#a rare bottom sam moment from me

[jayjay-thejet-plane]

He’s wearing the ‘psychic booty’ shorts i doodled yesterday😎

Pst, the full image is in chap 15 of my ao3 art archive linked in my pinned or you can check the replies🤫

[houdinicarpenter]

NSFW Alphabet | Sam Carpenter x Reader

a/n: i've seen so many people do this. @michiganstray did it for tara, so i promised i'd do it for sam 🫡 (you really need to share yours, nylah... please. don't make me look bad in front of my friends 😬)

──────── GIF is not mine

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sam’s very attentive to your well-being. She’ll always ask if you’re okay and double-check it with a “are you sure?” if/when you say yes. If you ask for something, she’ll get it for you. Otherwise, she stays caught up in the intimacy, wanting to stay close to you. She likes to cuddle, her vulnerability already cut loose long enough to keep her guard down, so cut-and-runs (or quickies) are rare. p.s. depending on how messy things get, she may prefer to take a shower after sex.

b = body part (favorite body part of theirs and of their partner’s)

Sam’s favorite body part(s) of her own are her arms, because she likes the way it feels when you run your hands up and down them, especially her upper arms. Their toned definition gives you direct contact to her muscles, which relaxes her when they’re caressed. On you, Sam’s favorite body part(s) are your eyes. The first thing she notices about someone is their eyes. They say the eyes are windows into the soul, and she takes that to heart. She loved to get lost in your eyes, as if she were meeting you for the first time and falling in love all over again.

c = cum (anything to do with cum basically)

Sam has a full understanding of what cum is and why it happens. Because of this, she doesn’t believe in the “ask for permission” trope that’s often interlaced in sex. If it happens, it happens. It can always be cleaned up.

d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Sam used to agree to have sex with random guys she met on the street, at bars, etc. just to distract herself from reality. These times hit its peak after she left her home at 18 and when she, Tara, and the Meeks-Martin twins first moved to New York. It was a coping mechanism, but she isn’t proud of it and actually has visible damage down there because of the severity some of those reckless sessions were.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Sam is very experienced and knows exactly what she’s doing. She has experienced sex in many different ways, both enjoyable and not enjoyable. However, this isn’t to say that she doesn’t get lost in the moment when she’s with you, someone who she truly loves and trusts. If this is the case, she runs on autopilot, not fully aware of what she does, how she moves, and how it's perceived.

f = favorite position

The standard position of top & bottom (or dominant & submissive) is what she’s most familiar with and most comfortable with; however, given the right place and time, she may take to other positions.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

For the most part, Sam is a serious, in-the-moment kind of person during sex. She doesn’t see sex as a daily routine thing or a mindless act of desire. It’s a mutual act of trust and romanticism. She became this way after she broke her toxic cycle of doing it as a distraction, and shortly after, she met Danny. And Danny showed her how it should be done and why. But she does have her playful moments, especially before things intensify, when she’s much more outgoing and likely to say and do some careless shit.

h = hair (how groomed are they?)

Mostly, if not fully, clean-shaven all the time.

i = intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment?)

Very. Like stated previously, Sam takes intimacy to heart. She gets lost in you, like she’ll never love you again.

j = jack off (masturbation)

Sam never masturbates, she never has. The idea of it has crossed her mind, but it never felt right to actually try it, even if it was just to experiment. However, it’s easy to tell if/when she’s struggling with her sex drive. She becomes restless and—if you look closely—you can see how she gets shaky.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sam has no known kinks.

l = location (favorite places to do it)

Sam isn’t big on publicizing her intimate relationship with you. Because of this, she prefers making out in a private, non-open-to-the-public area. Places like your apartment/house, the bedroom, on the sofa (when it’s just you two alone in the apartment/house) are all preferable to her. Public bathrooms, showers (even though it’s private), and in the car, don’t make her feel secure and private enough to let her guard down.

m = motivation (what turns them on?)

Kissing her neck and/or collar bone is a good instigator, but touch really stirs her sex drive. Squeezing her hips and/or thighs drives her crazy, and so much as grazing her pelvis—specifically the sensitive skin in between her hips—makes her go feral, though she’ll do her best to fight it.

n = no (something they won’t do; a turn off)

Anything with bondage, blindfolding, or of the captive/captee dynamics. Knife Play also makes her uncomfortable, given she’s still on edge with being so in-sync with her father aside from her survival instincts and bloodlust.

o = oral (preference in giving, receiving, skill, etc.)

Sam’s not a fan of oral sex. If you have a desire to do it, she’ll give it a shot for you, likely being the one to receive it rather than give it, but it might take some convincing.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual is more of Sam’s taste, considering she’s had many fast and rough sessions in her rebellious—dare I say, feral—years (pre-movie Scream V). Like said previously, she doesn’t see sex as a careless activity to do whenever. When she was with Richie, they did fast and rough often, so it reminds her a lot of him. Now it was rumored via Sam that it was difficult for him to get aroused—or “hard”—however, when he was stimulated enough, he wrecked Sam. She hates remembering those nights and how much of herself she gave him, so much so that she’s scared of even trying it hard and rough again. 

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies; how often, etc.)

Again, Sam doesn’t like quickies, even though she used to participate in them. Knowing what she knows now, they seem immature, like doing them are abusing the purpose of what sex is supposed to be.  (I know this is controversial, so if you have a problem with this, just skip over it please 🙏. This is my interpretation on Sam’s character.)

r = risk (are they down to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sam is definitely a risk-taker, but she never tries anything new without your permission first. Consent and respect is something Sam values the most in the sexual experience of a relationship. She is open to experimenting, so long as you both are on the same page.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long can they last?)

As one would expect, Sam’s got a high level of stamina. She’s willing to go as many rounds as you want, regardless of how tired she is. But you’re always able to tell when she’s wearing out because of how sloppy she’ll get. She won’t even realize it, but you do and if/when it gets that far, that’s when you’ll usually call it a night.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? If so, on their partners or themselves?)

Sam only owns one toy that she had been given from a bad influence a long time ago. She’s never used it on anyone, but she’s had other “partners” (that weren’t officially/legitimately hers) use it on her. She hasn’t “used” it since she met Richie, but she still keeps it as a reminder to what she never wants to go back to.

u = unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

As much as Sam appreciates the intimacy and traditional make-up of sex, she is up to date with how it has spiced up, and having said that, she can be a fox at times. She’s not afraid to tease you into getting aroused or wanting her to speed up the process, especially when leading/holding the upper hand (dominant position). She knows when enough’s enough though and will respect your boundaries however you make them.

v = volume (how loud are they? what sounds do they make? etc.)

Sam’s somewhere in between quiet and loud. She’ll start off quiet and will try to fight herself when it’s getting overwhelming and she wants to get louder, but she never gets so loud, to the point where she needs to be warned to keep it down.  Sam’s a big moaner—it is what it is. But she also sighs a lot and has a tendency to growl, especially when the ecstasy kicks in and she’s trying to bite back a loud, desperate moan when you hit a sweet spot, inside or out.

w = wild card (a random headcanon of them)

Forehead touching makes Sam soft, she loves it.

x = x-ray (what’s going on under their clothes?)

Sam’s pretty toned, as anyone could see by looking at her arms in a tank top. She’s not sharply cut so that every angle has her abs popping or thighs as tough as diamonds, but there’s no questioning her defined toning when you run your hands over her clothed or unclothed figure.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

On a scale of 1-100%, Sam’s sex drive is about 70%. For someone as private and hard-of-trusting as she is, she’s up for getting down. This isn’t to mistake her for being careless as to who she does it with or how quick her drive is to kick in. That 30% is on strict default, until you come into the picture. 

z = zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

Sam needs to calm down from the thrill before she’s able to fall asleep. What calms her the most after sex is holding you or you holding her and listening to your breathing or heartbeat. Knowing the moment of trust, security, and love hidden between the two of you is important and reassuring to her. Give or take, she’ll be asleep in 20-30 minutes after a session.

all my best!

- parker (HOUDINICARPENTER / BWS) 🖤

[gilverrwrites]

Castiel NSFW Headcanons

Pairing: Castiel / GN!Reader

Rating: M/18+

Please remember: to give yourself time to rest.

Warning: Very brief mention of non/dub-con. Cas is kinda pervy and I love that for him.

Wants to and will deliver the most excellent and diligent aftercare, but you have to be vocal and specific about it. Communication is good, tell him what you need, and he will do it, everytime.

Actually prefers receiving oral over giving. Don’t get it twisted, he thoroughly enjoys the effect it has on you, and will do it over and over for you, but it’s a sensory thing. There’s just so many particles, and molecules on his tongue, it can be overwhelming.

Incidentally like A++ when it comes to dirty talk. He doesn’t really have a filter so he will have no problem telling you what he likes, how he’s feeling. Will check on you aften.

Does that feel good? Do you enjoy when I touch you like this? You look so beautiful when you cum for me. I love the way you feel around me.

However, until/unless you teach him the slang terms and how to use them, he will refer to most body parts by their anatomical names.

Is a top, but is very open to experimentation. Is happy to and enjoys bottoming/being pegged.

A switch, with predominately dom tendances.

Taking charge comes easily to him, and he can be very impatient/intolerant of having his orders disobeyed. Bratty behavior can be fun for him, if you’re into that sort of thing, but prefers service subs who will do as told and do it well. But does not like to be the boss all the time. He likes it when you top him, especially for slow, sensual sex.  If you’re more experienced than him and can show him new positions or foreplay.

On the subject of positions, top 3: Face-off, cowgirl, and seashell.

Art by Emily Schiff-Slater

Will ask/scold you to keep your eyes open and look at him frequently. Really enjoys watching your expressions/reactions, particularly your eyes.

Doesn’t like to restrain you with ropes and the likes, but does like using his body and/or his grace to pin you down and have his way with you.

Let him hold you down, get nice and deep inside, then look up at him with glazed eyes and let out a whimper; he may just cum on the spot.

Can and will go for hours if you let him, stamina is not an issue for him.

Especially for cock-warming. On the rare occasion he has downtime, he will happily spend all day with you on his lap, cock inside you just idly chatting, examining and teasing you as you gradually get more wound up and needy for him.

His wings and the space around their base (in between the shoulder blades) are highly sensitive. Just the brush of your finger is enough to get him riled up.

You have to inform him that it’s found upon to discuss your sex life unprompted with other people. Unless that doesn’t bother you.

Dean: Where the hell were you man?!? We’ve been prayin’! Cas: I heard you. I was busy engaging in coitus with [name]. ____ Sam: Cas I’m trying to explain something here, what is so important on your phone? Cas: [name] has sent me a photograph of their [redacted], I am uncertain of the best way to respond.

Does not particularly like sexting, as he finds it hard to concisely convey his thoughts through text. BUT he does get a thrill out of seeing and having your nudes be so easily accessible and for his eyes only.

Seldom masturbates but does watch a lot of porn. It’s for “research” in “understanding humans”. Totally not for inspiration.

If you suggest making your own DIY porn, he will jump on it. There may be some technical teething issues, but he is determined not to let that stop you. Would film it from the nightstand of something, not POV as he still wants to get lost in the moment and not have to worry about filming you from just the right angle.

Secretly a voyeur. Prior to any sexual/romantic relationship he may have ‘accidentally’ popped up and caught a glimpse (or more) of you, or his other human acquaintances getting their rocks of (be they alone, or with other people). During any relationship he likes watching you touch yourself, sometimes he’ll ask you to let loose and do it however you like, sometimes he prefers a more guided approach. So, telling you, where to touch, how much pressure, if and when you can reach your climax.

And of course, frottage/thigh riding. Watching you grind on him, per instruction, until you cum makes him giddy.

Very much enjoys a good cream pie. Typically, he’s not really into (his own) cum, it’s sticky and messy. But he cannot deny the rush of pride he feels when he see’s his own cum seeping out of you.  

Is often commando, it just feels more freeing, and allows for easer access. Yes he could just use his angel mojo, but there’s something more fun and a little sordid about doing it himself, or better yet, having undress him.

Same goes for you. He prefers stripping you by hand. It allows him more time to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his, to tease all the points of you that he knows makes you squirm.

[beholdthebangs]

Perseverance

Sebastian x F!Reader

~ 18+ ~

Synopsis: Smut - You spend far too much time thinking about Sebastian only for him to keep you at arms length for months. Conversations always turn to arguments but one night, arguments turn into something entirely new.

Warnings: dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, semi-rough sex, praise, lowkey brat!reader, jealousy, arguing, smoking, drinking

A/n: I don’t have a good summary for this, I just wanted to write about Sebastian so I did ☺️

—————————————————————————

Waking up with the rise of the sun every day is certainly not a lifestyle everyone can get behind, but it’s the one you chose the day you left your corporate work life behind to take over your late grandfather’s farm. The days are often long, but you love the occasional short ones where your list of tasks is short enough to crawl into bed by sunset, body aching nonetheless, hoping that maybe the extra time spent resting will heal you this time. Because of your somewhat unique schedule, you frequently run into the same residents of Pelican Town. Alex often crosses paths with you on his morning run. Sometimes his grandmother, Evelyn, is in the town’s centre watering the flowerbeds as you hurry to Pierre’s to pick up seeds. Shane is often on his way to work and you greet him cheerfully in exchange for a tired grunt.

In turn, there are many people you hardly get the chance to see. You can never seem to track down Marnie for one reason or another. Sam is often so wrapped up in practicing his skateboarding tricks or rehearsals for his band that it’s difficult to get a sentence out of him. Gus is a rare sight, almost always locked away in his saloon which you sometimes pass longingly on busy days, wishing you could afford to slow things down for a moment but never having the luxury.

There’s also the night owl of the town: Sebastian. Tucked away in the mountains, typing away at the computer in the basement room he so frequently occupies, and you’d wondered if he ever left the confines of it. A short while into your time in Pelican Town, you finally get your answer.

The night had slipped away from you as you descended into the mines. You eventually throw in the towel and hurry out into the cool summer night breeze as the clock hits midnight, hoping to get just enough sleep to regain your energy tomorrow. As you hustle across the wooden bridge near the mine entrance, you notice a small glow from across the lake. Curiosity getting the better of you, you approach it slowly. Only a few feet away now, a shuffle is heard and a figure moves out from behind the thick trunk of a pine tree, a small yelp pulling from your throat. It twitches, moving quickly to look at you.

“Y/n?” it says. You recognize the raspy voice as Sebastian’s, the moon’s light finally helping you fill in the dark image before you.

“Sebastian, what are you doing out here?”

He holds up his cigarette between his two fingers before bringing it back to his lips, the cherry at the end lighting up orange and red, resembling that subtle glow that had pulled you in.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Yep,” he replies, taking his eyes off you and looking back out over the lake that sits before him.

“Do you get lectured a lot?” you wonder. He looks back, tilting his head in confusion. “You seem a little defensive.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. My mom isn’t particularly happy about it but she’s always telling me to get out of my room.” He gestures vaguely to the nature surrounding him. You let out a small laugh.

“I’ll let you get back to it.” He doesn’t answer, just nodding as he turns himself back to the lake, leaning against the trunk of the tree behind him. With that, you head back home, barely making it into bed before 2 am and getting your bare-minimum 4 hours of sleep for the night.

