.” Sam answered and you chuckled.

And that was right, they really helped you. You and Bucky, Steve and Sam drove to your apartment the next day and they helped you packing and brining everything to the compound. Luckily, your roommate wasn’t there because you weren’t sure what Bucky, Steve and Sam would do or say if they met her.

“Doll, I’m so glad you moved in here.” Bucky whispered as you cuddled in bed at night.

“Me too.”

Time has passed and you really loved that you decided to move in with them. You have a lot of fun and enjoy spending more time with them. You always take a morning run with Steve and Sam, sometimes Bucky joins as well. Sometimes you go to gym in the compound and train with Bucky and Steve. You also spend a lot of time with Wanda and Natasha. And of course Thor and Loki are also happy to see you when they come to visit.

You love waking up and falling asleep in your boyfriend’s loving embrace every day.

There is always someone there to spend time with. But they are all also very protective over you. If you have to leave for work early, Bucky will drive you. When Bucky was on a mission, they were all there for you. There were all so protective that they always noticed when something was wrong.

This day was one of those days. You came home from a hard day at work. You got home in time for dinner. When you parked your car outside, you saw Bucky waiting for you. Before got out of your car, you took a deep breath because you were still a little stressed and nervous. By the time you got out of the car and walked over to Bucky, he already tell that something was wrong.

“Everything okay, doll?” Bucky asked, but you didn’t want to tell him.

“Sure.” Bucky didn’t believe you, but he didn’t want to push you either. Bucky grabbed your hand, and you went upstairs to have dinner with the others. During dinner you were very quiet and didn’t talk much. You noticed Steve’s worried look. Sam smiled at you and tried to start a conversation, but it didn’t really work. After dinner, you and Bucky went to his room.

“Buck, is it okay if I go downstairs training for a bit?” You asked after a while.

“Sure, doll. Should I come with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I want to go alone.” When you said that Bucky had a worried look on his face.

“Are you sure everything’s, okay?” Bucky asked again and you nodded. Then you put on your gym clothes and went downstairs. You thought you would be alone, but when you entered the gym, you saw Steve and Sam working out.

“Hey y/n” Sam greeted you and so did Steve.

“I thought I was the only one downstairs right now.” You mumbled and Steve and Sam looked at each other.

“You won’t even notice us.” Sam said and you let out a small laugh. You walked over to a table and picked up one of the boxing bandages. You were about to put it on your hand when Steve walked over to you.

“Let me help you, sweetheart.” Steve put it gently on your hands while you stayed still.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“You’re welcome. If you need anything, we’re here.” You nodded and then walked to the boxing area. You started boxing and after a while you were so busy letting out your anger that you didn’t even notice the worried looks from Steve and Sam. What you also didn’t notice was that they left after a while. They went to Bucky and told him that something must be wrong, and he decided to go to you.

You didn’t realize that Bucky was there until he stood next to you and gently touched your shoulder. You flinched and looked at Bucky.

“Sorry for scaring you, doll.” Bucky looked very worried.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“What’s wrong doll, and please don’t say nothing.” He said softly. You looked away for a second and then back at Bucky.

“I just had a really bad day at work and a lot happened.”

“Oh, doll, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m not sure.” You answered and were quiet for a moment until you asked.

"What would you have done if I had told you about my bad day sooner?"

"What I would have done?" He asked and you nodded.

"I would have hugged you straight away, rubbed your back and kissed you on the forehead. Then we would cuddle in bed all night long until you feel better." Bucky finished with a smile.

"Can we still do that now?" You asked shyly and Bucky smiled at you.

"Of course we can." Bucky said and smiled at you.

"How about we start with a hug, doll?" He said and you nodded, then he wrapped his arms around you. You laid your head on his chest. He rubbed your back and kissed your forehead like he promised. After a few minutes you pulled away and he gave you a soft kiss on the cheek.

"And now let's go upstairs to cuddle. But let me help you take those of before.” He said when he looked at your hand. Bucky gently removed your boxing bandages and then kissed the back of your hand.

"Now let's go cuddle." Bucky said, taking your hand in his. You went into his room and did exactly what he said earlier. Well, you were really glad that Steve and Sam were so protective, otherwise Bucky probably wouldn’t have come to you.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @buckys-wintersoldier | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @beaubbdoll | @buckskemp | @ratchildspartan | @scott-loki-barnes |  @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 | @mrsbuckybarnes1917

[h0nkch0c0late]

Heya,how are you?I love the way you write,if you are taking request for Sam Riordan,can you write something like reader has a power that can calm him down?Like he told Cate to not touch him to make him go to sleep,but with reader is different because he obviously likes her and she is the only one he really trust?Sorry if this doesn’t make any sense🥲

Abso-fucking-lutely anon! It makes perfect sense! <33333

Soother

Sam Riordan x Reader

SUMMARY: you have the power of serenity inducement. Most often you don't use it, but when it comes to Sam, it helps more than you think

Warnings: Sam's hallucinations, swearing, Gen V spoilers, doesn't follow everything from the fourth episode.

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

You had arrived at the house just in time.

Cate was trying to calm him down, but it wasn't working.

"No!" He yelled after she asked to let the group help him, "you are NOT touching me again, Cate! Get the FUCK out of here!" He laughed, "you're all fuckingg puppets!"

Seeing Marie grab her knife to pull use her powers, you grabbed her hand, "I've got this." You whispered, moving in front of her.

His eyes widened at the sight of you, "No! I won't let him hurt you!" He yelled.

Your eyes held him in a gentle stare as you slowly walked towards him, "Sam, no one's gonna hurt me, okay? We just need you to calm down, please." Your tone was soft as you got closer.

He had always held a deep trust with you. While Cate had made him fall asleep, your touch had always ended up relaxing him, making the puppets go away, giving him peace.

He knew that out of all of them, you were least likely to have ill intentions. Well, minus Emma.

His breathing was ragged as you stopped directly in front of him, your hands reaching for his.

"Everything is okay, Sam. We're all just here to help you, okay? They don't want to hurt you." You soothed, feeling him practically melt into your touch.

Everyone tensed as he let go of your hands slowly, each getting ready to use their powers on him if he hurt you.

But he would never do that. You were the one person he could never hurt.

You didn't even move when he reached towards you, pulling you in for a tight hug to which you accepted, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"I thought you left me." He whimpered softly into your ear.

You smiled lightly, "I could never leave you, Sam. Who else could make you feel less crazy than me?"

"Uh...Emma?" He questioned jokingly.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully as you hugged him tighter, "say that again and I might kill you."

"Not if I kill you first." He remarked.

"You could never." You replied snarkily.

"Yeah, and neither could you."

"Dang, you got me there."

The others continued to stare at the two of you, confused at how quickly the situation had de-escalated.

And at some point of that whole ordeal, Doctor Cardosa had slipped away to join his husband and daughter.

"So...do you wanna explain why you were just about to murder Cardosa?" Andre asked, almost as if he was TRYING to get rid of the moment of peace.

Your head turned to the boy, "Andre I swear to god-"

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Apologies that this is so short. My writing juice for the weekend feels like its about to run out so I wanted to get something out before it happens completely! I'll most likely be back in full swing on Monday so please don't stop requesting!

Also, I hope this was to your liking <333

[heavilysaltedbagel]

What a way to show off everyone's strengths as comedians and writers, too. Brennan, Katie, and Raph have distinct voices in their work that are largely informed and made unique by their own personalities. This makes them ideal first tier Bingo subjects/victims, due to their voices being distinct and distinctly different from one another.

(I wrote a way more thorough analysis of the structure and cast choices made for this episode. Whoops. More under the cut.)

At the Second level, we have Rekha, Trapp, and Lily. Unlike the first three, these three are all excellent at stepping back and prompting others. Brennan points out the Trapp is an excellent straight man. On Dirty Laundry, Lily consistently will listen and wait to send out little jabs that cut through the bits to keep things fresh. Rekha is a quick thinker and will oftentimes make a joke about how proud she is of a dumb joke, thereby simultaneously making a joke and joking about the joke. It's great.

Tier one Bingo players all have a tendency to commit and commit hard to what they do and say, to their own characters and schemes, whereas tier 2 takes one step back and will often times react to either their own jokes or take a broader look at what others have said. They are, to me, the clearest candidates for the jester in the king's court. Additionally, they all clearly have a fiendish streak that made them (a) perfect candidates to torture the first three and (b) ideal Bingo subjects/victims for the third tier of Bingo players.

At the Third tier, Jess, Tao, and Carolyn do not typically take on front-and-center stage characters. Tao I would categorize as a gracious dork. On Game Changer, he plays up his 'weaknesses' for laughs, or (in the case of Secret Samta) takes advantage of his weaknesses in order to pull the rug out from under everyone. I could say the same for Jess, which you can see clearly in the very first episode of game changer. Jess is also able to do and say otherwise embarrassing things with complete confidence. Carolyn is the only person on the third tier who I haven't seen very much of, but she's hot and funny so what else do you need?

Anyways, the third tier folk are all so incredibly deliberate about their choices and what they do and say. They take a look at all of the dominoes before deciding where exactly it is best to knock them down. This makes them well suited for their roles as prompters for what is presumed to be REAL LIFE. (i.e. the second tier are not aware that they are just as subject to Sam's mind games and the first tier. Their prompts all have to seem natural). Jess, Tao, and Carolyn are fantastically well suited to this. They are all willing to put themselves and others through awkward situations that are adjacent to real life scenarios, all for the bit. And they do it spectacularly.

In this way, not only is the show structured with tier one as set up, tier two as build up, and tier three as punch line, but also each cast of comedians within each tier is perfectly suited for that structure of joke. Brennan, Katie, and Raph are excellent at committing hard to a scenario (the set up). Trapp, Reha, and Lily are fantastic at building up tension and fleshing out that scenario (the build up). And Jess, Tao, and Carolyn were brilliant at subverting in the third act (the punchline).

I'd also like to point out that there's a relationship here with increasing material at each tier as well. All the first tier has to work with is the bingo game and what Sam gives them as prompts and encouragement. They fill in the rest with their character. The second tier thinks they have all of the material and therefore dismiss otherwise strange circumstances (Rekha on the apple box, the um actually box, Lily putting her foot up on the table). The third tier actually does have all of the material, and that material includes their own bingo games, everything that tier 2 is doing, and everything that tier 2 is reacting to on the game changer set.

Anyways, whoops wrote an essay.

TLDR: Gamechanger Bingo does an awesome job at showing off everyone's different skills in comedy. It's excellent. I love it.

[deanscherrypie420]

𝑼𝒔

A/N: Another Cas fic was highly voted for so here it is! My friend helped me with the ideas! Hope you enjoy <3 (Also PETITION FOR MORE CAS GIFS)

Characters: Castiel, Reader Y/N, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Pairing: Castiel X Reader

Warnings: Fluff. That's all I have to say. Lots of fluff.

Summary: You and Castiel have been friends for a little while. You've grown so close and often do everything together. Of course, it doesn't take long for the Winchesters to notice, and after a nice day with Cas, true feelings arise.

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Y/N was in the kitchen making breakfast, scrambled eggs and bacon for everyone. Slowly but surely, the boys began making there way to the table, sitting and chatting about a possible hunt.

When she turned around, she smiled at the sight. She walked over with the pan and scooped food into each of their plates. "Don't worry Sam, the fake bacon is on the stove." She teased him and he rolled his eyes, standing up to fix his plate.

"It's not fake bacon, it's healthier." He muttered and Dean laughed. Once they all sat down and began eating they started discussing a case.

Y/N glanced over and noticed Castiel had finished all of his food. "Damn, Angel. That was quick." She received a small smile and a nod in return, motioning towards the food. "It was good."

The brothers looked at each other for a moment, Dean raising a brow and Sam shaking his head. "Cas, I thought you-" He started, but the younger Winchester cleared his throat obnoxiously loud and gave Dean a tense smile. "We thought you could come with us on the case."

Y/N picked up her beer and rolled her eyes, not buying their bullshit. Castiel's face contorted, a puzzled expression creasing his features. "I almost always go with you, why wouldn't I now?"

"No reason, Cas. Just makin' sure." Dean finished before grabbing his plate and setting it in the sink. "I'm gonna go get ready, meet you guys out by the car in thirty."

She got up and grabbed everyone's plate, rinsing them off in the sink before washing her hands and retreating to her bedroom. Castiel was already there, handing her the bag he packed for her.

"Cas, I am fully capable of packing my own shit." She said as she searched through the luggage, making sure she had everything she needed.

"I know, but I like to make things easier for you." He stated and she smiled up at him. "Thanks. Now let's go, I want shotgun." The angel laughed and walked her outside, his hand on her back the whole way.

Unfortunately, Sam had beat her to the front seat and she groaned. "Seriously, Winchester! You always sit shotgun, let me have a turn!" She whined and Castiel frowned at her.

"You don't like sitting with me?" He asked and she quickly shook her head. "No, no, I just-... Fuck. Fine." She stammered, reluctantly getting into the back.

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When they arrived in Oklahoma, the brothers went to scout out a motel and insisted Cas and Y/N take a look around the area for anything suspicious.

The town was actually quite nice. Bright sun, markets on every block, pretty houses. While they were walking Castiel noticed a flower shop and motioned towards it. "Do you like flowers?" He questioned, and she nodded.

"Yeah, they're pretty. Do you?" She asked back, and he nodded as well. They crossed the street and went inside, the fresh scent of blooming plants flooding her senses.

"Do you want me to buy you flowers?" The angel offered and she smiled up at him. "No, Dean would be pissed if he found out we wasted our time here." She laughed a little at the thought and kept walking around, admiring the beautiful bouquets.

"But I don't think we're wasting time..." He murmured to himself with a small frown. After a moment he quickly followed her out of the store, earning a weird glance from the cashier.

"Y/N," He started and she glanced up at him. He pulled a bundle of purple flowers out from his trench-coat and handed them to her. "I wanted to get you flowers. Dean can't be mad if I didn't spend money."

She felt her cheeks warm as she studied the purple petals. "Castiel, you are aware you just stole from a shop, right?" She chuckled as he bit his lip to think. "Well, that's okay. I'm sure they can grow more."

The two of them laughed as they wandered through streets, the conversations flowing naturally. After a while she checked her phone and sighed. "We should probably get back to them."

"But they haven't called us. They said they would call us if they needed us." The angel bargained, glancing at her phone to see the time as well. "And it's not even that late." He added.

"Don't argue with me, Angel." She teased and he scratched the back of his head with a nervous laugh. "Thank you for the flowers, by the way."

"Of course. They reminded me of you." He responded and she quirked a brow. "Why is that?"

"Because they're beautiful."

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After a few nights, they finally could call this a successful hunt. They went out to celebrate at a diner, Dean in the mood for nothing but pie and beer.

After the waitress came by and took everyone's order, Y/N nudged Cas. "You didn't order anything, do you want to share my plate." He shook his head and squeezed her leg. "No, I don't eat food."

"What do you mean? You eat food all the time." She questioned, a suspicious look on her face. "I don't need food. It all tastes like molecules, so I don't really care for it."

She raised a brow, confusion evident in her expression. "You eat my food." Her voice was raised at the end, as if it were a question. He nodded and smiled down at her, "I care about you."

The two Winchesters looked at each other, Dean obviously grossed out. "Get a room you two." Sam bickered and Dean widened his eyes in agreement. "For not liking food you sure do love the cheesy shit." He muttered.

"I love Y/N." Castiel said in an attempt to defend himself, but the table quickly went silent. Sam and Dean looked at each other with raised brows before glancing over at her.

"Was that inappropriate?" Castiel mumbled as he looked over at her, a slightly uncomfortable look in his eyes. She shook her head and let out an airy laugh. "No, it-... It's perfectly fine. I love you too, Cas."

The brothers broke out in an obnoxious celebration, laughing and nearly yelling at the two of them. "You lucky son of bitch!" Dean hooted, and Sam clapped his hands together in a laughing fit. "Oh that was adorable!"

Castiel looked over at her again, a bit concerned. "Why are they acting weird?" He questioned. "Because they're immature little boys." She retorted, not giving a care in the world. She moved forward and kissed the angel, a soft and quick kiss.

"I love you, Y/N."

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A/N: yippee. This took me a lot of motivation but I finally finished it. THANK YOU @m1zumon6 FOR THE HELP <3 I'm sorry I didn't let them eat grass 😔

I hope you all enjoyed!

Follow, like and leave feedback! Feel free to send requests <3

[rise-my-angel]

NSFW Alphabets

Jon Snow and Robb Stark

Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 17.5k

Warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, discussions of various kinks, mentions of past sexual assault and trauma, talk of pregnancy, hard dom/soft dom/sub dynamics explored, bdsm related content

Notes: The dynamics are based off of pairings from my series Heart of the Great Wolf, but can be read on it's own for the most part. Broad strokes for it being read without my fic series context: the relationship timeline was the reader secretly seeing Jon pre start of show/books, then married to Robb in an arranged marriage during the Kings visit to Winterfell, and then back with Jon post his resurrection hence why his sections are split into two parts. Might contain some spoilers for part 3 and a bit of part 4, for my fic in some places.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

You two had never gotten far that normal aftercare was ever needed. Jon might be teasing, but he was gentle and slow, and that went right through start to finish.

Sometimes, all you had was the alone silence of the middle of the night, and whatever you two had tentatively done with one another always ended with a struggle to let the other go. Jon simply didn't have time or the freedom to take care of you after making you cum. Even when it was something more simple, kissing the other on his bed, his back against the wall and you perched in his lap, as the closest you got as a grind against his covered cock. Jon would kiss you gentle once on the lips another to your forehead as he held you tight until he was sure you were alright to be on your own.

The last thing he wanted was to send you off to your own chambers, feeling as if Jon had just mindlessly kicked you out.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

There is very little Jon takes more seriously then caring for you after sex. He knows exactly what he is, intense and overwhelming, and he knows he is rougher with you then he sometimes realizes in the moment.

As soon as you both settle from your peaks, Jon will pull you quick into his arms. Some nights he will keep you on his lap, tucking your face into his neck as he runs a hand over your hair and the other gentle along your back and waist, until he feels your breathing return to normal. Or Jon moves to lay you out, normally somewhat on your side so he can turn to face you, tucking you into his chest. His own face buries in your hair as his voice is low and rasping, soothing words to you of comfort. Praises of how well you did as he tries to convince himself to be gentle if he kisses you.

Jon will always ensure you feel safe, and loved before anything else, and he will keep running his hands gently on your skin and murmur comforts in your ear until he feels you fall asleep. Even then, he normally continues to stay awake, watching you until he finally feels his eyes beg for sleep of his own. The rougher he takes you, the more gentle and soothing Jons touch and words are after as he coaxes you back for him.

Robb Stark:

Robb is fully aware of how hard he goes with you. You have minimal experience outside of him, and he brought you into this sort of thing with rough thrusts and a dominating nature. But it also means he knows how much he needs to make up for that when it's all over.

He will check up on you, ask if he went too far or if you didn't enjoy something and the next time he pays close attention to how far you've dropped and when. Which with him, is often. But Robb switches when it's all over, and the second he looks at you, all he sees is the love of his life and he wants to bring you calmly back to him. He'll hold you, speak soothingly to you with tender touches along your skin and many times he tries to get you to talk. The more you talk, the more clear your head is, and if he can make you laugh then Robb knows you're alright.

Much of the time, you often end up falling asleep together in the same position your aftercare was spent. Robb usually on his back, his arms wrapped around you as he tucks you into his side and your head drapes comfortingly on his chest. For all his talk, Robb loves nothing more then to just lay in bed and cuddle with you when you're done, and he adores that you are just as needy for a loving touch.

If anything, aftercare that Robb needs from you, is to just let him hold you and keep you tucked into his arms as much as you need his touch to calm you down as well.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you were to ask Robb, his brother would joke that it's his hair he likes best about himself. But in truth, Jon never really thought much of it in that way. Of himself. He looked how he looked, and he didn't really care about much of it.

Robb was more handsome and Jon didn't really care what girls thought of how he looked because as long as you liked how he looked, that's all that mattered.

On you? Jon had two answers, if it were blatantly sexual Jon would say your breasts. Soft, seemed to be made to fit perfectly in his hands and you were sensitive as all hell, that simple touches could work you up in an instant.

Not sexually though, it would be your smile. Not just any, but that soft, gentle one you'd give him when no one else was looking, beacuse you just wanted him to know you were paying attention to him no matter what. You were so stone faced all the time, but whenever you'd give Jon that smile? It could make the worst of his days better in an instant.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Easily that would be his hands. He did much with them and despite the amount of which was death and bloodshed, Jon knew he never did it beacuse he liked it. Jons hands were to him, a reminder of the man he had become, someone who at their core, was a protector. Of you, of the innocent, fighting for what was right when no one else would make the sacrifice.

But they also were the same hands that calmed you down. Your worst moments, trapped still somewhere in a hell of Ramsay Boltons making, they were the same hands that would cup your cheeks, run along your soft skin until you looked at him with those eyes.

Eyes that were something he could never get enough of. Soft and wide, you held so much more emotion in them now then you ever did before, and Jon adored it. You almost couldn't hide from Jon as long as he could find your eyes, and read whatever was in your head in seconds. They were beautiful to him, and they were the same eyes he kept dreaming that your children together would have, and that made them the thing he adored the most.

That, and Jon knew he had a tendency to make you look him right in the eyes when he was inside you, and he was weak to how needing they always looked when you did.

Robb Stark:

Robb easily loves his hands. How since you've been married, since you escaped Kings Landing and came back to him, all hes wanted to do is use those same hands to protect you. It's easy to tell, Robb almost always has a hand on you if he's near and it's heavily rooted in how he knows your safe and he can protect you, if he feels you right beside him.

He also knows how much of a mess he makes of you with them in so many ways. Those hand go quickly from innocent and protective all the way to perverse in seconds. And he knows exactly where to put them to make you melt to him.

On you, his favourite more innocent part of your body is your hips. They're perfect to him, shaped just right to the way he can so easily imagine you with his child right in your arms, a son perched near your hip as even then, you still speak to his lords and knights with command. He has a hand on them a lot, likes to move you with hands on your hips, they're just soft and perfect for him.

More on the filthy side, Robb fully can admit he is utterly obsessed with your ass. He knows it, you know it, there's no question. He wants you in pants all the time just beacuse of how well they shape your ass, the harder he smacks them the more he watches your cheeks jiggle and he gets worked up aggressively when he can see the red outline of his hand print after he's slapped and groped your ass as much as he can get away with.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Call it insecurity, but Jon almost didn't want his end to be part of the equation with you. If he could make love to you and not have to worry about that, he'd have been ready a long time ago.

To him, sure it felt good, but when he was with you he was always plagued in the back of his mind. Getting you pregnant was truthfully his biggest fear, and so he spent a lot of time learning what felt best for you when he touched you, and not wanting to let you do much back. Jon loved learning what made you cum, but he was almost strict in not really letting you reciprocate. He liked making you feel good, and he didn't ever want to risk ruining your life by getting you pregnant, and he certainly refused to force his own child to be born a bastard.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon knew as soon as he slid inside you for the first time, it was different. Not a shred of that insecurity was in his mind anymore.

He fucked you against the wall that night steady and slow, and there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that he wanted to cum as deep as he could. Pressing you tight against the wall and sinking as far as you could take him, all Jon wanted to do after, was do it again. And again. He dreamed about it, he craved it, he loved cumming inside you and he didn't have the sensibility or willpower anymore to stop himself.

He was quick all on his own to have everything to brew you moontea, he wasn't about to get reckless. Until you were both in the right place together, Jon would make sure part of taking care of you after was to make you some as you rested. Easing whatever parts of both your minds would worry if you became pregnant before either of you were ready.

But really, Jon wanted only to spill inside you, and when you couldn't take anymore then he'd paint your beautiful skin with whatever he still had left.

Robb Stark:

There are only two places Robb wants to cum, down your throat or inside your cunt. If some gets elsewhere then you look like a dream painted with his seed, but if he isn't cumming inside you, he wants it down your throat.

He would watch you swallow his seed and the man could almost orgasm again just from that sight and feeling. The knowledge that even just your stomach is filled with him, as much as he fills you with his cock, makes him lose his mind. And you swallow him so happily too, as if you love the taste of him and he suspects you are too embarrassed to admit you do.

But he also loves cumming inside you. At his core, Robb is a man dedicated to family, it means everything to him. And he wants every and any chance to start one with you, so he always wants to cum deep inside you as many times in a night as he an get away with. The more he does, the sooner likely you may find yourself pregnant.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

It's not dirty, nor is it much of a secret really, but Jon sometimes wondered if you truly understood just how long he's been in love with you.

He knew Lord Stannis Baratheon's daughter was coming to serve as his fathers ward, but he didn't think much of it until the day you arrived. He and Robb were 10 and had been in the training yard. But his memory was so striking and vivid when his father had come by with this small 8 year old girl with scared eyes looking everywhere with uncertainty.

Robb was swinging a practice sword at him, and almost accidentally smacked him in the head, beacuse Jon had stopped paying attention since he was staring so much. When he realized who you were, he almost wanted to throw up at realizing he was going to have to spend months in the same home as you, beacuse he thought you were the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

When you had been introduced to Robb, you looked at him after and asked what his name was. He was nervous telling you he was a Snow, but as soon as you asked simply if he was the other son of Lord Stark which your father mentioned, he realized you had barrelled right past the fact that he was a bastard and just lumped him in the same place as Robb.

Jon hadn't ever said it, but he was pretty sure he fell in love with you then, and it never stopped for even a second after.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon sort of has two secrets. One is more blatantly filthy, one is a little more serious. The serious one is something you think is only a joke.

He had told you once, that he had previously wondered when he was thinking of taking the black, if he should just take you far north instead. Leave, and build you a nice, warm home there where you could just be together. But in those dreams, Jon genuinely wanted children. He could see at least five, in that memory. Four little ones running around, and you swollen with his fifth child, beacuse who you two were didn't have to matter.

It was a sensitive subject for you now, and he would never even consider pushing before you were ready. But by present day when he would joke that his dream was up to ten children, Jon didn't know how to tell you that he wasn't really kidding. He never thought he would have a family, and now that he could with you, he wanted as many as you both could possibly have.