Since then, you’ve felt an urge to go back to the mines in the afternoons. While you’re nearing the bottom levels, you know that your motivation doesn’t lie with the desire of reaching whatever awaits you underground. Once the time passes 7 pm, you want to quit and head back home. You want to leave the mines and look across the lake for that glowing cherry of Sebastian’s cigarette. To have a conversation so barebones that it’s a stretch to consider it a conversation. For some reason, you spend far too much time going over all the things you could say to him only to have a surface-level chat each time you manage to catch him before scurrying off as soon as the silence is too thick to break through.

This goes on for months, until the end of winter. It’s the last time you’ll be able to go to the mines for a while as you anticipate a busy spring. Your finances are in a good position with the gems you’d found in the mines over the cold season, and you have the gold to invest in a few hundred seeds this time around. The time and energy it’ll take to tend to your crops means you’ll likely only be able to go to the mines on rainy days, in which you’d noticed Sebastian wouldn’t be hanging around at night like he usually was.

When you call it quits in the mines tonight, it’s just past 11 pm. You can’t help but smile seeing the smoke blowing over the lake as you leave the cave, restraining yourself just enough to not skip over. “Hey,” you say, drawing his attention and he glances over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he replies quickly.

You stand to his side, just out of sight as he’s turned away from you. With a hesitant look over his shoulder once again, you make eye contact. He shuffles awkwardly, turning his body toward you as if confused to why you’re still standing there, staring at him.

“Do you mind if I have some of that?” you ask, gesturing toward his cigarette when he doesn’t move.

“You want to slut off it?” he asks. Your eyes widen, lips pursed at his words. He rushes out, “It’s a saying—“ and clears his throat as if to cut himself off. “Sorry. Here.”

Sebastian holds out his hand, cigarette between his index and middle finger for you to grab. You take it carefully, praying to Yoba that you don’t look as dumb as you feel fumbling with it. You grip it between your thumb and index finger, holding it up to your mouth and taking a quick puff, eyes flickering from the tip up to his eyes. He stares at you instead of breaking any eye contact like he usually does, studying you. While the taste of overwhelmingly bitter smoke is obvious, the paper of the cigarette holds the slightest bit of mint and you wonder if this is what Sebastian’s mouth would taste like. You hold the smoke in for a moment then breathe it out, his face fuzzy for a moment as the smoke spreads between you before being carried away with the wind. It takes everything in you not to choke with the feeling in your lungs, but you manage. Sebastian’s eyes still on you, you hand the stick back.

“How was your Feast of the Winter Star?” you ask as he brings it back to his mouth. You can’t help but wonder, watching him, if he’s thinking about your lips lingering there just moments ago just as you had.

“Good.” He hesitates. “How was yours?”

“Good! Who was your secret gift giver?”

“Clint. He gave me obsidian. You?”

“Cool,” you nod, making a mental note at the lack of disdain in his voice and jumping to the conclusion that it was a good gift for him. “Alex was mine. He got me a gold bar.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, looking back over at the lake and shutting a part of himself off from you once again. “You don’t have enough of those yet? You’re in the mines every day.”

“Every bit helps,” you shrug.

“Where’d he get the money for that?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You must be close if he’s shelling out that much money on a gift for you.”

“Close is an overstatement.” He doesn’t seem to believe you, only taking a long drag in response. “You seem to really care about this,” you comment.

He scoffs. “Yep, it’s all I care about.”

“It’s just strange how you can hardly keep a conversation going, and now you’re asking me all these questions about Alex.”

“Maybe I don’t have an interest in holding up conversations,” he retorts. The way he says it cuts you deeper than you’d like to admit. You had subconsciously changed your routine to run into him, mind constantly running over your previous chats and future ones. To hear that he can’t relate to that at all, and in fact may even dread seeing you stroll over in the dark of the night, hurts.

“I thought you may take some enjoyment from it,” you mutter, looking to your shoes.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. He takes one last hit from his cigarette, then throws it in the patch of dirt at his feet, smothering it with his foot. “I’ll stop with the mixed signals, then. Goodnight, Y/n.” With that, he retreats back to his house, the remnants of smoke drifting off behind him as he exhales, leaving you with the smell of it as you watch him walk away in your peripheral.

Three weeks have gone by since that last conversation. If you’d thought Sebastian occupied too many of your thoughts before, it had gotten increasingly bad since. While you hadn’t seen him after that night, you would think of him when you saw Alex, Clint, or even gold. In fact, there wasn’t much that didn’t draw your attention to the darkened demeanor of the mysterious boy in the mountains. The switch in him hadn’t left you, and it continued to confuse and wound you no matter how long you thought about it.

The day of the flower dance finally arrives and as you shower, you think about what you might say to Sebastian. While it’s not his scene, you can be almost sure that he’ll be present regardless—if Abigail is forced to go, she’ll force Sebastian along with her. Part of you wonders if he would accept a request to dance with you, and you can’t help but laugh as you picture it. A man who couldn’t care less about talking to you certainly wouldn’t want to stare at you in a frilly dress and claim you as his partner, even if only for a minute.

After drying your hair and pulling on the formal dress all the girls wear for the occasion, you head south of your farm, through the shortcut into the woods. As you approach, classical music grows louder and you finally cross the bridge over to Pierre’s stand.

You begin greeting your neighbors, making rounds. You head the opposite direction of Sebastian, making eye contact over the back of Sam’s shoulder who seems to be going on about something that Sebastian is uninterested in. You take your time chatting with the others until, inevitably, you complete the loop with Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian.

“Hey guys!” you muster up your most energetic voice, waving as you approach their circle.

“Y/n! You look so good!” Abigail exclaims.

“You do too!”

Sam clears his throat obnoxiously, the others’ eyes drawn to him. “You look great too, Sam,” you add, throwing an over-exaggerated wink his way.

“At least someone noticed,” he grins.

You finally turn your attention to Sebastian. “How are you?” you offer, in large part because you miss the frivolous pleasantries you used to exchange, but also because Sam and Abigail would be rather suspicious if you said nothing in his direction.

“Good,” he responds rather roughly.

You look at him for a few seconds as he refuses to meet your gaze. You take full opportunity to scan over him in his blue suit. Though he wears an outfit identical to Sam’s, his tall stature and dark tattoos peaking from his neckline and sleeves give it a much different vibe. You force yourself away, taking a quick breath in and turning to the other two. “Well, I should get going. Enjoy the dance!” Abigail and Sam mutter their goodbyes as they glance between you and their friend, and you don’t bother looking back at Sebastian as you walk away.

You’d originally planned to sit this dance out like you had last year, but the way Sebastian refused to acknowledge you has caused something within you to break. You had toiled over your last conversation for cumulative hours each day and for him to not even bother asking you how you are? Even just for appearances’ sake?

Your gaze is set on Alex and your feet are carrying you toward him before you can register the decision. He smiles at you as you get closer, pulling his attention from Haley who circles the field as if stretching her body for the dance. “Hey Y/n, looking good.”

“Hey Alex,” you sigh as you stop a foot in front of him. “Will you dance with me?”

His eyes widen, flickering between you and Haley. She doesn’t seem to notice what’s going on, and Alex chews on his bottom lip as he debates his options. After a few seconds, he gives in. “Yeah, sure. That would be fun, thanks Y/n.”

You smile, nodding as if to confirm to yourself his answer before leaving to give Lewis the go-ahead.

The young men line up in the middle of the field, their counterparts facing them a few feet apart as music begins to play. It’s your second flower dance, but your first time participating. Being so new to the valley last year made it difficult to find a partner and you’d decided to sit it out and watch in hopes you could participate in the future. Now, you’re racking your brain to recall the steps.

Though you fall slightly out of sync with the girls who have done this dance for years, you manage to keep up, letting out quiet giggles with Alex whose expression is filled with amusement as he watches you. Sam stands next to him, Sebastian at the end, and you can’t help but steal a couple glances during the course of the song. He looks substantially less happy than the two boys closer to you, and you can’t help but wonder if the reason is more complex than his distaste for the festival.

As the music ends, Alex closes the gap and holds your arm for a moment. “You did great!”

“Thanks for being my partner,” you respond, smiling graciously.

“Any time.” He lowers his voice, leaning closer to your ear. “Haley’s great, but she takes this stuff really seriously. It was nice to just have some fun with it.”

The crowd disperses shortly after with the main event concluding. Sebastian, with Abigail and Sam on his heels, leads the charge as he practically storms away from the open field and back toward the town. You spend a few minutes mingling before heading back to your farm for the night.

Two days later, you find yourself nearing the end of a long week and in desperate need of food and alcohol. You sit at the bartop of the saloon, having finished a plate of crab cakes and your second beer of the night when Sam enters. He greets you as he passes, heading toward the pool table in the other room.

Your eyes are trained on his back, weighing your options for the rest of the night. You could either head back home and toss and turn in bed, or you could take this opportunity to bond and have some fun. You pause for just a moment before rising to your feet, hurrying after Sam. He’s already setting up a game when you enter. “When does your partner arrive?” you ask.

“Seb?” Sam checks his watch. “Hopefully within the next half hour. He’s not the most punctual.”

“Want to play a round?” you ask, gesturing to the table.

He seems taken aback, but quickly agrees. “That sounds fun. You want to break?” Sam offers up a cue and you take it, crossing the distance to the other side of the table. It had been a while since you’d played, so you had no strategy, but having seen Sam play against Sebastian for the past year, it seemed like it could be a fair fight.

You lean over, positioning the pool cue over your fingers and hit the cue ball hard. As it strikes the others, they fly across the table. You pocket a couple solids in the motion and you grin as you watch them roll in, happy to have had some luck. Sam groans as he leans against the wall behind him, cue vertical in his hands, resting on the floor between his feet.

You manage to sink another ball before missing the pocket, and Sam takes over. He pockets one as you’d accidentally left the perfect setup, but he fails to get anything more. As you work to line up your next shot, you hear him yell out a greeting. Glancing up, Sebastian has just entered. He quirks his head up curtly at Sam in response but his movements stutter as his eyes scan over to you. Before you can muster up any words, he looks away and takes a spot on the couch, eyes trained on his phone screen.

“Y/n and I are just playing a quick round,” Sam explains. “You don’t mind, right?” Sebastian grunts in response as if to dismiss him. Sam chuckles to himself.

You attempt to focus back on your shot, feeling an extra pressure with Sebastian here. Not only is he good at pool, but you have a desire to impress him. You take a deep breath while leaned over the table before pulling back and sinking your fourth solid.

“Killing me,” Sam mutters and you laugh. Sneaking a peak to the couch on your right, Sebastian has his gaze trained on the table. You locate your next shot on the left side and lean down facing the moody man, biting your lip as you try to position the pool cue perfectly. The shot is good, but your next one isn’t hard enough to sink the ball, though it’s in the perfect position only a few inches from the corner pocket.

Sam manages to hit a couple, celebrating loudly after each. When your turn comes back around, you have to circle the table to face the corner, your back to Sebastian. It gives you some comfort to know his view is blocked and if you miss the softball of a shot you’re about to take, he won’t be able to see it as clearly. You lean over, trying to ignore the weird expressions shooting across Sam’s face directed behind you, and pocket it.

One more lucky hit later, you call your shot for the 8-ball and, likely much to Sebastian’s relief as he’s stuck spectating, win the game. You cheer, waving the pool cue in the air as you jump excitedly. Sam congratulates you begrudgingly, crossing his arms.

“All yours, Seb,” you announce, laying the stick down on the table with a look of pride still clear on your face. You turn to look at the man on the couch as he fidgets.

Rising to his feet, he stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m going to have a smoke, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll go with,” you say. Unsurprisingly, your self invite doesn’t excite him l but you don’t let it stop you.

You follow his lead through the crowded saloon and out the door. The sun has set and you realize just how warm it was inside, feeling your skin tighten in response to the chill in the air despite being just around the corner from summer.

Sebastian pulls a cigarette out, putting one end in his mouth and flicking the lighter, holding it to the other end. He shields the flame from the wind, the motion reflecting the light of the flame to his face moreso than before. Once it ignites, he stuffs the lighter back in his jeans pocket and buries his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, seemingly feeling the effects of the cold air as well.

You pull the thin fabric of your long sleeve shirt further over your hands, crossing your arms around the bottom of your ribcage in an attempt to combat the cold. Sebastian blows out a puff of smoke, finally looking over at you. His eyes flicker down, almost as if to look at your chest, but they meet your eye before the motion can register. “You seem cold.” You realize the indents of your now-hardened nipples are prevalent in your top and you move your arms further up, trying to brush it off as a natural response.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “We don’t need to talk, since you hate it so much.”

“Then why follow me out here?” he interrogates.

“Crowded in there,” you answer with a shrug. He clearly doesn’t believe you, but you add nothing else in your defense. Silence stretches on, and you fight back all the things you’d been dying to say to him since the end of winter. To your surprise, his voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Looked good with Alex the other day.” You don’t reply. “Make it official yet?”

“Make what official?”

“You two,” he says, pointing between you and the Mullner household just around the corner from the saloon.

“There’s nothing to make official.”

“Got rejected?”

“No,” you snap. “Nothing to reject, either.” He says nothing. “What is it with him?”

“You tell me.”

“Really, Sebastian. You get so weird about Alex. Are you jealous of him or something?” He scoffs, taking another deep drag from his cigarette.

You study him from the corner of your eye. He’s shutting down, not about to give you any real answer and there’s nothing you can do about it but go about the next few days or weeks until your paths cross and you corner him into a conversation. Before you can think too much about it, you reach over and grab the cigarette from his mouth, putting it between your own lips and sucking in dark smoke.

After exhaling, you hold it between you to offer it back. When Sebastian doesn’t take it, you finally look over and his mouth is hanging open slightly, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn’t necessarily look pissed. A moment of silence passes and you groan, taking the initiative to place the cig back between his lips. He closes around it, taking a small puff before pulling it back out and holding it between his index and middle finger, still waiting for some sort of explanation.

“I don’t know what your deal is with Alex.”

“You want to know what my deal is?” he challenges.

“Yes! Dear Yoba, yes!” you exclaim.

He turns to look at you, his torso still pressed against the exterior wall. “I hate the things Alex has. I hate that he has them, and that I don’t.”

“What does he have? Muscles?”

“I have muscles,” Sebastian retorts. You raise an eyebrow skeptically, lips twisted in a half-smile. “But no. He has money to buy you fancy gifts and people that really care about him. He has the boldness to talk to you whenever he wants, however he wants, and he has the charisma to make you like it.”

“I’d argue that you do that, too.” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You give me the silent treatment for days at a time. I have to grovel with you to have a conversation, and I have to adjust my schedule to catch you outside your room, away from your work. You bitch at me for whatever’s got you in a mood that day and I take it and I sit with it until the next time I get to talk to you. You tell me you have no interest in talking to me and I spend so much time wondering how to change that. So yeah, I think you get away with a lot more than he does.”

“That’s because you’re annoyingly outgoing, not because you care any more about me than you do anyone else.”

“That’s not true,” you snap. “You’d know that if you’d bother to ask, or even just think critically for a few seconds.”

“You’d know that I don’t hate talking to you most of the time if you did the same.”