His second was blatantly filthy. Jon loved your breasts, perfect size for his rough hands and they were so sensitive. But Jon heard something from one of the free folk once, and now he held this dirty image of marking them up. Bruises and indents from his mouth and teeth until they turned colour, marking them right up until they were so sensitive you could tear up.

Then he wanted you to lay out on his bed, and he'd climb up over you and fuck them. Slide his cock in the space between your breasts and fuck them like he was inside you.

Then, just to finish the image, right when he was about to cum he'd pull back enough to make sure he coated both of your breasts in his seed, before grasping you again roughly to spread himself all over them.

Not in any life would Jon want to ask you for that, but it didn't stop him from thinking about everytime his teeth ran over the small buds on your breasts.

Robb Stark:

Robb has done it in small doses, tying up your wrists behind you, but Robb dreams of you letting him go a little more feral with it.

He wants you tied up all the way, at nothing but his mercy, can't move on your own, tie your pretty legs to the bed posts to keep you spread and your hands together up above your head. He'd blindfold you, too.

He wants to be so in control of everything that happens to your body in that scenario, without you even being allowed to see what he does, he wants you to trust him to such a degree you give up all your control left.

He won't ask you for that, he knows he'd be asking for something that's too extreme, so he does it in small doses. Makes you keep your eyes closed, ties only your wrists, only drags a small blade down a shift to expose your breasts when really if he could, Robb would do so much more. Maybe keep you standing in the middle of his bedroom, hang your arms up above your head with rope and cut off all your clothes like they're nothing to him. He has no idea where this desire has come from, but gods does he ever come up with new and inventive ways to ease you into every bit of it.

Maybe one day, you'll let him be enough of a animal, to just let him treat you like a pretty little slab of meat he can do whatever he wants with. Just once.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Not a shred of experience to be found. But Jon wasn't embarrassed about it.

He didn't care what others said about him, they didn't know Jon had you. Jon had been in love with you since he was 10, he never wanted any other girl that entire time, and he couldn't convince himself to look at one long enough to even try for a kiss. You and Jon were each others firsts. He was 18 by the time he kissed you that night in the wolfswood, and he was so happy he saved it for you.

After that, he dreamed of learning what you both liked together, and he enjoyed discovering all of it. You never went that far together, you both enjoyed taking it slow, but it was always at the exact same speed as the other.

So he'd let Theon make his jokes about him not being with a girl, Jon and you would get there when you both were ready.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon knew his approach to physical intimacy with you was different now, but he didn't like thinking about why.

On one hand, he knew you had much more natural experience. You married Robb, he took your maidenhood, and he taught you everything you had learned of sex in the three and a half years you shared. But then you were the Boltons captive, and every single bit of confidence, every part of you that was growing comfortable with sex was destroyed, taken away from you by force at the hands of Ramsay. And in a horrible way, whatever confidence Jon had spent 6 years building with you, was taken away from him too.

Calling his time with Ygritte “experience” made him feel unwell. It wasn't that. It was survival. Jon knew in his time travelling with her, he had tricked himself into thinking it was normal. Pretended it was normal to never want it, pretended it was normal to actively feel such deep self hatred if his body even remotely enjoyed the physical sensations alone, pretended it was normal to actively find ways to avoid letting her near him if he could. He didn't want any of what Ygritte took from him, but that was all the experience in terms of sex that Jon had.

It was why he pushed so hard to do certain things, like putting his mouth between your legs, with you as often as he did. If he consumed his mind with doing it with you, it negated the force in which made him learn about it in the first place. It wasn't easy, and he still knew he was avoiding talking about the worst of it with you, but Ramsay had hurt you more then Ygritte forced him, and so Jon preferred to focus on taking care of your safety.

Robb Stark:

If he were to summarize it in simple terms, Robb would say girls liked him more then he liked the girls. He wasn't stupid, he understood it. Robb knew he was handsome. He was the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark, and he was also the heir to Winterfell. Robb knew he had a charm to his attitude that swooped in the easy giggles from girls.

But Robb more enjoyed that in a playful manner then he did serious. Sure he had sex with some of them, a few of them more then once but he never really had feelings for them beyond surface level affection. Never enough that his father or mother even would've really met any of them except in coincidental passing. Hell, compared to Theon the two men used to joke, Robb may as well have the experience equal to that of a septa.

By the time he married you, he hadn't been with a girl physically in years, and even if he did, all it meant was he knew how a girls body worked a little better then most guys. He knew your body better then you did before he ever touched you though, considering how overwhelmed he made you on your wedding night.

You were always so innocent compared to him, that he knew it made you feel as if he had hundreds of girls before you. But in truth it had only been a handful. And more importantly, he had never been anywhere near in love before he married you, and so you were the only experience he cared about.

He didn't fuck you on your wedding night like he did other girls, he fucked you in a way he had carefully planned out that you would enjoy. His experience just meant that he went in with more confidence then not on your wedding night.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

You two had never gotten that far, so he never really had a reason to think about what he preferred.

Jon did enjoy standing behind you when you two were alone, his hands gently trailing along your skin or under the collar of your dress. His hands rough and pulling gasps that you would bit your lip to prevent when he would twist and pull at the small pink buds of your breasts. Jon would always press his lips lightly to your neck, beacuse he loved how you would instinctual lean back into him. Rely on Jons firm stature to keep you standing on two feet as he eased you into his touch.

Maybe he was biased too, but if he were touching you more intimately, he liked having you sit on a surface as he stood between your legs. It was the way you two were positioned when he touched you for the first time out in the wolfswood, and he treasured that day a lot. He loved cupping your cheeks when standing before you like that, knowing as soon as he'd let one hand drift down your arm, you'd almost tense up in wonder if you'd feel his hand jump to pull the skirt of your dress up. Or if he'd simply wrap it around your waist to pull you more into his kiss innocently.

It wasn't a position of sex he liked about it, he just knew you associated it with the same afternoon he did, and Jon loved to tease you with his touch so you could only wait and see if he'd once more grace you with the experience again.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

There was no question Jon didn't just prefer missionary, he adored it.

Not a single other way he's taken you has Jon liked more or even anywhere near close to when he simply hovers over you with your legs gently spread for his body. One large hand hoisting your thigh up onto his hip while he felt your other leg move to almost wrap partially around one of his legs as if needing him to keep you steady flat out on the bed.

He loved taking you when you were nice and comfortable, spread out on his bed or on the furs in front of the fire in his chambers. He'd hover over you and be able to see every inch of you, move your legs either apart or over his shoulders when his mouth watered at the thought of tasting you. He could kiss you anywhere that way, and hold you down, as his strength meant he could keep you there as he kissed his way down to your cunt. And it also meant he could follow that path right back up and force you to taste yourself on his tongue while his other hand moved to sink his cock deep inside you. All the while, Jon could watch you and your eyes perfectly and you never had to do the work if he held you there. Just the way Jon wanted it.

Jon loved being able to control the pace he would fuck you at, ensure you were nothing but in deep pleasure. He could reach his hands up, interlock his fingers with yours and press them into the sheets. He could watch your face twist in pleasure, and your hands would tighten around his own fingers too, the closer you got. Or he'd let them go free, and you'd unknowingly claw your nails down his back as you arched into him as you came. He could bury his face in your neck or hair and the position meant he could go as fast or gentle as he wanted.

There was not a single thing which would beat how much he could focus on you when Jon took you in simple missionary.

Robb Stark:

He loves taking you from behind, and there is no way Robb could deny it. Nor would be bother to. He was a gods forsaken wolf about it.

The second time he ever fucked you, he had been apart from you for months. Now back, you were both going to war, you had just escaped Kings Landing and hadn't been with him since your wedding night. But he had spent so much of that time, letting his mind drift to you during his days, that finally seeing you again he almost jumped into it as if you'd been with him all that time. Theon had once commented that he could've mistaken you two for being married for decades, the way Robb would bring you up more then he ever had in the eleven years the men knew one another.

But then he had you back, in his bed as you raked your small hands through his curls that so gently woke him up, and more importantly, woke his cock up. He flipped you over, and as soon as you were on your hands and knees he yanked your hips so you basically were only lifted off the bed only by your ass, so he could fuck you from behind. The way in which you so willingly submitted to him in that position, how Robb could pound into you like that as fast and rough as he freely wanted, and all you could do was cry his name and take it.

You soaked his cock like none other when he had you on your hands and knees, and sometimes he'd shove a hand in your hair and hold your face down to the pillow and all you'd do was clench tightly around his cock.

He knew he was acting nothing of a gentleman, and his mother would be utterly ashamed that Robb would take his wife like a complete brute. But when you were bent over in front of his cock, giving yourself over to his mercy or lack thereof and would beg for more even when he was rough about it? It made him lose his mind.

Besides, Robb was quite blatantly obsessed with your ass and from that position, he could smack and grope it all he liked. But when you really lost yourself to his cock? Your own hips bouncing back on him the whole time he fucked into you? Well it would just make him run his mouth even filthier towards you for it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Goofy was not a word anyone had ever used to describe Jon Snow.

He was brooding, intense, he felt things very raw and that extended to you entirely. Jon would tease or smirk at the start when he'd kiss you, but the second it got a little more serious he dropped the act. He took your pleasure seriously, your mood seriously, and he didn't want his time with you to turn into a laugh when it was such limited time in the first place to have with you.

He loved to hear you laugh, don't get him wrong, but his physical time with you was limited, and it just wasn't the place he wanted to do that.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If Jon was not a humorous man before, he was even less so now.

Both in life and sex, but it was more obvious when he was with you physically. Jon didn't even smile when he fucked you, not beacuse he didn't like it, or love you, but he felt nothing to be amused by. Sex was very serious to him, your safety and your well being couldn't be watched if Jon was goofing around or making you laugh.

He dedicated every ounce of focus to taking care of you, and he didn't like humour being involved there. Your safety was not funny to Jon. Sex with him was never goofy. It was intense, raw, and overwhelming for both of you. He had time to make you laugh later, that's what his words of teasing were for.

Not for the bedroom, though. Not now, not ever.

Robb Stark:

Robb would chuckle dark in what he know was a bit of a sadistic tendency towards you.

Would chuckle as you were a crying mess for him, or sometimes he would laugh at how you sounded begging for him, or gasping out that you love him. It meant you had him comfortable enough to drop the dominance enough to show the cracks of the mischievous boy underneath the rough man.

Even better was if he could make you laugh after sex, that was even better then during. He loved hearing you laugh, it was a gorgeous sound so many men would never hear in their lives. Robb loved that he was trusted enough with you, that you would let him hear you giggle like a little girl in the most venerable of moments of intimacy. He loved seeing you relaxed enough to feel that amused at anything.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

Jon Snow:

If there was a place in Westeros which that kind of personal grooming for men was common, the North wasn't it.

He didn't let it get out of control, but it wasn't as if smooth, clean cut men were the norm here, and Jon was not that anyways. His hair atop his head was long, wild, black, and thick and it was around his cock as well. Coarse and rough, more like his facial hair.

But at the least Jon did enough to ensure it was fair to you.

Always clean and trimmed enough that it wasn't out of control, but Jon didn't exactly put time into it. He didn't really care, only enough that was to treat you right.

Besides, if Jons cock was deep inside you, he knew when it was on the longer, wilder side, that coarse dark hair could brush against your clit and he knew the sensation was enough to make you grasp tightly around his shoulders and back. Once he learned that, he trimmed far less often.

After all, he knew you liked how much his facial hair could burn against your sensitive skin, so why would the hair around his cock be any different.

Robb Stark:

He won't lie to himself, Robb is sort of a classic Northern man in that sense. Body hair didn't feel like something he should be ashamed of. He wasn't a wild man around his cock, but he didn't trim as much as what he assumed fancy Southern men would like to do.

Tons of them in the Kings visit were clean cut, no facial hair to be found, and groomed all fancy, and Robb hated that his mother had his curls trimmed and face clean cut. She said it was for the Kings visit, but he knew it was supposed to be for you, even though Robb knew you liked him with facial hair. You had told him as such more then once before. But at least during the Kings visit, Jon had to suffer with him on that one.

The hair by his cock was dark, coarse, and unlike the hair on his head which tinted a Tully red in the sunlight, below his hair was as dark as it ever was. It was trimmed only enough that it wasn't obscene for you, but you also clearly didn't care that much. You sucked his cock no matter what state the hair around his cock was in, so as long as it was manageable he didn't think much of it.

Robb knew he fucked you like a wild beast, so maybe it made sense he kept himself groomed only slightly above one in return.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon doesn't have much of an active physical relationship with you, mostly due to the nature of keeping things secret.

The biggest part of what he can give you, is simply romance at its core. Gentle touches, soft hands, doing little things for you and always with low tones and comforting murmurs in your ear. Sometimes if he had you in his lap, then he could feel his heart tearing at him a bit, insecurity yelling as he doubts whether or not he's treating you well.

He wants you to be loved, no matter what he's doing and even though you both hadn't reached having sex, he's just as romantic about all the rest as he is when you're both innocent and fully clothed.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon is as romantic in the moment as he is utterly intense.