“You told me you don’t care to talk to me. You want me to ask clarifying questions after that?”

“What more do you need from me? I’m not going to get on my knees and beg you for your time,” Sebastian sneers.

“Do you think that’s what I’m asking for?”

He shrugs. “I let you hit my cigarettes, I don’t actively avoid you… what more is there?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you fein confusion. “Telling me how you feel instead of —apparently— lying to me? Even just talking to me like a normal person once in a while? ‘Hey Y/n.’ ‘How are you, Y/n?’ ‘You look good today, Y/n.’”

“You do look good today,” Sebastian mumbles begrudgingly, taking another puff of his cigarette.

“And you look good every fucking day! But I never get the chance to tell you because you ignore me or you bring up Alex and talk about how annoyed you are that he pays me even a shred of attention.”

“Because it’s annoying that he does that.”

“So you want me to do what exactly? Rely on you to give me any and all conversation? I’ll go stir crazy if I only speak to someone twice a month while twisting their arm to do so.”

“I’d be happy to talk to you more if you stop bringing him up,” Sebastian snips at you. “Until you get over him, I don’t see that happening.”

You glare at the tall, brooding man. “I’m not under him.”

“As much as you wish you were,” he says under his breath. It’s not quiet enough, the valley’s silence after sunset too encapsulating for him to get away with his dig.

“If I wanted to be, I would.”

Sebastian hums around his cigarette. “So what’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think about Alex the same way I think about you. Alex is a friend and that’s all I want him to be.”

His fidgeting come to a halt for a moment, turning to face you. “Then how do you think about me?” His voice is low, speaking barely above a whisper.

You match him, your body pointed in his direction. “I think about you all the time. When I wake up, when I’m in the mines, when I go home. When I get into bed…”

Sebastian steps closer, only a few inches from you now. “Mhmm… and what do you do when you think about me?”

You look up at him through your eyelashes. The way he phrases his words implores you to open up to him and bare it all. Maybe it’s liquid courage or the adrenaline of raising your voice or finally speaking your mind. “It depends.”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes I scream into a pillow at how frustrating you are.” Sebastian cracks a smile. “Sometimes I scream into a pillow at the thought of how good you could make me feel.”

“You think about it too, hmm?” he says, free hand moving up to place his fingers under your chin, keeping your gaze locked on him. Despite the cool spring breeze, your cheeks are red with heat.

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your fingers grab at the front of his hoodie, lacing with the fabric to bring him closer to you. The scent of cigarette smoke grows stronger, but so does the remnants of his spearmint gum. The two work together to create something that feels intoxicating to you, and all you want is to finally taste it.

Sebastian must notice how your eyes are trained on his soft lips. He puts his hands on either side of your face, cigarette still barely tucked between his left fingers, and pulls you to him, ducking down to close the gap your heights leave. Your lips touch, and you let out a small breath of relief, of desire. It spurs him on, right hand moving to the small of your back and pressing you to him as if no space between your bodies is still too much space. Your arms wrap around his neck, keeping him at your level. When his tongue swipes across your bottom lip, you don’t hesitate to allow him entrance, basking in his taste as your tongues meet.

“Think we should leave,” he mumbles between kisses, not making any move to let you go.

You nod against him.

“Gotta tell Sam.”

“Tell him what?” you whine, breathless.

“So much,” Sebastian groans. “But,” he finally pulls away, keeping you in his arms but standing straight so he falls just out of reach, your arms shifting down around his waist. “I gotta tell him I’m leaving.”

Before you can object, he slips out of your grasp, stomping on his cigarette butt and heading inside, leaving you to catch your breath as you lean against the brick siding of the saloon. Maybe thirty seconds later, he’s back out with Sam at his heels who watches you two in disbelief.

“Have fun, you crazy kids!” the blonde calls out as Sebastian wraps his arm around your waist and steers you toward your farm.

You walk in silence, the side of your body pressed to his. You can’t think of anything to interrupt the noise of chirping crickets around you, and certainly nothing to build the tension between you that doesn’t feel embarrassing to say out loud even in the darkness of the dirt walk home. “Second thoughts?” you finally ask as minutes elapse with nothing exchanged between the two of you.

“Fuck no,” Sebastian snarls. “Trying not to look at you or think about you… I want to last long enough to at least make it inside.”

You giggle, pulling him closer and slipping your fingers under his hoodie, nails pressed into his side.

After unlocking your farmhouse, he steps in and immediately spins you against the barely-closed front door. His lips are on yours for a moment before moving down your jaw to your neck, nimble fingers scrambling to tug your shirt past your stomach. He takes a moment to feel your delicate skin, running along your ribcage and the bottoms of your breasts before parting to pull your shirt over your head. “Bold move skipping a bra in this weather.” He stands back, admiring your exposed chest, nipples still hard from the cool air and the arousal he’s provided you in the last few minutes.

“Your turn,” you prompt, moving closer to tug at his hoodie. He pulls it off in one swift motion, and you help take off his t-shirt. He hadn’t lied when he said he had muscles—Robin must put him to work once in a while. His torso is lean, stomach harder to the touch than you’d imagined. The black-inked tattoos that lie hidden on his chest accentuate the divots formed by labor. His arms are understated, but as he reaches forward to grab you, the motion brings out a defined strain below his skin. Sebastian pulls you to him with ease, connecting your lips as your warmed skin meets. The way he writhes against you, uses his whole torso to break your kisses, creates friction that electrifies you, stemming from your sensitive nipples. You moan against his mouth, and his hands quickly wander to your ass, feeling it while he pulls you closer, finally achieving the perfect angle to thrust his clothed length against your core.

“Seb,” you cry, fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his head.

“C’mere, princess,” he mumbles, hands fastening tightly under your ass as he pushes you up against the door, pulling your thighs around his waist and settling you around him. Once he secures you, he moves you to your bed, setting you on your back with his thighs holding your legs up around him. He grinds into you as his tongue slips back between your lips, meeting your own.

Your hands feel down his chest, down his stomach, using the dark hair forming a line from his belly button down to his jeans to find the button before fumbling with it. “So greedy,” Sebastian comments, slowing his movements to allow you easier work.

“I want you so bad,” you groan. Even if he was inside of you in the next second, it would still be far too long of a wait.

Seb steps onto the cold wooden floor of your bedroom to finish pulling off his black skinny jeans, kicking them away as they pool around his ankles. He uses the opportunity to tug off your own jeans, smiling as he eyes your black panties with a tiny bow placed in the middle of the waistband just below your belly button. “Were you expecting me, baby?”

“Just hoping,” you admit, happy to find him content with your underwear choice.

He pats your hip. “Turn around, let me see the back.”

You follow his instructions, flipping over with your elbows rested on your pillows, arching your back as you allow him to see your ass in your black panties, pulled tight to the curves of it. Seb groans, placing a hand tightly on the flesh before slapping it harshly, making you jump. “So cute,” he purrs.

His hand slides down, thumb pressing against your core to feel the dampness gathering between your legs through the thin fabric. “Do you get this wet every time you think about me at night?”

You shake your head. “Reality is much better than my imagination.”

“I’m glad, princess, but I haven’t even gotten started with you.” Pulling his hand back, he prompts you to sit up, legs on either side of him as he stands next to your bed. He carefully slides his fingers under your panties, pulling them off as you hold your hips up to help him, arms stretched out behind you. “So beautiful,” he sighs to himself as he takes in your naked body stretched out before him, legs still parted and allowing him full view of your pussy.

“I wanna see you too,” you tell him, reaching forward to his black boxers. The bulge in the fabric of them is apparent, stretching down a decent portion of his thigh.

“Take ‘em off then,” Seb grins, giving you permission to strip him of the last of his clothing. You take your time, slowly revealing his length until all that’s left is the tip. With one final pull, his cock springs out, hot pink tip extended toward you. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you take it all in, the knot in your stomach tightening. The lack of friction between your legs is growing increasingly irritating, and your thighs close together in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the ache. “What do you think?” If you hadn’t been looking at one of the most appealing dicks you’d ever seen before, you might think he sounded nervous.

“So fucking hot.”

Sebastian smirks. “All big for you.”

He sits at the head of the bed, propped up by pillows. Patting his chest, he motions for you to lay between his legs. You do so slowly, feeling him press into the small of your back and a groan escapes his throat, bucking his hips involuntarily as you settle against him. Seb pulls your hair behind your back, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck and soothing it over with his tongue. His left hand sneaks around to play with your nipple while his right slowly travels down your stomach, stroking your inner thighs as he sucks bruises into your delicate skin. You arch your back against him, reaching a hand into his hair and tugging at it as he toys with your breasts.

“Sebbb,” you cry, pressing your thighs together as if trying to slide his hand up to your heat.

He lets out a guttural chuckle, loud against your ear. The sound shoots directly down to your core. “Use your words, baby.”

“Touch me, please.”

“Where?”

“Here!” you whimper, removing your hand from his hair and reaching to your dripping cunt.

“Mm-mmm,” he scolds, shaking his head. “Words, princess.” His hand releases your nipple, gripping your wrist tightly to stop you from touching yourself.

“You’re just as exasperating in bed as you are outside of it.”

“I know. You’re surprised?” he asks, feigning shock.

You wiggle, trying to get your hand free from his tight grasp. Giving up, you reach down with your other hand, but he uses the one on your thigh to block you. “Words,” he barks, low in your ear, nipping at the tender spot he just sucked into your neck and refraining from taking away the sting with his mouth. “Do you think I’m joking? Do you think I won’t leave right now to get rope to tie you up with?” You lean into him, giving up the fight. “All you have to do is tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Not that hard, princess.”

“Touch my pussy,” you finally plead. And Sebastian is true to his word; he releases your wrists and snakes his fingers down, dipping his middle finger into your cunt knuckle-deep, collecting your wetness and spreading it up to your clit. Even that motion after all the teasing is enough to elicit a moan, and this spurs on the man to slide his finger easily inside you, thumb rubbing tight circles on your sensitive bud as he thrusts.

“Ready for another?” he asks, to which you squeak out a confirmation. He tucks his ring finger inside, joining his middle, fucking in and out of you as you clench around him. “So wet,” Seb mumbles, leaning to latch onto the other side of your neck with his lips. His other hand returns to your breasts, pinching at your nipples as you lean into him. “Can you take one more?”

“Yes,” you answer, moving your hips in time with his fingers. He adds his index into you, stretching out your hole in preparation for his thick cock. The tips tilt upward, rubbing against the spongy spot inside you. You buck your hips involuntarily, feeling him so deep inside you. While Sebastian’s fingers are long, his cock is nearly twice the length and you quiver at the thought of it inside you. His length twitches, poking against your back as if to remind you of what’s to come.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” he asks. “Wanna be inside you so bad. You feel so tight on my fingers.”

“I’m ready, Seb.”

He pulls out, leaving your cunt feeling incredibly empty. “On your knees, sweetheart. Wanna watch you fuck yourself on my cock right now.”

You bring your legs into your body, tucking your knees below you and spreading them to stabilize yourself on either side of Sebastian. You watch him stroke himself beneath your pussy, hovering over and waiting for him to position his length. He drags his tip from your clit to your hole, spreading his precum mixed with your slick along his length. Once his strokes sound wet and dirty below you, he pokes his tip at your entrance and you tighten at the anticipation. Sebastian reaches around your hip with his other hand to rub your clit as you begin to sit, taking him in slowly.

While he’s making you feel so good, you can tell that he’s distracted now, eyes trained at his groin as he watches himself disappear inside you. When his tip is fully tucked inside, he groans, letting go of his cock and squeezing the fat of your ass, spreading it aside to better see his cock entering you. “So fucking sexy,” he praises. “Such a good girl.”

With his thick tip inside, the rest of his cock is easier to manage though the length building inside you is intense as the backs of your thighs finally meet his hips. You let out the breath you’d been holding, finally feeling his entirety buried inside your cunt. Seb grabs at your hips, holding you down on him as he grinds into you, his tip poking your insides in such a way that you have to grip onto the sheets in front of you for dear life.

He breaks the silence, finally letting out his own deep breath. “Y/n, holy fucking shit.”

“Mm-hmm,” you agree, unable to manage any real words yet.

“Dear Yoba, please,” he whines, “please.”

“Please what?” you inquire, smirking to yourself.

His palm meets your ass with a swift smack. “Don’t be a brat.”

“Use your words,” you tease mockingly.

Sebastian easily lifts your hips, nearly pulling you all the way off his cock before pulling them back down abruptly and you fight off a yelp, coming out instead as a pornographic moan. “Don’t be a brat,” he repeats, emphasizing each word with quick shallow thrusts. You take over, moving yourself up and down his length as he watches, clingy fingers digging into your ass and prodding at your hole sliding along his cock, wetness dripping out as he fills up all the space in your cunt with each thrust.

You roll your hips as you bounce on top of Sebastian, positioning him to hit your g-spot each time you sink down. You squeeze your breasts and rub at your clit as you fuck yourself, head rolling back. Seb reaches up, gripping onto your hair cascading down your body to keep you in place, back arched as his hips meet yours. They roam you with abandon, taking the opportunity to grope you in all the ways the man can think of. As your moans get louder, he attempts to take more control until he finally pulls you off him.

He presses a firm hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to your elbows. As he kneels behind you, his cock begs entrance to your soaked pussy and he pushes in with ease. Though you’d gotten used to his girth, even a few seconds of emptiness had nearly reset you and you have to readjust to him. He barely gives you enough time before picking up the pace and burying your face into the blankets below you. You tilt your head to the side, cheek pressed harshly onto the bed as you admire Seb fucking you from behind.

His dark hair is pushed back, revealing most of his face for a change. The studs in his ears reflect the moonlight filtering in through the window near the bed, muscles glistening similarly in sweat. His face is twisted in concentration and pleasure, focused on keeping up the rapid thrusting of his hips and pleasuring you while holding back his own orgasm. You suck in a breath, biting on your lip as you take in the beautiful man bringing you closer and closer to the edge, his fingers leaving bruises on your hips.

Seb notices you staring and he can’t fight back the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. “Hi baby,” he purrs, giving your lower back a soft stroke. “Feel good?”

“Yeah-h,” you manage.

“Me too, so fucking good. Fucking tight and wet, all for me, yeah?”

You nod fervently. “All for you. Y’r cock s’fucking big.”

“Taking it so good.” Sebastian’s thrusts have slowed into harsh, deep ones that fill you entirely. You grip the blankets in your fists, knuckles turning white. “Getting close?” You nod again, pathetically, starting to melt into him. All you can think of is the pleasure he’s giving you and you’ll do anything to feel it and ride out your orgasm with it.

“G’nna cum f’r me?” he asks again, leaning down to rub harshly at your clit. “Cum all over mm’ cock?”

“Yes, Seb!” you cry.

“Wanna feel you soak me, princess,” he commands, lips sprinkling wet kisses along your spine. “Pussy g’nna be so filled with our cum soon, yeah? ‘M gonna watch it drip out, kay?”

The knot growing in your stomach since the moment he kissed you reaches its height and you feel it snap all at once, a moment of serenity before your orgasm floods over you. You arch your back and let out strangled cries, letting all the words in your brain come tumbling out from your lips in a slurred mess. “Sebbyyy!” you groan as his fingers press into your hips tighter. “Y’make me feel s’fucking good, fuck! Please fill me Sebby.”

He groans, leaning further down against your back as he releases, whimpering mixes of your name and sweet pet names as he unloads into your cunt. His grunts turn to moans and whimpers in your ear as he finishes, hips gradually coming to a stop as you both come down from your highs. “Holy fuck,” he finally sighs, his body weight fully on you now.

“Fuck,” you sniffle, breathing labored.

You two lie on the bed for a minute, only focused on catching your breath as your sweaty bodies stick to one another. You can feel Sebastian’s dick slowly shrink inside you, blood flow directing back to his brain. Finally, he carefully peels himself away, pulling himself out of you. Seb ushers you back up on your knees, earning a groan but reluctant compliance. He sits back and admires the mess left on his cock, admires it dripping out of your used pussy. He uses two fingers to swipe the wet, then reaches around and rests it against your bottom lip. “Have a taste, hmm?”

You open your mouth and he wastes no time resting his fingers against your tongue. Your lips close around him, sucking the mix of your cum from him and humming at the sweet and saltiness. It tastes like pure desire and dirtiness, a final reminder of your time together as his half-hard length rests against your ass before he pulls away.

Your legs shaky, you finally roll over and collapse on your back, Seb following your lead and lying next to you. “Second thoughts?” he asks, looking over at you.

“Fuck no,” you grin. “You?”

“Fuck no.” He wraps a lazy arm around you. “If I could, I’d do it again right now.”

You nod, turning to nuzzle your face against the side of his neck as your eyelids flutter closed. “Staying?” you mumble.

“Have to go home,” Seb groans. “You need your sleep and I don’t think I can accommodate that for very long.” You wrap your arms around him in protest, but he easily breaks through as he sits up, looking down at your spent, naked body. “I think I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah?”

You smile, gathering the willpower to gaze up at him. One side of his face is covered in the shadows, but the other is illuminated by the moonlight sneaking through the window and you wish you could stay in this moment a little longer and just look at him. The sharp bones over his eyes and along his jaw, toned arms holding himself up, scattered hairs along his torso pointing to the object of your desire as it drapes over his inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you belatedly agree.

“Call me in the morning. Let me know if you need any help covering this up.” Seb reaches down and gently strokes a tender spot on your neck, realizing it must be bruising from the force of his teeth and lips earlier. “I can probably ask Abi for some advice.”

Sebastian begins picking up piles of clothing from the floor, pulling on his boxers, jeans, and hoodie before sliding his sneakers back on. Holding a dark black t-shirt in his hand, he offers it to you. “Put this on so you don’t freeze tonight.” You take it gingerly. Leaning down to pepper your lips with soft kisses, Seb finally makes his exit with a quiet goodbye and you drift to sleep, surrounded by his scent.

[wandagcre]

if ure comfy can u do a one shot or imagine of dom reader and intersex sam ; reader jerks sam off over her own abs (sams) and then licks it off

messy | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sub!Sam Carpenter x Dom! AFAB! Reader)

The party was set on the backyard but you decide to have your own with Sam.

WARNING: sam has a penis, dom afab reader, handjob, cum licking, tease of edging, ball stimulation +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 1.3k Note: first sub!sam entry yayy <3

Sam was an eye candy with her swimsuit bra and her dark shorts. You couldn't stop staring at her when she came out in this attire and you can't help but make an advance; applying the sunscreen on her exposed body and relishing how she got tense with your touch. Of course, you wouldn't have done it without being handsy – wanting her hard enough later on.

While everyone either had their stomach full of the various meals they just munched on or was starting to get drunk, you and Sam kept it light. She caught up with you after the sunscreen moment, how you keep on brushing your back to her front, any sort of skin against her. It didn't help that you looked ravishing to your own swimsuit attire that Sam's cock embarrassingly twitched upon first seeing you.

Now Sam's dealing with a problem that she can no longer hide. She held you by the wrist and whisked you away to the kitchen so she can confront you away from the spectating eyes and ears.

"What're you doing?" she questioned you.

You feign an innocent look. "I was about to grab a drink–"

"No, you're teasing me this whole day! And now it's starting to hurt."

"Okay." You laid your hand on her chest, finally taking pity on Sam. "Buckle up, baby."

"Are you–shit, (y/n) we could get caught!"

You ignore her whisper-yelling. Having sam trapped to the counter with your arms surrounded to either of her side - one of your hands already on a mission, snaked its way to cup Sam's length roughly through her shorts.

"If we get caught, it's going to be because of you, so tone it down." You sternly remind her, slowly resuming to your motions. Sam felt her knees grow weak and sharply inhaled, finding a small relief at your stroking. "What would you like to do first? Want my lips around your needy cock?"

Sam nodded deliberately, gauging of what your desired answer would be. She's afraid of exploding without your permission and your words weren't helping her case by the slightest.

It gave her an image of you trying to take all of her until your mouth was stuffed of her cock and served as a warming place. Your saliva lubricating her and maybe heightening the sensation with your teeth grazing at what your mouth can reach, up to the bottom of her protruding cock head.

She had a growing bulge by now, worse than an hour ago. But here you were, with a devious smile, having a field day with riling her up.

"You're not using your words. Maybe we'll do it later, if you're good." You tease her further, making Sam clench her fists on the side. "Maybe you won't even cum at all."

You kept rubbing her outline of her cock, feeling how it was pulsating and growing – wanting to be freed from its confinement. She was still wet from swimming earlier but that doesn't stop you. Your hands descend, still not underneath, instead you seized her balls and fondled them. The pair was becoming heavy upon your harsh touch, Sam grew hot and a particularly loud whine escaped her lips.

"What did I tell you?"

Sam squeaked and was getting harder by the second and your strokes were becoming firmer and aggressive, she was hooked and wrapped around your mercy.

"No, no, no." Sam weakly protests, head shaking in disagreement.

You raise an eyebrow. Was Sam close to acting bratty? It was rare that she does so. "No what?"

Your fingertips were getting heavily involved, determine to somewhat cup her girth and with the soft texture of Sam's shorts – it was gentle and a perfect contrast to your movements, providing a hell of a pleasure on her end.

It was like you're determined to make her blow without fully stroking her naked length. However, Sam was familiar with your tactics, she knew better that this was a test.

She arched her head back, releasing puffs of breath and tries not to make loud noises.

Gruffly, she clarified, "M-hmm 'kay, anything... what f-fits for me best, I'll t-take it!" Sam uttered with conviction that it inevitably brought a smile on your lips – you're so proud of her.

You coo her, almost caving in. "Shh. It's alright. We'll get there."

Sam looked to be in excruciating pain. A pleasurable one, but it doesn't stop her from the silent cries. She's intensely throbbing and aching for you and your teasing ways. She's hungry for you approval and you're hungry for her to lose her cool.

Admittedly, you also had enough. It was hard to pretend unaffected with Sam's wet look when she jumped on the pool, how drops of water that flowed delicately on her toned muscles only made her even more attractive to your eyes.

Without warning, you immediately freed her from its restraints, pulling the shorts down and reached for her cock – both of you trying to stifle a moan at the welcomed contact. Fucking finally, Sam thought. Warm and naked. This was definitely heaven for her.

Sam's cock sprung hard and was angry red. It didn't take long for her cock to fully become erect, given your relentless strokes – from the base and her shaft. Each pump of your hand was firm and rough, you really tried to cover the entire girth.

But Sam? She was really massive. The veins were becoming prominent as well, proving the thirst it was craving for. Her precum was oozing at the tip and with you meeting the head with a brush of your thumb per pump on her length, it was getting harder for sam to conceal her moans of appreciation.

You almost wanted Sam to ram you with her cock. It was undeniably a mouthwatering sight.

"(y/n)- oh god," Sam was getting sensitive. Her mouth parted and head now hung on your shoulder for support.

"Now be quiet, baby. I'm going to stop if you're loud."

Sam's eyebrows contorted, you see her fighting through it. She takes it upon her, hand covering her own mouth to muffle the erotic sounds brewing in the kitchen.

You feel her cock pulsate harder. It made you squirm, wetness surely ruining your own in panties and it motivated you to stroke better and faster than ever. You didn't hesitate to get on your knees now, wanting to get a better feel and angle of it. The tightening of your fist around her shaft, paired with twisting, made Sam quiver and roll her eyes.

"You can cum for me, Sammy."

It did the trick because soon enough, Sam had her jaw clenched, huffing beside you and with her twitching cock you settle some distance for her to release her load on her sculpted abdomen. Not only her cock veins were bulging, but along the expanse of her neck as well, all from the pressure steaming off her.

"Goodness... gonna c-cum now!"

Sam took her sweet time with catching her breath. Meanwhile, her cock continued twitching and she groaned as you milked all of her cum, directing the release to her stomach. It was a palpable sight; her glorious form softening as she succumbs to your whims.

"Fucking hell..." Sam muttered as the ropes of her release seemed to drag longer.

With her viscous thick spurts of cum vivid against her beautiful tanned skin, your motor senses were already on its way with tongue stuck out and laid flat to sweep away every drop of her load. Sam whimpered with your sight, tickled at the warm wet contact that her brown eyes barely evident as they dilated with lust. She's bittersweet on your tastebuds - one of your favorite flavors - and eagerly lapped as your tongue traced on her abdomen, going through the bumps and scars that heightened your carnal urge to do more.

With the last thread of will within you, you got up on your feet and affectionately pat Sam's cheek repeatedly.

"More treats later, pretty girl. Come on or else they'll start looking for us now."

The awestruck look on her face didn't leave. Sam happily followed you on your way back to your friends, completely satisfied, tailing behind you with hands entwined.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[supernaturalfreewill]

Warnings: drunk adult of legal age lol "Okay, can you navigate the stairs?" Sam asked you, rushing to spot you as you charged forward toward your front porch.

"I'm not THAT drunk," you retorted, and quickly lost your balance on the second step.

"Whoa! Okay..." Sam caught you gently by the elbow and steadied you with another hand on the small of your back. "Let's just slow down a little, yeah?" he laughed, smiling down at you.

You were looking up at him with wide eyes. His were full of so many colors. You found it slightly dizzying. Or maybe that was the alcohol...

"You okay?" he asked, his brow furrowing down.

"Mmm," you nodded. "Sam. I have a secret..."

He laughed again and gently nudged you up the stairs and toward the front door. "You probably shouldn't tell me then," he replied.

You paused to dig around in your bag for your keys, biting your bottom lip. "Well—I mean, if you insist, I guess I could tell you." Your words were slightly slurred and Sam shook his head at you, cocking an eyebrow up.

"I didn't—but go on, I guess," he said, holding the door open when you finally managed to get the key in the lock and turn it. It was pretty clear that what he had to say mattered very little at the moment...

You waved him to come in but he only stood a little nervously on the mat as you dropped your purse and immediately began pulling off your shoes and your jacket. When you were done, you stepped close in front of him again and looked up at him. Sam's eyes flitted down to the soft pout of your lips. "You—you probably shouldn't tell me anything you consider a secret," he said quickly. "You're prettyyy drunk."

"But I want to tell you," you said, still staring up at him.

Sam gulped.

"Sammy—" A jolt of electricity zipped up his back when you said his name like that. You rarely called him 'Sammy'. "—you know, I've had a huge crush on you since the moment we met," you said. Your voice was breathy and low.

Sam gulped again. "Are you sure this isn't just the whiskey talking?"

You shook your head, looking slightly offended that he didn't believe you. "It's not the whiskey. It's true. And the longer I've known you—"

But Sam suddenly gently gripped your shoulders and interrupted you. "Y/N—I'm gonna stop you. You are drunk. And I don't want you to say something you might regret tomorrow."

You looked up at him and a perplexed expression muddled your face. "Why would I regret—"

"Just—trust me. Okay?" His heart was pounding. It took every bit of power he had to stop you from saying what it seemed like you'd been about to say. But he didn't want to hear it this way, with you foggy and fuzzy from a night at the bar and with him unable to feel right about grabbing you and kissing you, worried he'd be taking advantage... "But tomorrow, when you're sober, if you still want to tell me... I promise you I would be—beyond happy to hear it. But for now... goodnight. Drink some water, eat something, and get some sleep, okay? I'll check in with you tomorrow."

Prompt: "Mmmm I have a secret." / "You probably shouldn't tell me then." / "Oh geez, well... I mean... if you insist, I guess I could tell you." / "I didn't but go on, I guess..."

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xx

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: R's Dad gets wind of the plan. He's less than thrilled.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder. Mention of sex, mention of violence.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: sorry bbys, i know i've been MIA. just enjoying the summer, but I'm back for a new chapter! as always, thanks for all the love and let me know what you think!!

Several orgasms later - when you’re a sweaty, ruined mess underneath Tara’s body, you hear the murmur of voices and the front door slam closed.

Sam’s finally had enough, you think, a little sleepily. Her indignant request for the two of you to keep quiet had only made Tara fuck you harder. She’s annoying like that. And what had been Sam’s loss had been your gain.

Or so you had thought.

There’s a rumble against the floorboards downstairs. Boots, the owner heavy-footed. Sam’s voice - distant, a little apprehensive. And then you hear your Dad.

Deep, like thunder.

He sounds pissed.

“Tara, get off me,” You murmur, suddenly. She’s pressing you down into the mattress, lips on your neck, fingers wandering somewhere you definitely don’t need right now.

You sit up slightly, pulling her up with you.

“But I’m not done with you yet.” She says, eyes dancing as she pulls away from your neck.

She pushes you back into the bed, hard, taking your hands and pinning them over your head. You resist. Your Dad’s steps hit like lightning against the staircase.

“Babe,” You insist, “I’m serious, my Dad is home.”

She quells your fears with a kiss. Nips at your bottom lip.

“He’ll knock, babe, relax.” She assures.

She tilts your head to her lips, but you withdraw.

Panic surges through you.

You hear your Dad’s footsteps on the staircase. You wrench your hands out of her grip and reach for your t-shirt.

Your Dad doesn’t knock. You’ve known it for eighteen years and he certainly is going to stop it now. You pry your t-shirt over your head.

“Clothes, Tara. Now.” You hiss.

She rolls her eyes, but reaches for her own shirt.

But it’s too late. You hear the door click as the handle turns and then the bedroom door bursts wide open.

Your Dad stands, eyes wild, frightening as he looks over at you.

Tara gasps, and tugs the sheets over her body.

“Ever heard of knocking, dude?” She asks, cheeks red, in a rare moment of embarrassment.

Your Dad blinks.

The anger dissipates; he’s startled, like you in bed with Tara was the last thing he expected.

“What the hell is going on here?” He hisses, eyes wide with indignation. He flits between you trying to tug your shirt over your head and Tara pulling the sheets up to her neck. He looks outraged.

“Are you having sex?” He splutters. His eyes might bulge out of his head.

“No, we’re playing twister,” Tara says, voice dry, “Of course we’re having sex, what does it look like?”

She, as always, knows how to twist the knife.

You’d tell her to shut up, but your words - along with a piece of your soul - have died. Shock, embarrassment flood through you.

Rage explodes across your Dad’s face.

His chest heaves. He looks as though he might tackle her. You grip her hand, looking between them.