His emotions are at an all time high when he's fucking you, and yet he feels almost terrified of letting you think he's anything but obsessed with loving you with all his heart. His touches are tighter, rougher, words harsher as they come out, but Jon will cling you to just as much as he knows you do him.

Sex is intense with Jon, and making sure you feel loved, safe and cared for is his biggest priority.

You've both had your share of being forced on by another person and Jon will do everything to ensure you never come close to that again with him. Jon knows he's addicted to you, worships you, he'd go to the ends of the earth and back for you. And if you don't feel that and more when Jon is inside you, then he would consider that a failure on his part.

He's raw and intense, but romance and intimacy is what he treasures with you now and he would do anything to ensure he never gives you less then that.

Robb Stark:

If Robb was aware of a massive problem he struggled with, it was that he tended to forget the romantic side of sex with you.

He loved you, he adored you in every single way, but Robb definitely was a bit on the rough, and hard dominant side when he fucked you. Rough attitude, degrading words, harsh and controlling touches and he didn't kiss you a lot during sex.

He wanted to hear you whine and beg and he couldn't do that if he were gentle and sweet. He could be the meanest parts of himself knowing that he would take gentle care of you the moment he was done.

You were the love of his life, he wanted to take you home and treat you like the actual Queen you deserved to be with him in Winterfell, but at war it was different. He wasn't always like that during sex, but it was common enough that he had a heavy heart knowing you trusted him to truly take care of you when you handed your obedience over to him like that.

Robb knows he is more of a man that thinks of sex as fucking rather then making love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you were in Winterfell, no, he didn't masturbate.

Jon wanted to spend time with you, treasure every chance he got to feel your soft skin, your beautiful lips against his. If you were in the North, Jon had no thought of it, beacuse he had everything he would be fantasizing about anyways. You slowly explored things together, so if you were right in front of him, that was enough. But you weren't always there.

He hadn't started touching himself thinking of you until nearing fifteen. But really, what else was a teenage boy, with a crush on his best friend, supposed to do? It happened more after he kissed you though, he was eighteen and exploring more of an appetite for things sexual in nature anyways.

When you weren't there he would try and hold off, but sometimes you were gone for so long that he couldn't help it. It wasn't ever as satisfying as even being near you like that, but it was all Jon had when you'd be away from him for months.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon has you. He doesn't want anything else.

He came back to life, and only minutes after that did Jon slide his cock deep inside you for the first time, and he lost all interest in doing it himself then and there. He wanted you, your touch. Your wet, warm, and tight walls that clenched around him.

The only time he came close to masturbating anymore, was if he would bring your hand to his cock, covering it with his bigger one and help guide you to stroke him. But only ever until you felt confident to take over, otherwise any touch his cock got, he wanted it to be with you.

Masturbating just didn't interest him now. Jon had you, and he wanted you. Why settle for less then when he knew you wanted him as well?

Robb Stark:

Never once since you came back to him after escaping Kings Landing, did Robb not have you right there at his side. So in truth, Robb hadn't masturbated since you came back. What would he want that was better then his pretty little wife right in front of him?

When he was acting Lord of Winterfell, he admits he masturbated a bit more in the very dead of night then he used too. Partially the stress of everything, being away from his new wife after one night messed with his head on top of everything.

Robb would end up kneeling on the bed, grasping rough at what was supposed to be your pillow and stroke his cock. Through gritted teeth Robb would mutter as he did so how much he missed you, how much he wanted you back with him and how much he wanted to teach you beyond your first night together.

But then you were finally back, and Robb once more found no love for his hand when he had his pretty, needy little Queen ready to do whatever he said.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Without ever actually having sex, Jon didn't really have much of a concept of that kind of thing. He knew what he liked when you two were physical, but that level of sexual interest hadn't existed yet.

He had things he liked of course. He adored when you would run your hands through his hair, nails scratching along his scalp and giving little instinctual tugs when Jon would be a little more bold. He also knew he liked to take care of you, he liked making sure you felt good, and he loved to tease you until you might just pass out from a flustered embarrassment.

It was never in a context of genuine sex, but you and Jon learned together what you liked. You just didn't have the chance to take it that far.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you were to ask Jon directly, he'd say he didn't really have any kinks. But the more he'd think about you, the more he touched you it was clear there were some major ones.

Always making sure he was soft about it, and gentle as to not push you too far, but Jon loved being dominant with you. His entire life was at the bottom, out of his control and lacked any choice. But now? Now things were different, and you trusted him with your well being during sex and Jon took charge of that with immense responsibility.

He didn't like feeling not totally in control when with you, and dominance was the most natural way Jon presented himself during sex.

Jon didn't admit it to you, but he was obsessed with cumming inside you for a reason. He wanted to fill you with his seed constantly, over and over, keep it deep inside you until neither of you had anything left.

Jon would genuinely dream about keeping you tied to his bed, fucking you over and over, until you were with child.

Gods help him when he was with you, and his mind started to think about getting you pregnant. Because Jon didn't stand a chance of composure after that, all he dreamed of was you letting him spill inside you again and again until you swelled with his child.

And if that was a kink, then Jon absolutely had it.

Robb Stark:

Robb knows he can get a bit mean during sex.

He's dominant, very dominant. A strong, controlling weight on top of you that knows exactly how to order you around in the most pleasurable way for you. He gets off on being controlling dominant, and he also really gets off on how insanely obedient he's taught you to be.

You trust him so much that he could ask you to anything and you'd do it because you trust him to take care of you. It drives him mad how much you submit to him.

How he adores you with all his heart, but Robb degrades you like you're a whore in some brothel he's paying a copper for. And how much you love it. He so easily calls you a needy little slut, his whore of a Queen and you will whine everytime he hisses those things in your ear.

He also admits, that perhaps what helped him get used to being called a King, was hearing you say it as he fucked you. Having his Queen beg for her King to fuck her certainly made Robb learn he enjoyed it, at least as long as it came begging out of your pretty mouth.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

One might think his favourite place to be with you was the privacy of his own room, but it was really the opposite.

Jon had five siblings, three of the youngest which liked to barge in on him at any moment during the day, meaning anything he and you did in his room like that had to be very easily hidden.

Most of the time, you and Jon liked to just go for a ride on horseback for a while, and wherever in the wolfswood you would end up was where the most exploration you two had with the other. No one was around, the likelihood someone would find you exactly there was so minimal in the vast, large expanse of the not very populated North.

You both loved being outdoors like that, where no eyes would find you and you could be as close and affectionate with the other with total freedom.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon has two similar favourites, and a guilty pleasure.

Mostly, he loves taking you in his room. Either he wants to lay you out on his own bed where he can climb over top of you and take you as many times as he wanted, or Jon would do so as you were both bare on the fur in front of his fire. His room always ran cold, but between the heat of the fire he diligently would tend to, and the quite warm temperature of Jons own body heat, even on the coldest nights he could have you sweating if he fucked you in front of the fire for long enough.

He loved the intimacy, the freedom of fucking you where was the most personal to you both, and now his position and title meant being barged in on was unlikely. Jon would pull you into his arms, and let you tuck into his chest bare as anything as you fell asleep. If in his bed it was easier to cover you up. But if he laid with you after out on the fur, if someone walked in now, that was their fault.

He did however, have a more perverse pleasure in fucking you up against the Weirwood tree in the Winterfell godswood, the night sky all around. Jon loved taking you deep for only the unjudging eyes of the old gods to bear witness to his need for you.

Robb Stark:

If Robb is a traditional man in any way it's how he has no interest in fucking you anywhere but in his room, in his bed, or at least what tent acted for your room out in his army camp.

He's fine with people hearing you, if anything he hopes his men have had a few good nights with their own hand listening to the degree to which you whine and beg when his cock is pounding into you. But he never once would let them see even a glimpse. Not a chance.

One time Theon had walked in, and Robb got so mad at what he almost saw that the Greyjoy later swore Grey Wind was about to rip his head off. After that, Robb would have Grey Wind guard right outside your tent together, as long as he was there, no one came in for any reason.

The direwolf would come in to sleep when it was all over, but he kept guard so Robb could fuck you into the mattress as hard as he wanted without any more risk of someone seeing you so pretty as you took his cock over and over.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

For a man who was terrified of getting you pregnant, Jon knew it was strange to get worked up watching you with children. So much of the time you were stoic and serious. But you were so soft and easy to smile with children that he couldn't get enough of it.

Much more specific, the first kiss you shared after each time you would return to Winterfell would work Jon up. You two always having to wait until the dead of night, and finally when he was able to kiss you after however many months it had been, it inevitably turned into you both kissing passionately for quite a while.

Jon had to learn how to be very controlled when he wanted you, knowing neither of you had the freedom of just being able to express that whenever you desired.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Were you to strip Jon down to his bare essentials, he would honestly just be turned on by you at any time. It took mostly, for you to even be a thought in Jons head for him to want you.

Your soft eyes gentle smile and even more gentle and caring touches worked him up. Worse so, the more innocent your kiss, the more genuine your touch that wasn't sexual, it would make Jons cock the hardest the quickest.

You two were together and had the freedom to show it, Jon had no more reason to want to hide how much you made him want you. It definitely wasn't always sexual, but sometimes it was a struggle for Jon to not let it turn sexual.

He didn't want you thinking he saw you as an object to fuck, sex was something he trusted so much between you both that it was an extension of how much he loved and adored you. But it also meant, you made his cock stir more often now then Jon had likely even been hard in his entire previous life.

Robb Stark:

Jealousy was one of Robbs most blatant traits. He was so jealous of the way other men looked at you or spoke about you to the degree that it made him noticeably possessive.

But what made it so strong as a need to fuck you, was how little you noted or cared about any attention that didn't come from Robb. You ignored or didn't know what men were leering at you like, but the second Robb came over with rough touches and a strained voice he was so jealous, you'd ease it by instantly going to him with gentle words and a soothing, innocent touch.

He wants his men to hear you, because none of them with their whores visiting their own tents get from them, sounds anywhere near what Robb pulls from you for free.

You are the love of his life, and what turns him on too much is how easy it is for you to remind men of that just by your innocent dedication to his love in public. He would keep a hand on you, kiss you, be sweet with you in front of his men and you would get flustered over it but let him do it because you knew that's how Robb liked to treat you.

Robbs own jealousy was a motivator, but he also knew he was easily turned on by your continued ability to be so damned innocent.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

You would tell him it's ironic, considering half of the time he spent with you in the training yard over the years was him knocking you into the dirt, but Jon would never do anything that would hurt you.

His touch was sure to always be gentle no matter what, and never too rough or demanding. He also knew that he didn't want to treat you the way he knew a lot of men treated women they were with. Or if he were honest, the way Jon reluctantly knew Theon was with women. You shared a stretch of corridors with Theon where your own chambers were and thus you and Jon spent much time when in your chambers, coping with what was inevitable to hear.

Jon didn't want to be harsh and vulgar, treat you in a way that would make you feel as if you were just like a whore in a brothel he paid for. You had brought up, or tried to nervously bring up something you'd heard about from one of the girls around and Jon shot it down.

He knew somewhat of the girls you meant, and a few of them worked the brothel just outside the castle walls in Winter Town. And Jon just didn't want to treat you the way most men treated those women.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

A lot of his previous turn offs remained the same. Only now, Jon had to work on his own intense possessiveness versus his needs. He was a lot rougher with you now, and he had to consciously remind himself that he didn't want you to feel used.

He didn't fuck you hard like that beacuse he wanted to treat you that way, Jon would just lose himself in how you felt around his cock. But it all tied into not liking to feel out of control. He struggled to let you suck his cock, beacuse he would too easily lose control and overwhelm you by going too rough.

Jon didn't like being out of control, but he knew he was lucky that you did not want to be the dominant one in bed, as much as Jon did not want to be the submissive one. It worked well, you trusted to hand your safety over to Jon and he got to be the one to take care of you entirely. He wasn't really much interested in the opposite, he didn't want to be ordered around or told what to do, not for this, not with you.

He knew he had to work on how intense and rough he would get, but Jon sometimes just didn't realize how rough he was getting. You never seemed to dislike it, but he didn't want you thinking you were just here for someone to fuck. He loved you, he adored you, and he wanted to be the one to take care of you.

Anything less then being in charge, Jon just wasn't interested in anymore. If he ever really was in the first place.

Robb Stark:

Robb really only had two hard limits for himself. He didn't want to fuck you with any risk that someone was going to see you, and he refused to do anything that would genuinely hurt you.

He went rough and played dirty but not once did Robb like the idea that you could get hurt by his hands. You trusted him with your safety in bed and Robb would always take that responsibility with the heavy weight it deserved. He knew your limits and would never push you, if he thought he was at risk he would stop.

Check in with you, gauge what kind of response you gave and decide if he needed to ease up for your sake or not. Robb would slap your ass until it was red and painful, but only beacuse you liked when he did it. That smacking would never go anywhere but your ass, and maybe your cunt when you were being particularly needy.