“Just give us one sec, Dad, we’ll be dressed in a minute.”

He takes a breath. Swallows hard.

Silence fills the room for a single, brutal second.

And then he’s blinking over at you, the rage simmering into a steady swell.

“Downstairs.” He tells you, his voice low, “One minute.”

He pauses, eyes flickering with disgust.

“And put some god damn clothes on.”

-

You briefly consider escaping out the window.

Taking Tara with you - with any luck you’d never have to look your Dad in the eye again. The thought of him tearing Woodsboro apart to find you again has you reluctantly pulling your jeans back on and helping Tara into hers.

“No talking back,” You say, lip between your teeth as you button her pants, “I mean it Tara. Say as little as possible, please. Let me do the talking.”

“Whatever you say, babe.” She grumbles. Her cheeks are still tinted pink. You kiss her cheek, rub her hip. She’s cute when she’s embarrassed, but you save that thought for later.

Right now you have bigger problems.

Your Dad is wildly pacing when the two of you come downstairs. Sam looks over at the two of you, offers Tara an appraising I told you so glare, but your focus isn’t on her. You chew your lip, settle into the sofa with Tara at your side.

“Sorry, daddy,” You say, voice small, “We thought you’d be at work a little longer.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, you know it the moment it leaves your lips.

Your Dad whirls around, eyebrows knit almost comically. Deep, angry frown lines mar his face.

“Where do I even begin?” He asks, eyes flashing, “The arrest? The murder? Setting up Ghostface? What the hell has been going on and why wasn’t I told?”

“Dad, please, calm down-“ You start but the look in his eyes quietens you.

“Not to mention the sex?” He thunders as if it’s even vaguely comparable to the others. He points a beefy finger at Tara, “You spent the morning in jail for multiple murders.”

The finger turns to you.

“You spent the morning committing manslaughter. And then the two of you decided to come home and what? Celebrate?”

His face turns red, “With underage fornication?”

Tara can’t help herself.

“It’s not underage sex, we’re both eighteen-“

“Quiet.” He snarls, “We’ll start with you - Sheriff Hicks arrested you this morning. For six murders.”

“That was a mistake,” Interjects Sam, “Sheriff Hicks got it wrong. The culprit was caught. He’s…. in custody.”

“In custody?” Your Dad says, “He’s dead. And the Sheriff tells me it was my daughter who did it.”

His fingers flex, menacingly. He’s scary like this. You’ve always been aware of his temper, walked on eggshells to please him, but this is something different.

Something terrifying.

“He attacked us at the school, I had no choice.” You say, voice small. Tara’s arm snakes around your waist. She squeezes your hip, gently.

“You had no choice?” Says your Dad, taking a step closer, “You arranged it. The Sheriff told me everything. The plan. The guns. You walked in there knowing you were going to take his life. It was calculated. And you didn’t tell me a fucking thing. How dare you.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Says Tara. Your Dad isn’t the only one with a temper, but Tara’s is much, much worse. If he invokes The Rage, there isn’t much you can do to stop it.

You grip her hand, trying to signal for her to back down.

“I’ll talk to my own child how I please,” Your Dad sneers, “And as for you? You want to tell me why the Sheriff suspected you so much she had you hauled off in handcuffs?”

“Because she got it wrong,” You say, “Dad, are you even listening?”

He’s quiet a moment. His eyes swell. He looks the way he did like the first time you had told him you didn’t need him to push you on the swings anymore. Or the time he’d found out you’d had your first kiss with Aaron, or when you’d bought Tara home for the first time.

He looks devastated. Betrayed.

“You never told me you were having sex,” He says, voice hoarse.

You swallow.

“Dad, that’s - a little too uncomfortable of a conversation to have, don’t you think?”

“I thought you were a good girl. I thought you had values.” He looks distraught. So much so, that you almost feel bad.

“Dad… I’m eighteen, it’s not like I’m a kid anymore,” you say, voice slow, “And Tara and I have been dating for two years. I figured you just… knew.”

Clearly, he didn’t.

If anything, the sex has wounded him more than the murder you’d just committed.

“You’re a Christian girl,” He says, voice insistent, “We raised you Christian. I thought that would mean something. I thought you were a virgin.”

Tara can’t help herself; she snorts.

You dig a sharp elbow into her side, but it’s too late. Your Dad’s eyes flash with fury and embarrassment and grief and before you can even blink he’s reaching over to grab Tara by the arm.

He yanks at her, hard, pulling her up like she’s a rag doll.

You scream out, trying to draw your body between his and hers but Sam gets there first.

She shoves him back, hard as she can and steps between them, her eyes flashing.

Looking wounded, Tara rubs at her arm, face flashing with aggravation. There’s an angry red handprint blooming on her. You pull her back, behind you, wrapping your arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t touch her, don’t you dare touch her.” Sam snarls.

Your Dad breathes out, chest heaving. He glares at Tara, and if you and Sam weren’t between them, you really think he might try and hit her.

It’s a sobering thought. And suddenly all you need is to get her out of here.

“We’re going to go.” You say, voice a little shaky, “Me, Sam and Tara are going, Dad. Until you calm down.”

His eyes flash.

You grip Tara a little harder.

“You’re not going anywhere,” He growls, “These two - they can go. They’re trouble. I want them out. But you?”

He points a finger at you.

“You’re grounded. You’re not leaving the house, as of now. Mom will home school you, you’re not seeing the rat-pack of delinquents you call friends again. And you’re breaking up with her, right now.”

Your heart thuds.

Your Dad’s face is brazen. Serious.

But so are you.

“No.” You say, drawing your shoulders back.

“No?”

“No. I’m eighteen, I can’t be grounded. You can’t tell me who my friends are and you certainly can’t stop me from seeing Tara.”

Your Dad slams his hand against the table. A cup shatters to the ground. You flinch.

“She’s been arrested for murder, YN.” He says, voice fraught. He blinks at you, desperate for you to understand, “And you might believe that she’s done nothing wrong but the Sheriff arrested her for a reason. Between that and the-”

He shudders.

“The fornicating. No. You’re not seeing her anymore. I won’t allow it.”

Sam stands up, hands raised. She looks furious, but there’s something in her voice. Like she’s trying to be the voice of reason.

“Sir - please. I know you’re upset but trying to stop them from seeing each other isn’t the right way-“

“You will not see her!” Screams your Dad, “The Sheriff thinks there’s something wrong with her. That she was in it with Richie. And I saw it, right from the start. There’s something wrong with her, YN. That girl is-“

“That girl is my sister, and I’d watch what you were saying if I were you.” Sam says, voice sharp.

“We’ll go,” Says Tara, rubbing your back. She stands a little straighter, “But YN is coming with us. I'm not leaving without her." 

“Dad, I’m going.” You say, voice stern, “And if you try to stop me I’ll call the police myself. I’m eighteen, you have no right to keep me here like a hostage.”

There’s a vein on your Father’s forehead that looks like it might burst. You’ve never seen him like this before: bubbling with fury and fear and desperation. He’s acting irrational.

Crazy.

And you don’t want to be here a minute longer.

“We’re going,” Sam repeats for you. She still has her hand raised, as if she’s afraid he might lunge at Tara at any given moment, “Okay?”

It’s not okay, clearly.

But your threat of calling the police seems to work.

He swallows. Face still red.

He swears at you.

Calls you ungrateful. Smashes another glass against the floor.

But then he leaves.

And before he can change his mind, you’re gripping onto Tara for dear life and leading her out the front door.

-

Sam drives.

You sit in the back seat, head against Tara’s shoulder, inspecting the red hand marks on her forearm.

Your Dad got angry sometimes, sure, but he’d never physically hurt anyone before. He could have killed her right there, you could tell by the look in his eyes, if you and Sam hadn’t been there to intervene.

You press your lips to the mark, heart aching at the thought your own Father had been the one to hurt her.

“You couldn’t have waited a couple more hours before you jumped each other?” Sam asks, voice wry.

She peers into the backseat just in time to catch the flash of indignation across Tara’s face.

“Way to victim-blame, Sam,” Tara says, crossing her arms, “We were just fucking. He was acting like we were dissecting live cats together or something.”

“I thought he knew we were having sex,” You say, absent-mindedly, “What kind of couple is together for two years without having sex?”

“Mormons,” Tara says, her nose wrinkled, “Or your parents, maybe.”

You roll your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter, now.” You say, a little nervous as Sam pulls into the driveway of hers and Tara’s house, “What matters is we get this place safe and secured before we go to bed tonight.”

Tara squeezes your thigh.

Sam gets to work immediately.

She gets her drill out, installing new locks on each of the doors. Tara hides the knives, holsters a small pistol around her waist.

They both look hot.

You keep that thought to yourself and watch Tara as she leans over and reaches for Sam’s drill. She bites her lip as she drills the hinge into place and then turns and catches your gaze.

“What?” She asks, small smile on her face.

“Nothing,” You say, voice coy as she moves over and snakes her arms around your waist, “You just look sexy doing that, that’s all.”

“I look sexy drilling a hinge into the door?” She teases. She presses a kiss to your lips.

You bite your lip and look over at Sam. She’s picking up the drill and then traipsing off into the next room.

“I want you to drill me into the door.” You say, voice low.

Tara’s eyes spark.

Then you hear Sam groan from the other room.

“Again?”

Your cheeks flush red. Tara laughs.

You smack her gently, then nuzzle your head into her neck.

Tara presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m going to finish up these doors,” She says, voice light, “And then I’ll drill you into anything you want, baby.”

You half consider dragging her up the stairs and taking her up on that promise. The adrenaline from the day is manifesting in some particularly horny ways. You don’t know if it’s the fear, or the shock but all you can think about is Tara and how much you want her.

But before you can so much as kiss her, the doorbell is ringing.

Sam peers back into the room, frown on her face.

“If that’s your Dad-” She begins, but you cut her off, miles ahead of her.

If it is your Dad, the last thing you need is Tara around.

You shake her off, worry overtaking your expression.

“I’ll get rid of him,” You say, hurriedly, “Baby, stay here.”

But when you make your way to the door, and swing it open, it isn’t your Dad standing there.

You frown. Clutch at the door a little tighter.

“Sheriff Hicks?” You ask, a little confused. She’s standing with her hat in her hands, looking nervous. More nervous than you’ve ever seen her.

And this is the third time you’ve seen her today, and in all honesty, you’d rather not see her again for a few weeks, at the very least. 

You’ve had your fill of her.

“YN,” She says, peering behind you. She wrings her hands, “Samantha Carpenter, is she here?”

You frown, a little confused.

You feel Tara come up behind you, press her hands to your hips. You don’t need to look at her to tell she’s less than pleased to see the woman who’d arrested her standing on her doorstep.

“Sheriff,” Tara drawls, shoulders tight, “Here to arrest anymore innocent people?”

The Sheriff ignores her. She looks to you.

“May I come in?” She asks.

“No.” Says Tara, arms crossed.

The Sheriff falls silent. Her eyes flit between yours and Tara’s. She looks grave. Like she’s seen a ghost.

“I’m not here to arrest anyone,” The Sheriff says. She sounds serious, “I just need to speak with Sam. It’s about Richie.”

“Richie?” His name draws Sam out from the kitchen.

The Sheriff nods.

“If I could just come inside-”

“You’re not coming inside my house,” Tara says, voice sharp, “Tell Sam whatever you want about Richie, and then leave. Please.”

The Sheriff looks like she wants to argue. But then her shoulders drop. She takes a deep breath and looks Sam right in the eye.

“He’s gone.”

Sam blinks.

“I know, Sheriff,” She says, voice slow, “I was there, remember?”

The Sheriff shakes her head.

“No, Sam. He’s gone. As in we can't find him anywhere.” 

[outlanderskin]

Tobias Menzies

I was reading on a card how much would fit in ten years and I saw that in 10 Years

fit 120 Months

521,714 Weeks

3652 Days

87648 Hours

5258880 Minutes

315532800 Seconds.

And even in all this, it doesn't fit what it meant for me to wait for him.

Within these 10 years, there are memories of being persecuted since the beginning when I said that he was my favorite.

All the times, I had to explain the difference between actors and characters for people who hated him because of Frank and BJR.

All the times I've had to say that I really like Sam, but that at the top of my list will always be Tobias, and this isn't a sin.

All the times I said there was no dispute between them.

All the times I was hurt when I saw people from my side of the fandom excluding him from photos or wishing he wouldn't go to some events because it would "take the focus" away from the main actors couple (yes, this stupid thing happened).

I've been in this fandom since the beginning, and anyone who knows me knows that for me, it's always been about him. I'm not someone who started using Tobias to justify hatred or to disguise an unhealthy love for Sam. It was natural from the first day I looked at him. And a thousand times, I've expressed my pride about how private, talented, different, down-to-earth he is.

I've been going to Cons of Outlander since 2015, but he rarely does Cons, I had already met the loves of my fandom friends' lives, but never mine. Until Saturday, April 13, 2024.

When I took the first photo (with him and Sam) and saw him for the first time, everything around me disappeared completely. There he was, finally. I was practically led by my friend, I gathered all the courage to say where I came from, then he blinked, and all my senses and rationality, and 🎶🎶🎶 all that was me, was gone🎶. I don't remember how I left the room, but my friends remember... I needed to be strong, I thought. There would still be three photos with him alone (one of them a gift from much-loved friends), a photo with him and Sophie, and an autograph. I would have to maintain my sanity until then.

For the first time, I understood the fact that Sam Heughan's fans left photo shoots shaking.

During the photo shoot, I spoke quietly, and so did he, and for me, it was like a dance because I said he decided the poses and I followed. I left the session and I want to thank from the bottom of my heart the girl on the team who asked me how I was and I could only say "he's my favorite" and she hugged me.

There was a rush at the autograph, but I gave him a book about theatre from my country, and I believe it was a gift he didn't expect. He thanked me with his hand on his chest, like the gentleman he is and at that moment I wanted to be royalty because I was going to give him all the honors of a noble English knight that I could find in the Buckingham Palace . Do I like British Monarchy? I like Tobias Menzies.

Ah....how I wish I could sit down with him and say he has a fan page that I manage, say that I admire him for being truly discreet in every way. Ask about his process of acting , speak about Stanislavski, Brecht, Ibsen, talk about my experiences in the classroom with The Theater of the Oppressed and say how good is for me to see someone like him acting. But conventions are collective experiences, and there would be no time.

In ten years, a lot can happen... all this time waiting for him. And I would do it all again. Someone like him was worth waiting for.

[arjwrites]

Close Behind- Sam Winchester x GN!Reader

Summary: You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Sam- and that scares the hell out of him. Based on the song “Close Behind” by Noah Kahan. 