Otherwise his biggest no is having anyone see you. Again, he ended up having Grey Wind stand guard outside his tent anytime he intended to fuck you, just to make sure the King in the North was given the proper time with his pretty little wife that he needed without interruption. You were his, and he wanted none of these men in his camp to have a chance at seeing you no matter what he teased with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

It was ironic that you ended up being the one married with more experience, considering that Jon knew you had so little idea about sex it almost was endearing.

He had joked once that if your chambers were by Theons, how did you still know so little about sex. And you'd shove him all flustered, muttering that just beacuse you could hear sure as hell didn't mean you listened.

You had come to him one day about taking his cock in your mouth, and Jon knew you had learned it from those girls who worked in and around the Winter Town brothel. You weren't a whore he was paying for, he didn't want you on your knees like they would for any brute who had a copper to spare.

He had known somewhat about tasting a girl between her legs, but by the time he heard about it, you weren't graced with enough time for him to even try and bring it up. It was a story Theon had told when he, Jon, and Robb had a little too much wine one night. Robb had shoved the man and gotten up to find a tree to piss on, leaving Jon to listen to a drunk story but he was far too unconfident to ask a single question about it. By the time Jon might have wanted to bring it up to you, you had to leave for Kings Landing and wouldn't return until you did with the royal company to marry Robb.

And that was the end of anything he assumed.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If Jon could abuse his new title, and simply order you to not suck his cock anymore, he might have. But that was too authoritarian, and way too controlling.

The issue for him was, Jon didn't like being the one not in responsible control, and he was too wild and unpredictable when you took his cock in your mouth. Jon would much rather live and die between your legs.

It was one of the first things he did when he had come back, and maybe that turned it into an addiction. Jons mouth watered at the very thought of tasting you, and he a time or two had done it for a few hours continuously beacuse he truly couldn't convince himself to leave. He never tasted something like the wetness he would drink from you, and he never would anywhere else. It was like an oasis crafted for him alone.

Sure, it felt unbelievable when you sucked his cock, but if he was going to lose control he'd rather it be with his mouth attached to your cunt where the most pushing he could do was shock you from too much pleasurable stimulation. Rather then pushing your safety and your anxiety too far, with his cock in your mouth when he knew it could go from enjoyable to unpleasant for you in a second.

Robb Stark:

There was no point in lying about it. Robb lived for you sucking his cock.

It was one of the first things he fantasized about still during your wedding night. He imagined guiding your mouth over him so often when you and him were separated after the wedding, that when you came back to him, it was the first thing he properly did with you. Had you suck his cock like a good girl, and ever since he was obsessed.

How well you did, how much you truly, desperately wanted to be able to take all of him, how you'd close your eyes and barley realize you were letting out hums of moans and needy whines the more you sucked him. He'd guide your head at his own choice of pace, and he loved filling your stomach with his seed as if that was all you needed to live off of.

He'd known somewhat about putting his mouth on you, but by the time he had wanted to try, you two were at war and there just wasn't a whole lot of places to figure out what he'd be doing properly, and he wasn't about to go asking whatever whores his soldiers hired, to ask how to taste his own wife. That, and Robb didn't want to make you feel nervous by introducing something so intimate, and so brand new to you so suddenly.

He desperately wanted too, but it was just something he didn't know quite how to bring up to you yet.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Without ever having sex, pace wasn't exactly something Jon payed attention to. The rate in which your actual relationship developed was slow.

You had known each other for fourteen years, been together for six by the time you both wanted to try having sex, and even then you both realized neither of you were ready.

Everything he did with you was slow, he didn't rush, he didn't push, and he made sure everything he did do, was gentle. Exploring exactly what you liked, and making sure you felt loved when doing so. Something more of an urge in him sometimes whispered in his ear to go faster, or rougher with you but he could push that down easy. In your minds at the time, you both had all the time in the world.

If it all took a slow, loving pace to get there, then so be it. Or so you both once thought.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon tries to be gentle, he really does.

He often starts out slow. A loving gentleness rooted in how heavy you make his heart feel, but the more into it Jon gets, the more of something of a darker animal inside him does he let out.

He never contains himself the entire time, it's impossible. At some point, even if just right at the end, Jon will end up pounding his cock into you fast like a true wolf with his mate . Whatever dark, needy filth locked away in his head accidentally pours out in a deep husk in your ear beacuse he can't stop it.

Don't get him wrong, its passionate, intimate, and always ensuring you feel safe, loved and protected, but once Jon can hear how wet you are each time his cock sinks into you, its the beginning of the end. That's music to his ears, and he returns such a harmony right back. Fucking into you rough enough that anyone within 50 feet can probably hear how loud and rough of a slap Jons hips rutting into yours becomes. If the slap of your skin together echos in his ears, hes likely already too deep into the darker part of his mind to slow down.

He would never push you too far, never once. But Jon is unpredictable. He can start slow, sliding his cock almost all the way out before pushing himself back in as deep as he can, all the while you feel every inch of him beacuse he's just going that slow. But eventually, he picks up the roughness, and right near his final orgasm, that slap of skin becomes a steady smack as he rushes himself towards being able to cum one last time deep inside you.

But Jon knows his limits, and he is always hyper aware of how close he's getting to pushing you to yours and never once in his life will Jon ever actually cross that line. He'll get right up to it as close as can be, but never will he even slightly tip over into pushing you too much.

Robb Stark:

If there ever was a man who was a real wolf in the bedroom, it was Robb.

Slow was saved for when he used his fingers on you, and that was it. As soon as that man gets his cock inside of you, it's done. He is fucking you rough and fast until you are soaking his cock around him in a desperate cry.

Hes slow when he's in your mouth, beacuse he knows that's something you both enjoy, and he doesn't want to hurt you by pushing you too far, but your cunt is another story. Robb will fuck you fast to the point you can barley catch your breathe before he's pounding back inside of you.

The slap of your skin together is telling of how rough he goes, and the men have sometimes joked they're shocked you can ride a horse the next day, let alone bloody walk. Sex with Robb is fast and dominating, and he is happy to slow down and take his time doing everything else with you, just not when your warm cunt is clenching around his cock.

He knows if he could take you home to Winterfell, he'd be much better. He'd take you slow, take his time with you, but you were both out at war and he didn't have the luxury no matter how much Robb wished he could take you gentle and slow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

When Jon thought about in in retrospective, it might have been the perfect time for you two to have quickies.

Always in secret, never having as much time as you both deserved with the other. Were you two actually having sex, fucking you fast and quick would have been optimal. But as it stood, you never had sex. So you two never did anything even close to that.

But, in Winterfell? With his father, the household guard, Lady Catelyns judging eyes, and the varying rambunctious nature of Jons five siblings, having you quick like that would have been risky.

Someone would catch you. Anything you did had to wait until you knew you were alone. Hell, Jon once got a little too eager to gently kiss you one evening, and as it turned out, Arya had spotted you both in the stables, and that's how she found out. Jon trusted her not to tell, but he never took anything of that risk again.

In total private where he could take his time, or not at all.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you went to Jon right now and asked if he liked quickies, he'd say no. He would say he hates them. And that would be the biggest lie he's ever told in his life.

It's possible he was abusing his status as King in the North to do so, but if he were a little late to the meeting, no one was going to say anything. And he was far better at pretending everything was fine then you were, so if only Jon walked in, no one would know. Except Tormund. Somehow Tormund always could tell, and Jon would spend the next 20 minutes actively ignoring that prideful but amused glint in the mans eye.

But he loved quickies. Jon loved fucking you needing and fast. Finding an empty wall to shove you against, sinking deep inside you and overwhelming you in seconds to the point you were powerless to do anything but let Jon take you. The way you'd cling to him in those seconds after, knowing this was all you had for now when normally Jon would kiss and hold you tenderly. It just made you needier for that later.

He never would admit it, saying he only wanted you when he could take his proper time and care. But the amount of times Jons almost gotten you both caught, beacuse he desperately needed to fuck you out of nowhere, was starting to stack up quickly.

Robb Stark:

One man truly and honestly hates quickies with all his being, and his name is Robb Stark.

If he has to fuck you quick, he's not going to do it and that is without exaggeration, the end of that. Robb wants to take you apart, he wants to ruin you for hour and hours until you have nothing left but his cock inside you, and then he'll build you back up like the Queen you are. That takes time, and patience.

Robb almost gets more worked up the more he cums, he hates the idea of fucking you quick in the middle of the day. Robb has things to do, he can control himself long enough to just get over it if he wants you. Part of it goes hand in hand with not wanting anyone to see you or come close to catching you, since Robb has no shred of privacy to touch you outside the isolation of your tent at night.

You're the love of his life, he wants to make sure you never question that fact. He may whisper in your ear like you're a whore in a brothel, but he won't fuck you like one. Not like he's here to throw a copper at you, cum and then leave. He hates that idea, it doesn't even appeal to him.

Robb wants you proper, in a bed, where he can fuck you hard, and then show you how much he loves you. He can't do that if he just ruts inside of you like an animal, roughly against a wall in the middle of the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Technically, Jons entire relationship with you was the risk. He was a bastard, you were a highborn girl and niece to King Robert of all people. You were supposed to be courted by men like Robb, not a bastard with nothing to offer you but his heart.

He didn't try any experimenting or risk taking in sexual terms beacuse you two didn't have that freedom. The risk, was what Jon already did.

The risk was that night in the pouring rain in the wolfswood. He was 18 and you were nearing 16, he and his brother would hunt you and Theon in the wolfswood and see who could make it until midnight without being caught by the two wolves who knew this land like the back of their hands.

It was close to the end, Theon had been caught and Robb had given up once the rain started, so it was only Jon and you left, and Jon had finally caught you. Grabbed you from behind and held you to his chest with a low rasp of his victory, teasing in your ear.

He didn't know at first if you understood why the air changed. You were younger and certainly more innocent then him, but you were suddenly nervous enough that Jon felt confident it wasn't just him anymore. You tried to run, escape the way the air between you two changed to something heavy you didn't understand, but Jon didn't want this to stop. If you left now, he may never be confident enough again. So he grabbed you once more, tossing your back against a tree to make you stop running. You were soaked from the rain, eyes so wide and bright with lips just slightly parted in confusion, and it was too much for him to hold back.

It was the biggest risk Jon ever took, but he moved quick. Cupping both of your cheeks and leaning down to press his lips to yours. But the fact that you arched right up into him? Kissed him back eagerly and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck?

Jon knew there was no risk of him getting caught being with you that could outweigh how much this one payed off that night.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Risks were half of what Jon took now. Risk this fight, risk that battle but none were more worrying then every risk he took with you.

At every turn since having you back, it felt as if something threw a new test between you at every opportunity. Put on question how much Jon could protect you, and too many times did he not know how to stop it.

But, if there was a solace, it was that risks were only not unwilling to be taken when it came to taking you. Neither had done much and Jon fantasized about more and at every turn, he was fairly certain you would want what he wanted. He worried about it, worried that he was too rough, was too demanding, his intentions too forward but each time you came back to him with as much eagerness as the first time.

He knew he was gaining advice from either the best or worse sources, as the free folk around him all spoke rather blatantly about the sexual things they had done. Some of which Jon barley heard of, most of which Jon knew you had never known existed. And it took some work to tell himself not to try everything, but he certainly thought about them. Would hear the men go on about it, and just as he wondered why do it if it wasn't good for the woman, he'd hear just that other side from them and suddenly Jon learned far more about ways in which he could take you that you might enjoy, then he ever imagined. And he was willing to do them all, as long as you liked the idea, and it didn't harm you?

Jon might never say that he wants those things, but if they came up between you, he'd want to do it in a heartbeat.

Robb Stark:

One may think Robb would be a risk taker considering the degree to which he can fuck you any and everyday with his dominating mind and desires. But in truth, he doesn't like to take risks with you. That scares him, no matter if it's innocent or sexual in nature.

You're his wife and he came so close to losing you the way the Lannisters murdered his father, should Ser Barristan Selmy not have helped you to escape Kings Landing.

Taking new risks with you, while can be fun to playfully bicker about when you are naked in his lap as he keeps his cock sunk deep with a silent hope he's helping his seed take, he rarely will introduce anything that would be considered one.

You both are at war, you fight by his side in battle, that's more risk then Robb ever wanted with you, and he won't do any more beyond what you two already have.

He wants you home in Winterfell, swollen with his child before the proper start of Winter, he doesn't want to risk you in anyway that delays that anymore. He knows it's a big paranoia considering how much you trust him with your body, but Robb knows what your limits are and what his limits are and he refuses to go beyond those in any capacity.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon didn't have much way of gauging what he'd be like with you, at least in that manner. Much of what you two had done could've taken of their time and wasn't too taxing on either of you.

He'd draw it out as much as he could for you, and on the nights he managed to be weak enough to have you perched on his lap in his bed, he wasn't really aware of the time which passed. Of course, the time that passed sometimes went well over two hours without realizing. Sometimes he'd cum, but he could keep going after, likely the most he had in one night with you was three, but again, it wasn't quite direct touch and he had no way of knowing what being inside you might be like.

On his own, where he'd have too much of you he missed and no way to see you? It depended on how worked up he was. If he was mostly just horny, he could look to a memory of you and not last long and be satisfied.