Warnings: Very very angst heavy. A poor, poor, messed up Sammy. Very slight reference to suicide. No uses of Y/N, completely gn

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Got the idea for this fic, sat down to write it, and posted it all in one sitting. This idea hurt my soul so bad that I had to share it with you all. I'll make sure to get some happy Sammy fluff in the works very soon because I literally broke my own heart writing this :'( PLEASE PLEASE listen to the song before or while reading this. If you don't already know it, you're welcome. Such a beautiful song and so Winchester coded, in my humble opinion. I hope you enjoy <3

-

I think I found a fear of mine

That you might love for no reason

You know I worry only luck brought me to you

Sam’s favorite sound in the world was born out of a successful hunt. It was a quiet hum, comprised of the steady rumble of the Impala’s engine, the subtle rhythm of Dean’s more subdued playlist, and the soft breaths that escaped his love’s sleeping lips. Over the years, he had begun to associate this sound with momentary comfort and safety- threats eliminated, civilians saved, and his most important people alive and well. It was the sound of a job well done and the only thing that could pull his system out of fight-or-flight for a short while. On this particular night, Bobby had joined the team for the hunt, so Sam had conceded the passenger seat to him and happily slipped into the back to share space and warmth with you. It didn’t take the lonely highway long to lull you into a peaceful sleep, and for Sam’s mind to drag itself into a million directions. The rear seat was a rare vantage point for him, the unfamiliar setting disrupting the routine settlement of his thoughts and stirring them to the surface like sediment rising from the bottom of a lake. 

Most people would say that their beloved was their peace, the one who kept them grounded and made them feel like everything would be okay. For Sam, this was partially true. You were the tether that anchored him to reality, but reality was scary. Simply knowing the name Sam Winchester put you in the line of fire, and that ate away at his conscience every single day. He knew he was so lucky to have you, but sometimes he wondered about the nature of luck’s intentions. When, in the past, had luck been truly on his side? He feared that was all that tied your heart to him- a fleeting, miraculous moment of luck that would expire any moment and pluck you out of his clutches. Someone to heal his soul and repair his damaged pieces, only so it would hurt even more when life stole you away and broke him back apart. 

I'm half awake most of the time

It's just the timing of the seasons

So you know I worry that you're all I have to lose

These were the thoughts that Sam fought to keep at bay as best he could, but his mind was weary and his fears knew his every weakness. It was hard to ignore these worries when they were self created- his very demise was an inside job. You were the only easy thing in his life, a flickering candle in a dark, damp space- bright, and warm, and magnetically inviting. But Sam felt that when he got too close, when he reached out to touch you and his fingers lingered too long, he would burn himself and extinguish your flame in the process.

This didn’t stop him from loving you, and loving you well, but it made the act a burden. Caring for you was the hardest thing he had ever done. It was always his job to take care of those around him, but for everyone else he protected, he could breathe easy once the bodies hit the floor. For you, there was no safe. There was never an end to the threats that faced you, because there was never an end to the threats that faced him. And because of this, Sam Winchester never felt worthy of you. He could never truly protect you. The very act of loving him was a death sentence, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to free you from it. 

And I should change this way of thinking

That all my fears are facts of life

But I could die tomorrow, you'd be close behind

I hate that you think of yourself that way, you would tell him. Every day I think how lucky I am to love, and to be loved by, you. You couldn’t keep me away if you tried. I’ve never felt safer than I do with you. Sam recognized the arsenal of responses you had developed to address his concerns- no worry he threw your way was ever left unanswered. But Sam was stubborn. His fears were informed by everything he had ever known, every loss he had ever faced. His life had been an uphill battle, and try as you might, there was never rest in a soldier’s mind. And for Sam, there was no way to win the war. Because if he lost you, he would lose everything. And if he died to protect you, there would be no one left to keep you safe. So all he could do was fight as hard as he could around the clock, destroying himself for the sake of your preservation. 

I live my life in years to come

To prepare myself for sorrow

So I won't worry when I crumble at your feet

Losing you was always in the back of Sam’s mind. Sometimes when he let his mind wander too far, he would try to make plans for what he would do, how he would handle it, but he could never quite wrap his head around a desire to live even a minute longer than you. These were the thoughts that plagued his mind when he would roll over to hold you a little tighter at night. He would stir and you would wake, whispering reassurances that he would never accept. Still, it was nice to hold you close. It was a reminder that you were still here, that he could savor you for as many minutes as he was blessed with. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Sam to break down in front of you. It was a heavy load he carried, and you told him time and time again to let you into his heart and mind. You do so much to care for me, Sam. Let me care for you. So every so often, when things got so dark that he lost his way, you were the one to try to coax him back to the light. 

It's something sinister to love

Without regard for dear Tomorrow

To search for worry is to love without deceit

Dean would tell him he needed to stop worrying so much, that he was ruining the love he had right in front of him by not letting himself enjoy it. Live in the moment, he’d say. Enjoy what you have right now. But that was never an option for Sam. If he let his guard down, if he let himself become distracted, weak, he could lose you. It was because he truly loved you that he piled the world atop his shoulders. It was all he felt he could do to earn the right to be loved by you. Dean would shake his head, but he knew deep down that there was nothing he could do to change his brother’s line of thinking. As long as there were monsters to hunt, there would be danger. And as long as there was danger, Sam would throw himself in the line of fire to keep you safe- whether the enemy was a ghost, a demon, or his own mind. 

So I fill my days with thinking

Though, I'm years from my true time

I could die tomorrow, you'd be close behind

Close behind. 

Hey, hey. Sam. It’s okay, breathe with me. 

Sam, I know you still worry, but we haven’t hunted for years now. There’s no more danger. 

You and me? We’re safe and sound. You can breathe easy, you can relax. 

I’m not going anywhere. 

Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t still think about losing you every day. Though you had been out of the hunting game for years, though the world had found a new peace and many of the threats had been eliminated, the worry was too far engrained into his mind. He tried to hide it from you because there was nothing you could do to help. This was a burden Sam knew he would carry for the rest of his life. His eyes would always dart around a new room for escape routes. He would always carry holy water in case he got suspicious. He would skim through old lore books in secret to keep his knowledge sharp. He still slept with his gun in his nightstand, kept as far away from him as he could bear, out of fear that you would notice its presence and recognize his fear. But you already knew all of these things. You were so attuned to everything that weighed heavy on Sam’s heart- this had always been your own burden to carry. 

I can’t wait to grow old with you, you’d hum, running your fingers through his hair or tracing circles on his forearm. Sam would nod, he would smile, he would humor you as you chatted about marriage and kids and retirement and everything he knew you deserved. You two built a beautiful, normal life together- dinner dates and romantic vacations and even a big white wedding one day. But even as he stood at the altar and watched you walk down the aisle, there was a pistol tucked into his waistband of his tux. When you moved into your first home, he would sneak out of your room in the middle of the night to stencil warding symbols underneath the paint you’d picked out for the living room. And when you were setting up the nursery before bringing home your first child… 

Sam would grow old with you, but his heart would never grow any less weary. 

[paranoidginger]

Respawn Malfunction- Destabilization-3

Characters: Spy (TF2), Medic (TF2), Engineer (TF2)

TW: Body Horror, Dark Themes, Needles

Nearly two months had passed since the initial incident, and Medic had managed to regain most of the Spy's trust again, getting his answers despite his silent wishes that he would be able to witness the Destabilization process first-hand.

It had been one of the rare times that their team won, and going into the weekend it was a wonderful way to raise everyone's spirits for the next week's battles, not to mention that it gave Medic time to mull over his data and theories as to what had gone wrong to cause such a severe malfunction in the team's Spy that handful of weeks ago.

What the Medic wasn't expecting, was for the Engineer to bust down his door after Saturday's breakfast, half-carrying the Spy; his current object of interest within his studies. Nor did he expect his silent wish to be answered.

"Doc! Something's wrong with Spy!" Engineer called sharply, helping his partner to sit down as the Medic set aside his reading and moved to meet the pair, tipping the Spy's chin up slightly to get a clearer look at his face once he arrived.

"Tell me vhat is going on, meine freund." Medic said quietly, letting go of the Spy's face and looking to Engineer as his patient remained silent, save for his raspy and unsteady breathing.

"W-We were in the workshop, an' I was goin' tah work on his gear a bit, and he just started tippin' over... I-I caught 'im but he's burnin' up, and he's got that scared look in 'is eyes, scared the livin' daylights outta me-" The Engineer explained as quickly as he could, his ramblings interrupted by the Medic as he pulled Spy to his feet once again.

A look of fear crossed the Spy's face as he folded in on himself, clasping a hand over his mouth as his labored breaths turned to hacking coughs, only standing by the will of the Medic, who diligently kept him on his feet.

"Ve will have to move quickly zhen! Engineer please help our dear spy undress, You can pull zhat curtain to make a little private room, I vill be right back." With that, Medic shifted the Spy's weight over to Engineer who hesitantly nodded, carefully helping Spy to the little area and pulling the curtain shut.

Medic arrived moments later with a large plastic bin, a barely contained grin on his face as he set it on the floor of the curtained space. Any real worry for the other man simply overridden by his curiosities. As long as he remembered not to put his hands through him, he wouldn't be hurting him, and he would respawn in one piece again anyway.

"Spy, in zhe bin please!" He spoke in a cheerful tone, gesturing to the plastic tote as he moved to help the man step into the container and sit down, his body still wracking with choking breaths and hot pain that spread throughout his chest and abdomen.

"What in sam-hill are you doin' all this for? First you ask me to undress the man now you're puttin' him in this?" Engineer gestured to the container, his heart aching as the man he loved stared fearfully towards him, the only part of him still covered being his head, thanks to the balaclava that Engineer knew he rarely removed. "You're treatin' him like some sorta lab rat, Doc, this doesn't seem much like helping him! I just don't understand-"

"Ah, zhe explanation vill show itself shortly, I'm certain of it! I'm sure our dear kamerad vill be greatful for your support, as vell!" Medic chimed, reaching down and grabbing the bottom edge of the Spy's balaclava. "I apologize, meine freund, can't have zhis getting in zhe vay again."

The Medic paused as the man's clumsy and quivering hands grabbed at his wrists to no avail as the medic peeled away his mask, the surface of his skin growing shiny and slick as he tried to speak, only to find his lips unable to part, and breaths impossible to take as he began to grab at his face, quiet gurgles the only sound he could make, his hands pulling away from his face with thick strands of viscous fluid.

The Engineer took a small step back, a look of horror and disgust across his face as he watched the Spy's face melt and contort, the other man's eyes rolling back slightly as the parts of his body that should have been solid and bone began to collapse in on themselves.

Spy wanted to scream... He wanted and he tried, but the only sounds he could manage were small bubbling gurgles as his body burned and liquefied, the sounds he could still make slowly fading as the small amount of air still trapped inside of him escaped, leaving him mute and defenseless.

All Engineer could do was stand and watch in absolute horror as the minutes dragged on, and his lover quite literally melted in front of him, a hand covering his mouth as he watched in silence.

Medic, on the other hand had been watching intently, taking careful notes as the process went on, ethics clouded by curiosity and morbid interest as he simply watched and waited.

Slowly, the Spy's entire being dissolved into itself as the others observed, leaving nothing but a thick, translucent fluid in the bottom of the container he had been made to sit in, and the man's eyes by the time the process was complete.

"Doc..." The Engineer finally broke the silence, his voice cracking and quivering ever so slightly as he spoke "W-what did I just watch..."

"A respawn malfunction at its peak! Zhis happened just a couple of veeks ago as well!"

"Spy ain't respawned since yesterday, sawbones, how can you think this is because of that machine?!" Engineer spoke quickly, hesitating for a moment before walking up to the bin and kneeling down beside it. "This just ain't right..."

"I zhink zhis one vas delayed for some reason, like an incubation period on a virus, except zhe result is Spy turning into zhis slime! By all means it should kill him, but as far as I know, He is still completely alive in zhat state!"

"He's still... Oh God..." He looked down at the contents of the bin, covering his mouth once again as he watched the thick substance slowly congeal into a round-ish sort of shape, the Spy's eyes moving to look up at him.

Hesitantly, the Engineer lowered his gloved hand into the large container and gently touched the side of the gelatinous mass that had once been the Spy, watching as his surface rippled in a small, neat pattern, inching closer and stretching slightly into the Engineer's gloved palm.

"Can you... Is there a way to fix this?" The Engineer asked quietly, sparing a desperate glance at the team's doctor before returning his gaze to the Spy.

"I have no idea! Zhe last time, I ran a few tests und zhen euthanized him via electric shock. Zhe method vas quite messy though, I vas cleaning bits of him out of zhe lab for days after he exploded." He shrugged "I could try a couple more zhings vith him, if you don't mind"

"If you're not gonna just fix this, it's better to just put him down... Watchin' that happen to him... It looked like it hurt... There's no way to tell if he's still hurtin' either." There was a pained look on his face, tears stinging at his eyes beneath his goggles as he carefully traced his gloved hand over the rippling surface of what had once been the Spy... That still was the Spy.

"I could see if zhe medigun has any effect. I can also see vhat injectable painkillers could do." He wrote something else in his notes before leaving the small curtained area, returning with his medigun and a box full of syringes and various injectables. "Up to you vich ones ve try first, meine hard-hatted freund!"

The Spy's gelatinous form inched closer to the Engineer, his surface rippling harder than before as his eyes turned to look up at the doctor, The Engineer watching carefully as the blob that was Spy moved and pulsed.

"Just try the medigun, Doc... He looks scared..." The Engineer responded in a careful tone, still cupping his hand around the Spy's side.

The Medic shrugged slightly, turning on the medigun and aiming it at the Spy, watching carefully as the Spy seemed to relax, the pulsing of his rippling surface slowing and eventually stopping and his rounded form flattening slightly.

"Oh! Zhat's an interesting reaction!" The Medic chirped leaning in a bit closer to the bin and propping the medigun on his knee as he reached out to lightly poke at the Spy with his gloved hand.

Engineer watched worriedly as the blob in the large container pulled quickly away from the medic, a pair of nubs forming and wrapping around his hand.

"Ohoh! Look at zhat! Zhe medigun must have stabilized him in a vay zhat he can move... He's even got little hand nubs!"

"I... I don't think we should keep goin' like this, Doc..." The Engineer's brows furrowed as he looked to the Medic, a frown crossing his lips.

"He should be fine like zhis for just a little longer, I have so many more tests to run!"

It took some time, but the Engineer was able to talk sense into Medic, protective over the translucent mush that had become of his Spy as the pair decided on how to make him respawn again.

Eventually, Medic decided on acid, testing it on one of the samples he had taken the first time and watching as it destroyed and dissolved the sample swiftly and with no remains.

Once the short test was finished, the Engineer stood and gathered the Spy's things, leaving the defenceless blob alone with the doctor as he departed for the respawn chamber.

The Medic knelt down beside the plastic tub, a grim expression on his face and a large syringe filled with the eroding chemical, making eye contact as the Spy's amorphous form pulsed and rippled.

"I apologize, zhis vill hurt, it is simply zhe most efficient method I can zhink of. At least it vill be over quickly." The Medic gently patted the Spy, taking a small breath before inserting the needle into his gel-like body.

The needle stung as it made its way into him, pressure building up and sending splitting pain through him before the burning began, the acid eating a gaping hole through him as it slowly made it to his eyes, his world going black before the agony finally disappeared along with his consciousness.

Engineer was there, already waiting as the respawn machine pieced the Spy back together, shoving his consciousness into the new body as the man wobbled slightly on his feet, blinking as the Engineer quickly moved up to him, carefully looking him over.

"You're not feelin' like you're gonna melt again, are you?" Engineer asked quickly, pulling Spy into a hug, feeling as the taller man returned the gesture, burying his face in the Engineer's shoulder as he began to cry. "Shhh... it's okay sunshine... It's alright... Come on now, let's get you dressed."

Engineer carefully helped him along, concern still clear on his face as he helped the Spy with his mask, making sure it sat evenly on the man's face before cupping his cheeks in his hands and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I won't let this happen again... I-I don't know what I'd do if you got stuck like that..." The Engineer spoke softly looking up at the Spy's face "I don't care what it takes... I'm gonna fix that machine so it doesn't happen again."

"Thank you, mon amour... I-I do not know what I would do if I were to get stuck like that either..." The Spy whispered, gently resting his forehead against the Engineer's, both of them hoping that the incident never repeated again.

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

@thatonesimp-e @sprite-or-something

[winpocalypse]

the 11x04 (baby) car sex scene (with feelings) that was missing from our brotherlovers for the bottom!sam enjoyers out there On AO3

It’s not like it’s the first time it happens. It’s just the first time in a long time — maybe years and years? —, and maybe it’s the first time happening in the front seat. All crowded, tight and hot. Sam’s having the most difficult time out of the two, with his long limbs, trying to fit where he can’t, his shoulders hunched, while his brother sits back with a big old smirk. Those are rare nowadays. 

That last time, so long ago, Dean was oh, so pissed. It was not uncommon for Dean to be pissed, really, it was like saying he had green eyes. Just a fact of life. But it stuck out that time because with all the arguing they did when Sam came back from Stanford, they went through a period of silence. A silence louder than all the pranks, yelling and old school rock. And then, that night, right before that last time, Dean was yelling again. Hoarser than ever. It sounded a lot like John, actually. But for that time, Sam was not yelling back. He snapped back less and less since they were joined by— some angels, was it? Then, it happened all fast and angry in the backseat. 

“Let me ease it up for ya,” Dean says with that casual humor of his, but the rough edge to his voice is anything but. Sam probably notices it. The kid spent so much of his years just staring at his left, he can draw that profile with eyes closed. He knows everything about his big brother, every line to his face, every tone to his voice, no doubt.

Dean opens the door to the driver’s seat, and pushes his seat back, as Sam steps one foot to the ground, at some dirty desert road, and readjusts himself on top. He stops for a second, hesitates, his eyes suddenly serious in contrast to Dean’s crow’s feet. Some things never change, even with all the years, the messes, the fights. They always come back to their roots, and Sam gotta worry while Dean gotta divert.

“What, thinking about Piper?”

Sam huffs, “Shut up.”

“She really released something in you, huh? Or rather, you did on her—”

“She didn’t do anything, I—” Sam takes a breath. “I was thinking about this for a while.”

“Were you now?” Dean’s hands are anxious where Sam can’t see them. His fingers seem eager to grab at Sam’s hips, but they just dance around, grazing at the shirt. “With all that talk about settling down, finding yourself a girl?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Shut up.”

They both smile at each other, and it’s obviously a release of some sort, a big relief, even though their lips don’t stretch as wide anymore, not for years. The new normal for them is fairly contained smiles and exchanged looks, but there’s little moments that resemble, just lightly, what they let pass. But this ain’t a little moment. It’s a pretty defining one, it seems.

“You can touch me, you know,” Sam whispers when his smile fades. Dean’s anxious fingers find their way to Sam’s hips, now almost shy.

“It’s been a while. More than a while.”

“I know.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Let’s worry about that after we make sure you can get it up.”

Dean Winchester was never one to receive teasing lightly. Now, he grabs Sam with intent, his fingers digging and finding their way underneath the shirt. And he yanks. The space is minimal already, but he does so Sam slides in his lap, even if just a little, making both of them groan. “The day I can’t get it up is the day I’m a dead man.”

Sam laughs and his cheeks get flushed. This doesn’t happen often or at all. It surely didn’t with the girl— Piper? Yeah, for that, he was laid back, confident. Right here, with the blush, the trembling fingers, and quivering breath, Sam seems like a different person. 

He stretches his arm to the backseat, laying his weight completely on Dean, who grunts, “Yeah, don’t mind me.” Sam finds his backpack, an old thing he’s been carrying since— since forever, really, probably also carrying the stains of every road trip. Maybe they’re souvenirs. 

“Y’know, I don’t need a blanket,” Dean says by his brother’s ear and Sam shivers, landing a shove at his shoulder as he comes back to his position, with some small plastic bottle in hand. 

Dean’s hands reach further inside Sam’s shirt. “Sam Winchester, ladies and gentlemen.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be prepared.”

“Well, think again,” Dean says, smug, as he reaches down, under the seat and comes up with a plastic container of his own. 

Sam looks at it, wary. “How long has that been in there?”

“Well, how long you got yours?”

“Mine’s brand new!”

“I don’t believe that for a second, we’re using mine.”

“No, we’re not.” Sam tries fetching it, but Dean shoves his hand back. “C’mon, dude.”

“If you want a piece of this, we’re using mine.”

Sam sighs. “Fine,” he says and Dean’s smile grows bigger for a second, until Sam backs away, supporting himself at the open door to get up.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Dean tugs at Sam’s belt until he’s back in his lap. He lifts his plastic bottle in Sam’s face and then throws it out the door. With his smile back, he takes Sam’s own little bottle, opening up the cap. “Ride it, cowboy.”

“God,” Sam says between amused and disappointed. It’s a combination often used concerning Dean. 

Sam drops his forehead to Dean’s shoulder and they breathe together for a little while. Both of them trying to calm each other’s nerves, it seems, without saying anything. They rely a lot on not saying anything, some form of otherly communication. But this time, at least, it appears to do the trick. Sam has his hand by Dean’s shoulder, as Dean soothes his brother’s back with gentle fingers. 

“You know,” Dean says after a few minutes, voice tight. “I didn’t think you would ever want to do this.”

Sam’s body tenses, just slightly, and Dean’s fingers press harder against his back. “Yeah,” Sam whispers. 

“You sure?”

“I am.”

Dean turns his face, kissing Sam’s temple and they both exhale together, closing their eyes. Their movements are slow, deliberate, completely new to them. They share their breaths, slide their noses together, tease at kissing. They take their time. Up until their lips actually touch, and Dean’s pushing forward, pressing his hands firmly, opening up his mouth. Sam follows along, his fingers running through Dean’s hair, pressing close and undulating his hips. 

Dean groans into their kiss, “Ah fuck.”

They don’t take their time after that. 

Sam’s pants are by the floor outside, Dean’s are by his knees, constricting his movements. They’re out of their jackets and shirts, only the dark t-shirts left, the one Sam’s wearing folded up to his chest, where Dean’s not leaving an inch of skin untouched. 

They rock together, clinging to each other, sharing sweat, spit and sounds and leaving all the evidence in the seats. Dean grunts where Sam whimpers, he moans where his brother gasps, and they swallow the noises with haste. 

It goes for such a long time, the sky changes and the cold breeze intensifies. There’s little moments of rest, when Sam loses the strength in his thighs and they just collapse into each other, their chests pressed together, fighting for air, just like now. 

Dean cradles Sam’s face, moving his hair out of their faces. “Up for another one, Sammy?”

“How the hell are you still standing?” Sam sounds out of breath.

“I told you, gotta be a dead man first.”

“Just— give me a minute.”

Dean reaches for the glove compartment. “Hold up, I got something to get you in the mood again.” He finds a tape and puts it on, while Sam just rests his head against his, eyes closed. He must be so tired, he doesn’t even complain about the awkward position. 

And then Dean turns up the volume. The song is one Dean, as a kid, blasted all the time, bobbing his head and singing the lyrics all wrong, next to a smiling John and a fed up Sammy. 

Born To Be Wild by Steppenwolf is what makes Sam jolt back up. “Are you serious?”

“That’s such a mood booster, come on.”

“I just went soft.”

“And I got harder.”

“I can feel you, you jerk.”

“You have to feel the lyrics, man.”

“Don’t say that stuff when you’re deep inside of me.”

Dean laughs and sings, “Yeah, darling, gonna make it happen. Take the world in a love embrace. Fire all your guns at once— C’mon!”

“Yeah, that’s a wrap.”

Dean turns the volume down, next to a whisper, and his fingers trace back to Sam, his partially naked back all the way down to his crack where they’re joined and his other hand finds its way to the small space between them. It’s so obvious Dean loves the noises he gets out of Sam, the way his big eyes sparkle, locked on Sam’s face. 

They kiss, slower than before, and Dean opens a big smile through it when Sam begins moving his hips, just a little. 

“I missed you, you know,” Sam says, low and lazy.

“I missed you, too.”

“I missed this version of us.”

They look at each other, now both of them serious, but soft around the eyes. Again communicating without words, but landing the message this time. “I missed that, too.”

The smiles they share now are even softer than that first year they came back together after some time apart, when they stole so many glances. Dean breaks the moment, of course, with a light slap to Sam’s butt. “Now, get to work.”

“Dean, you’re going to kill me.”

“Nah, that’s not happening, especially now. Darkness be damned.”

Sam shakes his head, a fond and tired smile on display, but his hips are increasing in speed, as Dean hums against his temple.

Like a true nature's child

We were born, born to be wild

We can climb so high

I never wanna die

[theglamorousferal]

Samantha al Ghul

Rain raced down her window as she looked out to the gloomy surroundings. Sam had never felt more at home than in Gotham she's realizing. The architecture and general vibe of the city resonated with her on a level she had only felt when in the Infinite Realms.

Sam's parents stuck out like a sore thumb, all bright and hopeful. They looked like you took two characters from a children's show and dropped them into a grimdark HBO classic. Sam loves them, she really does, but just one look at them would have muggers salivating.

She's been somewhat looking forward to this particular gala, if only because she managed to convince her parents to let her wear a dress that's mostly black with details of roses and thorny vines twisted around the bottom of the skirt. She would be blending in for once, something she had mixed feelings about. At least there would be some other kids her age there, at least according to her parents. Hopefully they weren't the usual stuck up people like Paulina, Sam was sick of her being the only one to talk to at functions in Amity.

They pulled up to a large gothic manor and the driver came to the door with umbrellas for the family, helping them out of the car. Sam's first thought when looking at the house was envy, she would love to live in a place like this. Her second thought was of getting out of the rain so that it wouldn't ruin her favorite combat heels. At the door, they were greeted by a butler who took their coats and introduced himself as "Alfred Pennyworth, head butler of the Wayne family." Which gave Sam momentary pause, the dredges of a memory popping up.

Why is that familiar? What does Wayne mean in accordance with Gotham?

As she walked in to the gala, she got her answer.

Standing next to a tall man with a streak of white through the front of his hair was someone she hadn't seen in years. Someone she thought had died that day ten years prior. Someone she always felt guilty for.

She was moving before she even realized, skidding to a stop before him.

"Ahki" She mutter low so only he could hear. The boy froze and then slowly turned to look at her.

"Ukht" He said back and suddenly they were both hugging, clinging to each other like they had when they were so much smaller. Tears rarely spent were shed. "How are you here? How are you alive?"

"I survived the fall. I don't know how, but I survived the fall but then I had amnesia and didn't remember anything. I was taken in by this couple who had wanted a daughter. By the time I remembered anything, it was too late for me to return to the League. How'd you get out? I thought you died that day!"

The tall man put his hands on each of their shoulders. "Maybe you should take this to a private setting? We don't want anything leaking to the press."

Damian seemed to think it over for a moment before looking at the crowd who were all staring at the two teens. They let go of each other and made their way to a balcony. "I managed to kill the interloper that held me, but when I looked over the cliff's edge, you were nowhere to be seen. I had assumed you had been swept beneath the current. I searched along the riverbanks to no avail." He glanced over her face, seeming to drink in the sight he had missed for so long. "How are you here?"

"I came with my adoptive parents. They're the ones who stick out like a sore thumb. I've been living with them in Amity Park, Illinois since I was found. They're good people, but they have their eccentricities. They want me to wear bright colors all the time." Sam's nose scrunched up in distaste. Damian chuckled.

"That hasn't changed I see."

"What about you? How'd you get out?"

"There was a coup, one of Grandfather's apprentices, Deathstroke, attacked him. In the chaos Mother managed to get us out and she brought me to Father. I've been living with him for five years now."

"Oh, so Father is here?" Sam thought for a moment then whispered. "I know Father is the Bat, but what is his real name? I know mother told us once, but my memory is still kinda foggy."

"It's his gala you're attending, Father is Bruce Wayne."

"That airheaded himbo?" Sam snorted, then thought a bit. "Wow he's a much better actor than I expected then."

"We should probably go make an appearance again, the vultures are probably talking about our outburst."

[v-era-18]

HoneyBee

Chapter Two: Chased or Chase

‘Why continue to chase after someone when they deserve the moon, and you simply can’t give it to them,’- Sam Witwicky

2

Tonight was perfect.

Not only was (Y/n) able to warm up her meal from ‘Honey’s Waffles’ without ruining the quality, but she was able to watch her favorite movie before falling asleep. The covers were warm, along with the hand sewn quilt her grandmother made her in the ninth grade. The stars were hand stitched, along with her favorite constellations.

It was beautiful, in the far right square at the very bottom was a stitched planet from her family's stories her grandfather told. She still remembers the tears she shed that night on her birthday, Sam’s laughter at how ugly her face scrunched up as fat tears rolled down. It was one of the memories she cherished the most, things were so simple back then, but here they were last year of highschool and college acceptance letters littered her simi neat desk.

She rolled over, snuggling into the bear on the other side of the bed as she thought about the handsome boy from earlier. The girl bit her lip as a giggle bubbled up behind her lips as she tried to keep the feeling at bay. He was a stranger, and yet he left her feeling like she was the only one in the world at that moment. She could still feel the lips that whispered against her ear at the soft promise to see her again.

(Y/n) will admit, she's looking forward to the possibility of the boy walking through the large doors of her family's library. It was another one of her pride that she did not take lightly, and sharing it with someone she saw as a romantic interest was something she most definitely wanted to share. She rarely had crushes of course, she spent so much time on school work and stories to really experience dating and here she was, imagining scenarios of her reading him her favorite book as they snuggled on the couch.

Her mind wandered back to the illusion episode she had in the car, it came out of nowhere but left her hot and heavy. The hands seemed to know where to go on her body as if they'd done it so many times before

A yawn escaped her plump lips getting comfortable underneath the warm blankets, now all she had to do was get a few more hours of sleep before-,

Her phone started to go off, the ringtone blaring to life with the three women's voices taking over singing ‘Soldier’. A groan left her lips as she slugged her arm over to grab the phone from the nightstand. The screen blinded her as the contact read ‘Lord Witwicky >:(‘ appeared with three text messages.

With a sigh (Y/n) answered, praying he wasn’t calling her to tell her about a dream he had about Mikaela.

“Yes Sam-”

“(Y-Y/n)! I need you to bike down to the end of your block right now! M-My car is being stolen-they're about to pass your street!” Sam's breathing sounded panicked and out of breath, he let out a yelp as the phone shuffled a bit.

“Whoa-wait that doesn't make any sense?!,” She was already putting on her shoes, forgetting the shorts and tank she had on before dashing outside to her black bike, “Why did you call me-Call the police!”