But on nights he really missed you, he'd take out a stashed article of clothing of yours that he kept close. Grey eyes drifting to a letter of yours, and trying to read it and hear your voice in his head. Bracing a hand on the stone wall near his window, and the other on his cock, Jon could keep himself that consistently worked up for at least an hour straight on those nights.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Whether it was always in him to be like this with you, or if something about returning to life changed aspects of himself, Jon didn't know. But he could last for longer and stay hard so much longer then most men.

Jon could cum four times in a row and still be as hard and desperate as before the first. As long as something of his cock was inside you, Jon seemed to be able to last as long as it took to wear you out. His cock having that aggressive drive to fill you until he was empty just so he could do it all over again the next night. Hours it would last.

That night in the Ice Cells of Castle Black, Jon had no concept of how long he had been fucking you, but it was certainly past the hour mark by the time he pressed your back into the floor.

Again, Jon knew there was something not normal about the degree of his stamina, judging by the fact that he could spend hours fucking you so much that you practically would pass out in his arms, and Jon still would lay you down under the furs of his bed, telling himself that he can't just take you when you're this sensitive and already falling asleep.

If you truly tested his resolve, Jon would start at sun down and still be taking you by sun up. He'd need good few rests of a couple moments in between, for you and him, but it wasn't as if he needed much recovery time. On a good night, Jon wouldn't even get anywhere less then still more then half hard when pulling out of you until you two were fully exhausted.

Robb Stark:

Gods be good, the more Robb cums, the longer he can go it seems. You'd think he actually gets more hard after each time he cums inside you.

He has to rest in between, normally beacuse he knows he is rough on you and he doesn't want to accidentally push you from sensitive to in pain, but once the dust has settled? He's ready to go and Robb will tell you to just lay there and take it like a good girl if you're too tired to do the work.

He's perfectly content with doing the heavy lifting in bed for you, doing the hard work beacuse this is nothing compared to the hell outside your tent.

There are some nights his men are fully aware neither their King nor Queen got a wink of sleep, beacuse the guards near his tent could hear you both all night without exaggeration. If something could magically give Robb more energy when it made no sense, Robb had found that magical source in sinking his cock deep inside you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon hadn't even gotten his cock inside you for the first time, he certainly wasn't about to let some pleasure toy get there before him.

He didn't really see the point as well, but he considered that maybe since he's a male, he might be unfairly overestimating the ease in which women would pleasure themselves. Men were a no brainer, but Jon had to take his time learning to fine tune your pleasure like a delicate instrument and toys might help in that capacity alone.

But he knew you didn't even realize such a thing existed, and he wasn't about to introduce that to you when he himself didn't like the idea.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Not a chance.

You had a significant amount of trauma behind you now, and thus you trusted Jon to take every step of the way to ensure you were safe and alright. Jon had no interest in using anything like a toy on you, he wanted to feel you, he wanted you to feel him.

Neither of you liked fucking in a way together with little physical contact and using a toy felt so lacking of intimacy. So lacking of passion. He couldn't gauge how you were feeling, or if you were close with a toy. Jon knew where you were at by the tiniest of clenches of your cunt around his cock or fingers and he'd never know with some toy inside you.

You wanted him, not something just used by him. And Jon wanted you, he wanted to feel you not just watch you get that feeling alone.

Robb Stark:

He wouldn't consider them toys, but he has tied you up before. Not much, just by the wrists but he wouldn't say that was a toy.

He knows what toys are out there and he dismisses that idea. What would something not real do for you that Robb couldn't give you himself in droves. He already has a cock that drives you insane, he has long fingers that reach your sensitive walls beyond what any toy could provide you.

Robb wants to tie you up more, blindfold you even but that was more of a, he wants you to trust him even more, sort of thing, rather then he wants to get wild with what he fucks you with. He wants what he introduces into sex to be a tool to help make the sex more pleasurable for you, not something to act as the sex itself without him.

Robb recalled once asking Theon what the point of them was, and having a good laugh between them that it's probably just what some Southerners invented beacuse their too boring with small cocks to actually pleasure a woman with what they barley have themselves.

And judging by how much you are utterly weak for Robbs touch, he would consider that to be likely more true then not.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon had to be subtle about it, but he was relentless.

Knew the exact look to give you to make you stiffen up and hide how flustered you could get. Knew just how briefly of a touch of his hand across your lower back as he passed in public to make your breathe hitch. Jon of course, also teased you just in words. He was quite good at teasing you at all stages of your friendship together but he was sadistic once you were were involved.

Some teasing was normal, others sounded more biting and mean to people around when you knew he was just trying to get you worked up. Get you annoyed, so that he could feel you melt against him later when he finally kissed you at your most irritated at him, and tease more that you were quite predictable.

This passed to touch as well, the first time he pleasured you was simple. A nice, exploration of his fingers on your clit as he worked out what you liked best, and just as he payed attention to what it is you about to cum looked and sounded like, did he pull away. Then he worked you up and did it again as you almost whined.

He loved it, he loved keeping you on an edge that had you not being able to do anything but rely on his touch, before he took it away at the perfect moment.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Gods be good, he is one of the seven hells sent directly to torment you. Jon no longer has to be subtle or secret, he can just tease you. It doesn't matter.

He doesn't act that way in public, no. But he doesn't need to hide his wants, desires, intentions. No, Jon can work you up in seconds and just keep you dangling over a free fall all day long. It's in his words, they aren't filthy, but they are needy. He wants you and he tells you, but he won't take you. He saves it, and torments you with his own patience.

He some days, won't let you cum. Gets you right there, and takes it away. Sometimes more then once in a row, and many times, he will keep you like that for days. Some times he teases you all the same the next night, sometimes Jon takes your orgasm away at the last minute in one overwhelming night and will just leave you like that for a week.

He loves it. He loves keeping you that way, keeping you needy for him, that the second his voice rasps low in your ear, you shiver for him.

If teasing you in and out of the bedroom could be a feat worth crowning one of, Jon would've been a King months earlier.

Robb Stark:

Robb wishes he had the patience to tease you, he does. But he doesn't.

He does it in small doses, will yank you to him and whisper that he wants you naked in his bed when he returns or that he expects his good girl to show her king her appreciation later that night. But it doesn't tease beyond that really.

He prefers to take his time with you, and teasing you like that doesn't really fit into that mindset for Robb. If he wants you, he wants you then so why would he tease you for later? Part of it stems from how much you are by his side. Robb constantly has you beside him, often with a hand on you somewhere. Leaving a kiss to your hair, or a gentle kiss as he runs his thumb along your cheek in front of his men beacuse he needs you to breathe more then the air around him.

Robb doesn't want to tease you more then the little bit he does, he just wants you. And out in a war, there isn't a worse place he could think of to be a tease. He will work you up as much as it takes for you to know he wants you in his tent that night before it got too late to take care of you, but he has no patience for teasing beyond that. He already has you, he doesn't want to waste that time.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

If he and you are in the castle in Winterfell? Jon tries his best to be very quiet. He wasn't loud, more of a growl or a hiss at the sensation.

But sometimes a deep gutted groan could leave him, and that certainly was not common enough of a sound from Jon to pretend it wasn't for something filthy.

He had one trick though once he and you got comfortable enough. Jon would yank down the front of your dress, usually pulling your arms from it or unclasping it enough so it pooled around your waist, and occupy his growls or grunts with his mouth on your breasts. It was the most perverse thing the two of you would do, but it kept Jon quiet, while his other hand honestly? Well if his mouth wasn't hiding your high pitched, beautiful gasps and whines in his kiss, he'd reach a free hand up and roughly cover your mouth as you grasped at his wrist with both hands. Burying in each other to hide the sounds of your sinful secret together.

If you two were out in the wolfswood alone, it was a bit easier. Jon would let himself rumble deep, and freely encourage your breathless gasps with a gentle press of his lips over your cheek, forehead, neck, whatever he could reach.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Take that growling and grunting, and multiply it by a hundred. Jon once more, knows he no longer has any need to hide what you two do. No one cares that he has you in his bed, and so no one who could even hear through the thick stone walls that muffled much noise, would think twice.

They knew you two were together, it didn't matter now.

Jon could growl and hiss as you clenched tight and soaked around his cock, bite at your neck until he could rasp deep and strained in your ear, as he spoke the first things on his mind usually much more needy and filthy then he intended.

If he was trying to be discreet, he would bury his mouth into your neck with kisses, licks, bites, sucking rough bruises into the skin and it would cover the deep noises from within. But in turn it made you gasp and cry for him so loudly that everyone would hear anyways.

Jon wasn't really a talker, not with sex especially. The closer his orgasm got the more his heart rambled, but it wasn't intentional. He spoke from his deep desire for you with raw intense honesty. All in between rough breathing to keep him collected, only to feel that hiss or growl in his chest at how beautiful you felt around him.

If no one heard you two in low tones though, many would simply be able to hear the smack of skin as he fucked into you rough, or the hard bang of a table slamming against a wall, if he took you somewhere more public.

Robb Stark:

At the most dense, Robb has had an army camp of almost thirty thousand men at the start of the war, when he had joined with the River Lords. If someone had told him that all thirty thousand men had heard Robb and you fucking at night, he'd smirk with pride and say he hopes they got off nice and hard to how perfect you begged and pleaded for your Kings cock.

Robb is a talker in bed, he runs his mouth as filth pours out. In return, you cry and moan and beg for him, and it all is a harmony of filth that he knows so many men by now have heard from you and him.

Robb doesn't moan, he growls and he groans rough when he's deep inside of you, his voice normally warm and soothing dropping to a strained roughness that scratches at your ears as much as it soaks you between your legs as well. Robb knows just what to say to make you an obedient little mate, and he takes full advantage of that the entire night.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jon Snow:

If the only thing Jon was allowed to do for the rest of his life was kiss you, he'd never have a single thing to complain about. Last life or this one, Jon was addicted to your lips.

The way they were so soft, moulded to his perfectly, how sweet they tasted and how much you let his tongue explore your mouth with strong desire. He adored having his lips on you somehow, and the only thing that changed one he came back was he could now do it without fear of being caught. But the love for it stayed the same.

Kissing foreheads was something he always did with everyone, his brothers and sisters and you, but what was different is how rare it was that he gave you any passing kiss alone. A brush of his hand, lingering too long and getting too close to your lips when he pulled back.

To Jon, kissing you is practically a hobby. He finds his lips to you in some way constantly, and if he's inside you then he adores keeping your lips pressed to his. He loves to cum deep inside you, keeping your lips trapped against his kiss. Jon wishes to hear your moans, and swallow them into his own mouth, just so he can lick into yours and demand more sounds gifted into him.

If Jon would be able to say he has one talent, he was confident enough to say he's quite a good kisser. And he wants all of that to go to none but you. Jon kisses you more, then an entire brothel of whores will kiss all their paying men in their entire lives.

Robb Stark:

Telling you now would be so unfair, he knew. If he said it now, the man wasn't there to defend himself or refute it, and beacuse of that, he didn't want such a comment to change your view of your best friend.

But Robb was not stupid. Robb was more observant then he was likely given credit for on this one, but it didn't bother him so he didn't bring it up to a soul, not him, and definitely not you.

He didn't know the true extend of how strong it was, or if he had feelings, or for how long he felt this way. Robb didn't know those details, but he knew without any doubt, that in one way or another, Jon Snow wanted you.

He had suspected it for a while since your last visit. The way Jon would look at you, was so much more then the man thought he was giving off. He was so brooding and grouchy the month before you arrived with the Kings company, and Robb truly felt bad. Here Jon was, desperately wanting to fuck you, his best friend, only to now watch you get married to Robb.

But now, Jon was at the wall, and you were Robbs wife. Telling you now would just be rude, and a breach of trust that Jon didn't know Robb had been holding onto. But the real thing that he wasn't saying, was that if for some miracle, Robb won the war, and brought you home to Winterfell, he had seriously considered it.

Either Robb would get lucky enough to find a way to bring his brother home where he belongs, or Jon would simply come visit, the way their Uncle Benjen came to visit their father. There was no harm, you were Robbs wife after all, that wasn't breaking a vow.

But Robb couldn't help but wonder, if he could at the least get Jon to come visit from the wall, he wondered how easy it would be to convince his brother to fuck you. Now, Robb wasn't just handing you over to his brother, but just maybe, Robb wondered, Jon might be open to sharing at least some parts of you, if just your body.

Robb held out hope he could bring you home one day, and just maybe, find enough in his jealous heart to share at least something of you with Jon. He was at the wall after all, and you were his best friend.

It wouldn't be much, but maybe the wall would be a little less lonely for his brother, if Jon were to go back with the freedom to know what it felt like to slide his cock into his best friend's sweet, soaking cunt, and more perversely, how it felt to willingly fuck his brothers wife.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Jon Snow:

Jon had an ongoing joke with Tormund, just taking any opportunity the free folk could find to make some comment about how small Jon was.

It had stemmed from a nickname which Tormund called him all of his own choosing anyways. The tall, lumbering man with wild orange hair, thick beard and loomed over most. He would joke and call Jon "Little Crow", and that turned right into jokes about his size. But in honesty, that was the furthest from the truth.

He didn't quite realize at first if he was well endowed, Jon having little to no interactions that would end up at discussing cock size, all he knew was the nights he'd help guide your clothed self over his covered cock, at his most hard Jon knew he would sometimes feel you shake, hold tightly onto his shoulders and try to hide the nervous exhale at the feeling. Well, if the free folk were anything, it was not shy about that sort of aspect of them. Only realizing internally that there weren't quite many who matched up to him.

He was long, yes. And it showed even when he wasn't at all hard, how long he was. But it was how thick his cock was that was the intimidating factor, at least in terms of fucking you. His cock was long, but adding just how shockingly thick his girth was, he always left a stinging burn when he slid inside you.

Jon was just lucky that you craved that very feeling as much as he wanted to give it to you.

Robb Stark:

Robb has a distinct memory of when he had sex for the first time, how the girl afterwards when getting dressed, made a comment that for someone whose never been inside a woman before, Robb knew how to use a cock like that.

At the time Robb just wanted to put his clothes on and leave, but she then kept going. Saying that most men with a big cock were idiots, and that Robb fucked like a man who was compensating for a small one but without the small part. He didn't care about that until he married you. Then suddenly, Robb was all too aware that yes, he was well endowed and knew how to fuck.

Because now you were his little innocent wife about to take her first cock, and it was long and thick. He had kept your eyes on his when he finally undressed so you didn't get intimidated, only to then make you watch as he slid inside you for the first time, so you understood how much you were taking inside you.

He knew you would feel that sting the next day constantly from his size, but that just meant Robb knew he needed to work you up and make you wet as could be to reduce the chance of his thick cock hurting rather then being a perfect pleasurable amount of pain.

Though, Robb would admit, he got off way too much at how wide his cock stretched your pretty mouth when you sucked him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Sex wasn't something he thought of all too often. Honestly, most of Jons sex drive in those days were also tied simply with how much he missed you.

He felt more worked up about being with you when you were in Kings Landing and he couldn't do a single thing about that. He never told you just how often he'd read your newest letter to him, sitting it on his desk, bracing one hand against the stone wall in front of him and stroking his cock with the other as he read it. Trying to hear your voice, pretend as if he knew what your hands on his cock would feel like, pretend he had any clue what being inside you could feel like.

He ruined a few of your letters with that habit, not that he ever said it to you. But it was just something desperate really. He felt lonely without you.

When you were in Winterfell, he wasn't that worked up. He knew his time with you had to be careful, and you two would enjoy the other to the fullest when you got away alone. But when you were gone, you weren't just the woman he loved. You were his best friend, and being in love with your best friend meant that a lot of how much he just missed you, ended up tying itself into how much he yearned to touch you.

You were so much more then just a woman he wanted to touch, but when you weren't there to calm him down with your mere comforting presence, Jon had no outlet but that.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If putting gold on it, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive. And if he did bet on it, he would wind up being the poorest man in all the Seven Kingdoms.

It wasn't out of control, Jon had a strong drive and focus as a leader, but he could take you any time of the day. He didn't ever not want you. Jon could control his want when he needed to, and that was easy but the moment he could find any excuse to take advantage of your alone time, Jon felt his need clawing at his chest like an animal desperate to rut.

He fucked you quick during the day all the time, beacuse he was always just that ready to take you, always wanted you even when he was skilled at never showing it. He didn't want you thinking he just wanted to fuck you like an object, you weren't a whore in a brothel he wanted to use.

Jon absolutely adores you, but both your pasts have made sex something a bit strangely tied to how Jon shows he loves you. A lot of sexual trauma sat between you two, you from Ramsay, Jon from Ygritte but together you and him were learning to move forward and find a healing together. That just meant learning that Jon was a wolf with a ridiculously large appetite, but it was always with love.

He didn't want to be without you, and sometimes the only way Jon, a brooding, stoic man of not many words, knew how to express that was to taste you, kiss you, and fuck you. It was a way to express his feelings as well as move together past something that still deeply haunted you both in your own ways.

But if you asked him, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive, and Tormund and Theon who have to stand there and watch how ridiculously turned on Jon would get around you constantly, would just glance at the other with an exasperated shake of their heads at Jons degree of denial.

Robb Stark:

It was a bit complicated, essentially, Robb only had much of a sex drive when he knew he had time.

First leading a war, then becoming their King and having so much of the Lannister regime fighting against him alone that he had to split his mind into two. If he was thinking about the war, he didn't want to distract himself, and you were a perfect Queen by his side and knew exactly when Robb wanted to focus.

But then at night, when it was quiet and Robb could have you all to himself, then he suddenly felt that drive come crashing through the walls of his tent and bombard him. Once alone, you worked Robb up to wanting to fuck you in seconds. You just had to look at him alone in your tent and Robb was already almost fully hard, you made it so easy.

Sun down to sun up, Robb wanted you again and again and he could think of nowhere else he wanted to be then with you, and inside of you. You were his perfect girl, and your drive matched his perfectly too. You always wanted each other at the same time, so once Robb wanted to fuck, you were ready to hand yourself over to his cock and his mercy or lack there of, depending on the day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon never slept very well. Always would either wake up and be unable to go back to sleep, or he couldn't fall asleep in the first place. And in truth, it left a lot of nights where all Jon wanted to do, was leave his room, go down the stairs to the corridors your room was in, and find his way into laying in bed with you. He'd imagine how gently he'd crawl in beside you, gently guiding you onto your side so he could pull your back against his chest and hold you tight.

But he couldn't do that, no matter what you two did, sexual or otherwise, as soon as you and Jon were with the other, falling asleep in the others bed was a bad idea. You or him would gravitate into the others gentle embrace fast asleep too unplatonically to explain it away should one of his siblings walk in.

Which Jon hated, considering during your first visit to Winterfell, you sometimes had difficult nights you couldn't sleep or a windy storm would blow through the castle and more then once you'd find your way to Jons room asking if it was alright if you slept in there, you feeling a bit nervous being in that corridor all alone.

So now, Jon would spend his nights with you, exploring you, kissing you and he'd have to part ways to sleep separately and he never slept more then 5 hours at the most after that. He missed having you close too much.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon still didn't sleep well if you weren't there.

His bed too cold, his arms with nothing to pull tenderly into his chest, he couldn't lean over and press a tender kiss to your sleeping lips beacuse you were too beautiful to resist. He wanted you in his arms at night.

But when you two would fuck, Jon willingly didn't sleep for a while after as well. He'd run his hands gentle along you until you fell asleep, then he'd switch between watching you in more peace then you ever looked in your waking hours, or running his hands along your bare skin beacuse he loved how soft you were under his rough, large hands. On nights he wore you out particularly rough, you'd fall asleep so easily and he loved doing that for you.

You had nightmares now, more then you were ever willing to admit, and the more exhausted Jon made you with his cock, the better you slept after. And Jon liked to hold you, watch you sleep and ensure he was keeping you safe even now from the horrors in your own mind. And only when you had been quiet and peaceful for a good half hour to an hour, would Jon finally fall asleep.

You were the most vulnerable when you slept in his arms, and Jon was there to protect you. And he just liked staying awake to do that, getting some time to himself to admire you blatantly without you getting flustered over his loving gaze for so long.

Robb Stark:

Robb only slept well with you twice since marrying you.

Both of those times when you were in his bed in Winterfell after becoming his wife. Robbs room was decorative and the fabrics draped around kept the heat in well so it was always cozy in there, and under the furs of his bed. Robb never treasured a nights sleep more then the only two times so far he had in his bed with you as his wife.

He slept terribly in the war. Some nights he was so busy you couldn't even convince him to come and sleep at all, and you'd have to try again the next night. So when it was all said and done, Robb would lay with you asleep in his arms and be awake for a while. Longer then he was honest with you about.

He'd run through war strategy day after day, and at night try and piece together the life he wanted to bring you home to once this was all over. You didn't sleep well either, but as long as Robb fucked you, you slept better then he did and so he'd do it every night if it were that easy. When he did sleep, it was more what he wanted, being in bed with you in his arms, but Robb never got as much sleep as he would have, should he be able to bring you home safely to Winterfell.

[deepestnightcolor]

https://www.tumblr.com/forrest-onfire/749854472357953536/so-ive-got-the-date-night-redux-mod-for-sdv-and

saw this and thought of you immediately!! it sounds so cute

ᴀ/ɴ: First of all, thank you SO MUCH for thinking of me! I tried my best with this one, and I hope you will enjoy it! I think I got a little carried away, hehe... Thank you for your time and thoughts, love!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 4182 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: sloppy sex, unprotected sex, teasing, despair, semi public sex, Sam still has a dick piercing (fight me), drool, biting, mentions of oral (male receiving)

☾ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ☽

Being a farmer was in direct relation to being incredibly busy. Getting up early every morning; caring for all the hungry mouths that needed to be fed, tending to crops that either required watering or harvesting. Sure, your husband, Sam, was often of great help, getting up even before you to give you a hand, but that didn’t mean you could just relax for the rest of the day. A livelihood needed to be made, after all. Sadly, being a farmer also meant that you hardly ever had time to come up with ideas for dates. You tried really hard to compensate for that with thoughtful gifts or tasty dinners for your husband, yet still, sometimes you wished it was different.

That was also why your heart had leaped in your throat when Sam stopped you as you were just about to leave the house. Green-blue eyes sparkling at you with the excitement they always held when he came up with a new project or idea as he asked you on a date to camp out in the woods. “I will get everything ready; you and your cute ass just have to show up,” he had smiled. And how could you have said no to that? There was no way in hell you could have done that either way, but now he underlined his words with that cute little pout he used when he tried to convince you of something (often of something stupid, you had to admit). Instead, you had wrapped Sam in a tight hug and kissed his cheek, then his lips as you said yes, leaving the man on the porch with a bounce in your step.

And really, Sam was so proud of himself for coming up with the idea. It was going to be perfect, he found. So right after you had vanished in the barn to begin with your daily routine, he shouldered the heavy backpack that contained everything he would need to make his way to Cindersap forest.

He chose the spot close to the river, making sure to be far enough from both Leah’s and Marnie’s homes – after all, he wanted you all to himself tonight. He dropped the rucksack to the earthy ground, excitement rushing in his veins when he pulled out the bag that contained the tent. The user manual was the first thing that smiled at him when he opened the sack, but why would he, Sam, need a user manual? It was just a tent, after all. Pitching it would be self-explanatory, right? And besides, how hard could it be? Those wilderness explorer kids he sometimes saw on TV could do it, so…

It turned out that it was way fucking harder than it looked and those wilderness kids were probably a scam. At least that was what Sam’s bruised ego would have liked to believe, given the fact that he had dropped the metal bars on his toes more than once already and that he had even gotten himself caught in the canvas that was supposed to offer the two of you shelter tonight. Sam was huffing and puffing as he finally managed to untangle himself from the fabric, sweat glistening on his forehead. Where the fuck was the user manual when he needed it? He lifted the canvas again, only to be met with the pile of metal laughing at him. Why did a tent even need this many bars? It was a tent, not a mansion, for fuck’s sake! What had he been looking for again? Right, the manual. He lifted the backpack off the ground, letting out a relieved huff as he saw the booklet resting right beneath it. He was just about to reach out for it, yet a gust of wind proved itself to be faster. The booklet was picked up by the invisible force and dropped in the cool of the river. As if to add insult to injury, Sam was able to watch it drift along the stream, slowly vanishing out of his field of vision. Exhausted, he allowed himself to drop on his butt, hollering as the hard metal bars met his tailbone. What the fuck was this tent’s problem? He got up again to give it a good kick, just to regret it when his toes actually hit the hard material – even he had to admit that he could have guessed that outcome.

A glance at his phone revealed that it was nearing ten AM, and the tent didn’t even have the decency to be halfway pitched. The blond decided that harder measures were needed. Pulling out his phone again, he searched for the only solution he could think of: “Dad? Can you teach me to pitch a tent?”

Sam’s father had appeared surprisingly fast, and after getting the first few questions out of the way -very good questions, admittedly, like why he was trying to pitch a tent at ten in the morning, and where the manual was –, the tent found its master. Kent was quick in setting it up; it didn’t even take him half an hour. Sam was watching in disbelief as his father worked because he made it look as easy as it seemed on TV. “We will practise that again,” Kent offered, smacking his son on the back affectionately. “So you don’t need to call me out here again.” A grin was plastered on the otherwise stern face. “Treat her well tonight.” Sam was left blushing in the Cindersap forest as Kent made his way back home, the blond staring at tonight’s shelter. “Why the hell wouldn’t you act that way for me?”

After staring some more daggers at his newfound mortal enemy, your husband decided there was no more use in crying over spilled milk. You would arrive in about six hours, and Sam wanted this to be perfect. He carefully put up the fairy lights he had brought before he began working on the fireplace for tonight. He had brought a pot and some veggies, hoping he would be able to make a good stew for later. The rest of his plan was executed more smoothly, especially since he didn’t have to make a fire from scratch but instead had the support of his lighter.

“Sam, wow,” a voice, so soft, so full, completely in awe came from behind him. He quickly dropped the ladle he had used to stir the stew, turning around to see the love of his life. His heart swelled in his chest, seeing you like this. You had put on a dress and Yoba did you look pretty. You always did, of course. But every now and then he had moments where the realization of just how pretty you were sunk in for him; hitting him like a ton of bricks at full speed. Sometimes it overwhelmed him, to know that you, you of all people were married to him; it made him want to kick his legs, jump around, holler out the excitement that squeezed his heart in a grip full of love. He pulled you in his chest and kissed your head, allowing himself to take in this moment and quietly thank you for showing up. You felt so right in his arms, and Yoba, he would have done anything for you, just to see the look of happiness on your face. Just so you could catch a glimpse of how much he loved you.

“Come on, I made dinner,” he smiled, leading you to the fireplace. He pulled out two bowls from his rucksack – for once it seemed that Sam hadn’t forgotten anything – filling it with the hot stew that he had been preparing ever since he had been done with setting up. The two of you cuddled up near the fire as you took the first sip, a small moan leaving your lips at the taste. If Sam knew how to do something, he always managed to rock it. This stew was a recipe both he and you knew inside out, and yet it always amazed you how delicious it turned out when he cooked it. Sam was so full of pride and love that he felt himself ready to burst. When your head rested on his shoulder, he knew he had done everything right; and fuck, how he wanted to please you. Dinner was mostly silent aside from the sound of you humming happily as you did that little bobbing motion you always did when you were happy about food. It was those little things that had made Sam fall for you hard and that had him in an iron grip even after a year of marriage.

The bowls were long empty as the sun had finally settled in its bed behind the hills, but your head was still comfortably resting on Sam’s shoulder. The blond had his arm wrapped around you tightly, fingers brushing through your hair. He was mindlessly picking up pebbles off the ground as he held you, flicking them into the river. Some bounced across the surface, which always managed to get you to coo out in awe. “You know, I never figured out how to skip rocks,” you murmured into the silence of the night. Sam gasped at your confession, eyes immediately snapping down to you. “You didn’t?” “Nope. I tried once or twice, but my rocks always sank right away.” “That will definitely change tonight.” There was no time to protest because Sam had pulled you to your feet faster than you could have reacted. Just mere seconds later you were standing near the river, pressed up against your husband’s chest with a flat rock in your hand. Sam pulled your hand back gently, just to guide it forward, sending the rock bouncing over the water. “Oh wow, what the-“ you laughed, tipping your head back so you could look up at him. How was someone being so undeniably cute fair? “Now you try,” Sam urged, but what he didn’t expect was the feeling of your ass grinding into his dick as you suddenly bent down, picking up a rock that seemed flat enough to be skippable. “Like this?” You asked, pulling your hand back and then twisting it forward, just like he had shown you. The rock had the mercy to bounce twice before sinking with an audible plop.

“I did it!” You called out, jumping up and down on your heels. Sam wanted to be excited for you, seriously, he tried! But the pressing and grinding of your ass against his crotch was… a distraction.  One that made his cock stir against the fabric of his jeans. “You did it!” He strained, only barely able to hold back the moan at the tip of his tongue as you bent down again. This time your ass was flush against him, having his head roll back. Sam had always been down bad for you, and Yoba did you feel good. He knew you probably had figured out by now that he was hard and that this was part of a little game, but did he care? No.

His hands wrapped around your waist, and it took him nothing but mere seconds to pull him flush into his chest again. With a strong grip on your hipbones, he thrusted forward, allowing himself to inflict friction on you this time around. His voice was husky as it met your ear, and you could feel the smile that was plastered on his lips as you shuddered against him. “I know rock skipping is fun once you’ve got it figured out, but I have got something that could be much more fun.” “Oh, do you now?” It was a weak attempt at biting back, yet there was no way to blame you. Sam’s erection was now grinding between your legs, and you could already feel that delicious cock entering you, drooling all over your squishy walls. You could feel the metal of his piercing bump against you while he fucked into you, praising how good you took him. You could already hear his shaky little whines that always escaped him when he mindlessly and sloppily bucked his hips into you, always like a bitch in heat. It was undeniable that you could feel yourself growing wet, your clit throbbing under that arousal that ran down your spine. You hadn’t thought your teasing would bear fruit so quickly, yet your mouth was able to do much better things, you believed. Like shamelessly bellowing out that shaky moan as Sam rubbed against you much faster, with much more vigour as his hands held you to him with an iron grip. Sam’s thoughts were definitely going in the same direction, his head tipped back, your question long forgotten. He wasn’t even ashamed that he was rutting against you out in the open, illuminated by the innocence of the fairy lights he had put up just hours before. Your moans simply were so delicious, so precious. He could have fed on them for hours, starving as he was. Usually, Sam would have taken you right then and there, not minding if your screams awoke the whole valley. Though tonight, he didn’t feel like sharing.

Sam’s body moved backward to the tent, one of his hands always staying on your hip bone, as the other simply began to tug and rip at your clothes. He simply didn’t have time to be careful with how incredibly hard he was for you, his heart thundering with both arousal and love for you. “Sam!” You gasped out as you heard the seams of your shirt rip, but a muffled “sorry” had to suffice. After all his lips were busy kissing all over your neck as he dragged you to the tent, a set of sharp fangs sinking into your freshly exposed shoulder while his other hand worked on undoing your pants. The urgency within his movements finally made you snap into motion, the fingers that had been curling in the fabric of Sam’s blue jacket now finally working on discarding the bothering piece of clothing.

When the two of you finally stumbled into the tent both of you were breathless, and you were already half naked. Sam clumsily zipped the tent shut, before slowly turning around to you. You had already dropped to your knees on the ground, looking up at your husband with those big doe eyes of yours that he had fallen in love with. He let out a shaky breath, roughened-up palm reaching out to pin back a loose strand of hair. He had to close his eyes for a second when you leaned your head into him; the feeling of love that rushed through him was almost unbearable. “Sam,” you suddenly cooed, your own palms reaching for the tent – that one he had been able to pitch easily – in his pants, “I...I am so wet. Please, please hurry.” It was a mere murmur, but one that sent his stomach into tight twists. He knew his cock was leaking in his boxers, the wettened fabric clung to the shaft in a way that had him embarrassed. Sam licked his lips as he unbuckled his belt, half-opening his eyes to see the look of anticipation on your face. And really, your eyes were glued to his crotch as you rocked your own against your legs. He really was the luckiest man on earth, wasn’t he? Being gifted with a literal angel. He allowed his pants to pool around his ankles, his boxers soon following suit. Sam almost stumbled as he tried to approach you, but your hands on his hips guided him into a steady position. The sweet smile you gave him made his pierced tip leak more globs of pre-cum – at least he hoped it was only pre-cum. He had to hold himself together, to feel your sweet, wet cunt clench around him, hug his dick like a glove. Which, again, was harder than he had deemed it to be, especially now that your tongue darted out and pressed flat against his tip, just to turn to kitten-licks in an attempt to clean him up. His breath was already shaky in his throat, and he was surprised he was able to inhale air with how tight his whole body felt already. “Fuck, babe, no- I- I asked you on a date,” he tried, lowering himself to his knees. He was surprised you didn’t whine as he took in a criss-crossed sitting position, though he soon found out it was only because you busied yourself with getting on his lap. You had pulled off your panties by now, the fabric hanging loosely between your teeth.

“Did I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you?” Sam breathed, leaning forward to grip the string of lace between his own teeth, just to drop them on his lap in favour of kissing you. The kiss was hard and sloppy, teeth clattering against teeth as your tongues licked at one another’s. The moan you two shared made Sam shiver, his cock so painfully hard this felt like the most pleasurable torture on earth. His hands reached for your pretty tits, only to find them still held up by your bra. Your husband grunted into the kiss; a sound of dismay while his hand reached around your back. You could feel his fingers work against his skin, and just seconds later your breasts bounced free. After all, if Sam had acquired a skill, he was good at it. “Pretty, pretty wife,” he whispered against your lips, tugging on the lower one gently. “Fuck, I love you so much, baby. So, so much,” he murmured. You giggled into the silence of the night, but the sound quickly shifted into one of a moan as the blond’s lips wrapped around a perky nipple. You needed Sam; you needed him so, so badly. Your mind had been whirring for him all day, and now you could feel him; smell him, touch him. Usually, it was Sam’s patience running thin, but this time it was yours. You lifted your hips while your fingers wrapped around the base of the man’s heated up shaft, guiding the leaking tip to your drooling hole. It was like you froze Sam in place, his lips still wrapped around your nipple, but his tongue did no longer swirl around it. He was too busy moaning your name, the high-pitch in his voice only turning you on more. Fuck, he really tried to give you the reins tonight, but you were so wet already and your pretty sweet pussy was clenching around him already, as if it attempted to pull him in. He would have been an absolute monster if he didn’t oblige! He needed to, or he would go up the wall. “Saaam!” the whine was long and drawn out as he bucked upwards, his thribbin g dick gliding along your walls. And he had to swallow down the dryness ruling in his throat caused by that glorious sound, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down at the strained motion of his throat. He loved you. Shit, he loved you so, so much- and he simply couldn’t resist. His hips moved upwards, the stretch his length caused only making his eyes roll back. You always felt so perfect around him, and it never did not feel like a betrayal when he had to pull out of you. He could have stayed forever like this, buried to the hilt inside of your beautiful cunt. Yet your hips shifted upwards, and he could slowly feel the tightness wrapping around him so snugly vanishing. This time it was Sam who whined until he felt you slide down on him again. He had to keep himself from fucking into you whenever you lifted your hips, so his arms wrapped around your hips tightly. “That’s my girl,” he cooed, his head thrown back, just for him to crane it forward in an attempt to catch your bouncing breast. “Takin’ me so well again, aren’t you?” His words were already slurred; feeling you around him like this just always had him so incredibly pussy-whipped. He could hear the wetness of your pussy squelching around him in protest whenever you moved upwards, and your moans just mixed so beautifully with that sound. Sam knew he was big; he knew it was always a stretch for you and that it never was easy to take him, but you just fucking did. Fucking yourself on him the way you liked, looking like an absolute goddess as you were bouncing on his lap.

The greenish blue of his eyes was filled with admiration, neigh worship spreading out in the sea of them. And the way you looked down at him – eyes holding the same love for him he felt for you, freckles of lust having them glazed over. He could have cum from nothing but looking at you, yet your pretty pussy felt so incredibly good around him, too. He barely was able to breathe as the cocktail of emotion swirled around in his blood, a trail of drool leaving at least a trace of all these feelings on your chest. “That’s my girl, my good, good girl. Think you can- ah- think you can handle me a little faster?” The beg that was underlying in his words was obvious; Sam simply wasn’t ashamed to beg. His arms were still pressing you to his body as you rocked back and forth, your jaw slack when you felt his pierced tip bump into your sweet spot. And it felt so incredibly good around him, feeling you leak all over him, moaning out his name in a sense of pride, with so much need accompanying these pathetic little sounds. The more high-pitched they grew, the closer you were. Sam knew it- and he just couldn’t hold back anymore. His hips snapped upwards while you rocked yours, tearing that cry from you that never failed to make his world go black. He himself was teetering incredibly close to the edge; each clench around his shaft, each begging whine of his name, each brush of your hands along his neck, soon to be followed by your lips leaving reddening spots behind; it all pushed him closer. His thumb found your clit to rub sweet little circles on, his lower lip now bitten in an attempt to keep himself from filling you to the brim. Not yet, he told himself; he had that carnal need to make you cum first. “Sam! Babe! Oh, fuck!  I am going to- I need to-“ A sob escaped you before you could silence it by biting down on his shoulder, yet the whimper that left your husband only made the twists in your tongue tighten. The blond wasn’t able to produce words anymore, only your name left his wettened lips. A trace of drool ran down his chin, tongue lolling out as he licked down along your cleavage, thumb unwilling to come to a halt on the throbbing bundle of nerves. The whisper of your name, so full of…everything, simply was too much for you. The knot in your stomach snapped, making you shoot upwards and press into Sam, your thighs shaking as they wrapped around his tender hips. You were sobbing quietly while your orgasm rocked through your body like a storm tormenting the sea. You were barely even able to feel how tight you clenched around your husband, who struggled to aim his sloppy thrusts upwards. “Saham!” You cried when his tip bullied further into you, earning a groan in response. “Fuck- shit, so tight,” he yapped, only managing one last buck upwards before he himself came undone.

Only your name left his lips in tiny whimpers as ropes of cum painted your walls, his eyes halfway closed as he tried to overcome the wave of pleasure that seemed to take a never-ending hold on him. His hips were still giving tiny thrusts upwards, unable to hold still under the pressure of his orgasm. You were still sobbing against his neck as his hips finally halted, sloppy thrusts having milked everything out of him he had. And you were full – so fucking full of your husband’s cum that mixed with yours.

Your head tiredly dropped against Sam’s chest, shaky breath nothing but an effort to ground yourself. Sam wasn’t in much better shape; his body still quivered from the orgasm that had just wrecked through him. Still, that didn’t keep him from beginning to run his fingers through your hair, tiny little “I love you”s were sent your way as soon as he had been able to find the words. Sam kissed your head, giving himself permission to slowly drop back onto the sleeping bag that he had brought, his arms locked around you still.

The two of you lay there for a while, allowing the sounds of the night to wrap around you like a warm blanket, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms.

“Take me on dates more often?” “Fuck yes.”