“I did! You try to speak to the police-when you can barely breath! It's been so long since I've biked this much I’m out of shape,”

She biked down to the end of her street and sure enough the black and yellow camaro drove full speed ahead, deciding to follow she made a full dash behind them. The windows were oddly tinted from what she could tell but it didn't make sense due to the fact they were not the few times she was in the car.

Sam soon caught up with her, their speed wasn’t as fast as the vehicle ,but they were able to keep on its tail the whole entire time. Her breathing was labored as they passed many streets in pursuit of the speeding vehicle, it was a miracle for the robber that the streets were clear this time of night. It wasn’t long before the pursuit led them onto private property, the car rammed right through the gate without mercy.

(Y/n) stopped as Sam kept biking on through the gate, “Sam! This is private property!”

The boy didn't seem to hear her as he was more focused on retrieving his car. Sam's form disappeared behind the corner of the building , the girl groaned in frustration and followed against her better judgment. She soon caught up with her friend on foot leaving her bike where he left his.

“Sam we have to leave-”

Sam covered her mouth, pointing up at the large emerging figure in front of the powerplant. (Y/n) looked up at the sight before her in great fascination. The robot's form was one to take a gander at. From the clear Chevrolet bust to the wings on the back being the doors. A quirk of a smile made way on her face at the sight before her

Sam ducked down and began recording on his phone, “Hello, My name is Sam Witwicky! I am here with my best friend (Y/n) (L/n)-who ever finds this my car is alive-okay,” He held up the phone to the robot, accidently getting (Y/n)’s curious expression in the process, “I-If this is my last words-I just wanted to say, Mom-Dad I love you and if you find ‘Busties Beauties’ under my bed it wasn’t mine! I'm holding it for Miles! No-no-wait that's not true it's mine-Miles gave it to me I'm sorry! Mojo, I love you.``

Sam hug up the phone and slowly picked himself up from the ground, He grabbed (Y/n) pulling her along from the massive robot shining the light into the night.

Her gaze never left the figure, something inside of her tugged her soul back towards the massive being. The same being from the stories her grandfather told her about each night. It was different from what she'd imagined, but she wasn't disappointed-not one bit. (Y/n) heard they came in a variety of many shapes and sizes, just like humans only their forms were more mechanical and they could live for ages in comparison.

The girl turned her excited gaze back to Sam,“What do you think it was? Pops told me stories about this-” She was cut off with the boy silencing her, it took a moment before she heard it, the low growl of a predator.

The two teens moved slowly, watching the dogs carefully looking for a means of escape; Unfortunately, (Y/n) wasn’t one to dwell with danger, in fact her first response was to run from it. Sam was hot on her heels, the growls of the two dogs growing near with each turn the two took. The two teens jumped and dodge obstacles in the wake, trying to escape the threatening jaws of punishment.

“H-hey! Good Dog! Good Dog-!”

“Shut up Sam! And Run!”

They both ended up in a dead end, both fending for themselves on a large crate to escape the large jaws of disapproval. One ended up biting the girl's shoe, leading to her yelling in panic, Sam tried to grab a hold of her before she could fall. Before the black dog could jump and attack again, the black and yellow car crashed through just in time, Sam never looked more scared in his life as the vehicle circled them drawing away the dogs from earlier.

“H-hey! Please-Please don't kill us! I'm sorry! Here's the keys-you can have em’! Cars all yours!” Sam threw the keys at the car, pulling (Y/n) along with him outside.

(Y/n) froze once the cop car pulled up in front of them, Sam was relieved rushing up to them in panic, “Woah-woah-listen-listen-listen!Good your here!-”

“Let me see your hands!” Both officers immediately pulled both firearms pointing at the two of them, the girl felt bile in her throat, and immediately placed her hands up walking over in compliance.

“Wait-no no no-what you mean? The guys inside-?!”

“Shut up! Put your hands behind your head, and put your head on the hood.” Both of them complied, Sam looked over at his friend noticing her expression. (Y/n)’s eyes were filled with tears, a bitter snarl on her lips as she was handcuffed first beside him. He immediately regretted calling her tonight.

~✯~

The car ride was tense between the two teens as Ron drove (Y/n) home. Their time at the police office was surely interesting, the two cops never let up on her, not once. She's been many things in her life, but never had she been called a drug addict and a thug.

It hurt, it hurt so bad and she never knew those two men in her life. It was the fact it took Sam asking, ‘Why are you guys only questioning her? I'm the one who called!’ for them to finally let up on their verbal abuse. She was so tired and worn out. It left a mental strain to know she actually went to jail, and was arrested for simply trying to help.

Sam shifted awkwardly in his seat, “(Y/n), I’m sorry-”

“Save it,” Her tone was bitter and hurt, a struggled breath left her in trying hard not to cry, “Out of all things I’ve done for you this is the one thing-the one thing I deeply regret.”

The boy looked at her hurt, “You don't mean that-”

“Sam,” Ron tried to shut his son up.

“No-she doesn't mean that! (Y/n) you always said were in it together-”

“When has there been an us as of late!” The Afro headed girl finally snapped, “Every single time you ask for something it's for your benefit! When have you ever done me a favor-!”

“Plenty of times!”

“Name one Samuel!”

Sam paused for a moment, rethinking the last time he actually offered to help her with something. Ron looked at his son in the corner of his eye in frustration, he knew this would somehow come back to bite his son in the ass. The boy sighed against the seat in frustration.

“I-I’m sorry-I didn't realize that I neglected this part of our friendship-”

“You did the moment you let Miles degrade me and keep him around-over and over-This! This is the tip of the iceberg Sam!,” (Y/n) sighed, “You’d rather have any friend to talk to-and any girl to stare at you and caress you without actually making the steps to build something, without thinking of them in a lewd manner-”

“Hey guys-let's not say anything we might regret-”

“I mean every-fucking-word. I've been nothing but a good friend-not only did I give you the car I wanted-but I helped you with a girl who didn't give two shits about you-who-hell-didn't even know your name till sixteen hours ago and I still corrected her-”

“Mikaela doesn't have to do with anything in regards to the conversation-”

“Of course she doesn't! But everytime shes not around and your with me you have to bring her up twenty four seven-”

“Guys-”

“Oh-oh really? You wanna bring that up? How about we talk about how you basically were talking with a stranger and was basically inviting him to fu-”

Ron smacked his son's head before he could finish, but the damage was done, (Y/n) sat back in the seat , tears seeped her lips as she stared out the window. Sam acknowledged his mistake ,and didn't say another word for the rest of the car ride.

Mr. Witwicky dropped the girl off and watched her sad figure walk inside the house, he looked back at Sam, a deep frown placed on his face. “Out of everything to say, you allude to her being a prostitute-”

“She was bashing Mikaela-”

“She wasn’t bashing that girl, and you know it!” Mr Witwicky threw his hands to the roof of the vehicle in frustration, “She was pointing out how you take the things you have for granted, especially your friendship. To be honest I thought you'd grow up and be smart and realize that (Y/n) is the one you should be running after, not some chick who messes with jocks and because she looks like a pornstar,”

Sam looked at the door (Y/n) walked through, the lights were on-signaling her Nana was awake, it was no doubt she would be interrogated. He knew his dad didn’t mean to insult Mikaela, so he let it slide; but he still didn’t like how both of them were right. He did have a habit of chasing after girls who focused more on popular guys than schoolwork.

“She’ll never see me that way, she only has stuck around because we’re all we have-“

“Oh so “friends” wake up at 2 o’clock at night, go on a car chase and get arrested for someone because their friends,” The boy's father was deeply disappointed, watching the girl he watched grow along his son wasn’t something to idle by. (Y/n)’s reputation would be described as pure since middle school and on; However, tonight tainted the innocent record that landed her many scholarships.

“Think about all the things she lost, do you honestly want to take away the one thing she wanted to achieve in life?! Her degree in robotics, her minor in creative writing-“

Sam sighed in frustration, his father didn’t even finish he was so heated with the night of events. It was his first time being arrested along with (Y/n), however it didn’t affect him as much since his father was head of the neighborhood watch.

“I-I couldn't see her that way! I chose to see her as a sister-and whenever I entertained that idea it just seemed wrong!” Sam looked at his dad, a pained expression morphed on his face from the night of events, “I know I'm not the one for her Dad, these past few years proved it. Yesterday, I was so jealous at the thought of another guy stealing what we have with each other, then I realized how toxic I would've been-to keep her single while I kept looking for someone else like her.”

Ron frowned slowly realizing what his son was venting. He knew the answer but decided to ask anyway. “Did you fall in love with her and give up?”

Sams face twisted and turned his head out the window once more, the night sky suddenly looked more interesting, “Why continue to chase after someone when they deserve the moon, and you simply can’t give it to them,”

~✯~

The two women were silent as they looked at eachother, it was overwhelming to say the least. (Y/n) had expected to see a belt, her laptop and favorite belongings on full display in front of Nana awaiting her punishment. Instead she wasn't seeing any of that, her grandmother simply sat on the sofa with her hands in her lap staring up at her with worried eyes.

She stood in the living room, tears running down her face, her twists were in a disheveled bun from the night of events and her pajamas were dirty. Her Nana gave her a once over, spotting the scrap on the girl's knee that wasn't banaged. You’d think the girl would have noticed her injury, she guessed the adrenaline as she ran from the dogs made up for it.

A sharp inhale caused (Y/n) to flinch, much to her grandmother's dismay, “You don't have to be so tense, I talked with Ron on the phone. I know it wasn't your fault sweetheart,” The older woman stood up from the sofa and waved a hand gesturing towards the kitchen. “Let's fix you up, then you can tell me your side of the story.”

(Y/n) stood still in the doorway, a sharp needle of anxiety pierced her heart, “You're not mad? Or disappointed-?”

“Not mad, just worried. And the only way I would have been disappointed was if you hadn’t complied when told to-that would have put you in more danger.”

The two of them made their way to the kitchen, the light in the room seemed to calm her down for the most part but she was still unsettled from everything that had happened. She couldn’t forget the words the men had spoken to her in such a derogatory manner. (Y/n) normally would’ve rolled it off her shoulder, but something about tonight hit her like a storm.

‘We get girls like you in this seat all the time, star students by day-druggies by night’

‘Such a shame, we've got nothing but good things about you on file. It seems everyone has a devil inside them-’

‘What do you expect? Their kind is more susceptible to the life of crime anyway. Especially females, they love the rush of a thug being their man-ain’t that right girl?’

The second cop was so racist to a point where she didn't understand. The other one was treating her and Sam to the same treatment where the other was just so discriminatory. She's sure a good bath and drowning herself in movies would help, after all it wasn't like racism didn't exist; everywhere- even on cybertron that's how she learned about the subject anyway-especially with Nana's concerns of her going to middle school not knowing about the subject.

(Y/n) flinched as her grandmother cleaned the cut, she felt like a little girl again watching how she carefully cleaned the cut with peroxide before dabbing on some neosporin. If she wasnt so traumatized she'd be convinced she had just fallen off her bike after learning for the first time. Pop’s carrying her back in the house as she sucked on a popsicle through blurry eyes of frustration.

“You're lucky it was just grazed, nothing too deep,” Her Nana placed a kiss over the band-aid before putting the medical supplies away, “Now do you wanna tell me why you chased after that vehicle?”

The girl let out a shaky breath before starting the disgruntled tale. Her grandmother had fixed herself tea as she listened, sometimes she would interrupt and ask questions; ‘How tinted were the windows?’ ‘Could you see the driver?’ ‘Did the motor sound weird?’. It wasn’t long before she paused mid story when she accidentally spilled that they saw something, Nana gazed at her telling to continue, but her mouth became dry. Her grandmother didn't react well last time when she mentioned the insignia, how was she supposed to tell her about the robot she saw? She could hardly believe it herself from what her own eyes had captured.

“You-you wouldn’t believe me anyway-”

“Try me,” The cup was sat down, the kind gaze never wavering as she looked at her, “Me and your grandfather have seen and experienced many things (Y/n), that many people wouldn't believe unless they've seen it for themselves.”

A nervous laugh erupted from her tired lips, she hardly believed what she said next, “Sam's car turned into a giant robot.” She laughed again, but this time it was sad as tears rolled down.

Then it hit her, whatever it was-the anxiety never left this time instead it boiled. Her mind couldn't take it-she was so tired. The sight that she had seen tonight was the one thing she had wanted to see since she was so young. She promised to help them-to fight alongside them in the war and achieve many victories for their cause. And here she was years later, and she didn't know if she believed it, or if she had simply gone mad after her grandfather died.

Whether it was the lost part of innocence tonight or wishful thinking, she never wanted that escape again more in her life, she missed it. The effortless journals she’d write of going on adventures, fighting, living a life as that character everyone loved and wanted to be. All of it, was it pointless?

“-Sweetheart?”

“I'm going to bed-I-Im sorry for lying, Nana. We only saw the burglars abandon it, nothing more.”

(Y/n) left the kitchen her form shaking and disgruntled, as her Nana sat at the table watching her leave. The older woman sighed, rolling her eyes before getting up and heading towards her room. A liar is not what (Y/n) is, her Nana knew. What emerged from her granddaughter's mouth was nothing but the truth.

Robots-no Cybertronians are a special case.

Their whole family knew the truth except the girl in the other room, sometimes (GM/N) wondered why they never told her the truth before (GD/N) died. Sure, it was best to keep her innocent for a while but after what she saw tonight only means she'll soon be tossed into something she never bargained for.

Nana took the box from the high shelf from the right side of the closet where her late husband stored his belongings. The box was a bit worn and dusty, but the contents were safe. She hugged the box close to her chest and sent a quick prayer.

Afterall, her granddaughter was going to need it.

~✯~

To many teenagers work was a chore they hated to get up and get ready for this time of day, but as far as this aspiring protagonist goes, she loved waking up in the morning and heading to her family's library. With her finals being done in comparison to Sam, she's able to take up earlier shifts than normal. Luckily Grace was willing to switch morning shifts with her this morning much to her pleasure.

It was around nine am giving her enough time to organize the return pile by genre and author. It was a nice ritual to get her mind off of the past few days, don't get her wrong; there were moments she'd mess with the band aid on her knee, or simply sipped her coffee anxiously as a police car drove by the large window. She didn't want to think about that night, and if she did she only wanted to think about one thing; the cybertronian.

It started to feel wrong to call them a robot after all she knew what the species were called. It was no secret to her family about the stories and now-truth be told she started to gain the suspension. They were not just stories. She thought long and hard about how gentle her grandmother was with her yesterday, she kept glancing at her as if she had something to tell her-just don't know how. Not to even mention she sat by the phone expecting Sam to call her-why she didn't know. (Y/n) just wanted the reassurance that they were still friends-family even.

(Y/n) placed the last neat pile over near the horror section, it had been quite popular the past few weeks after they hosted that horror book night last october-it was her idea for a fundraiser and it was highly successful. The only takeaway was hunting people who forget to return them. In the corner of her eye she watched her Nana walk out of the break room with a steaming cup and a cinnamon roll from the bakery next door.

If She had been a bit more considerate of herself this morning she might have gotten one as well, they were nice and soft, the icing smooth and sickenly sweet if eaten too fast. She had to think long and hard about where she was going to eat lunch.

(Y/n) finished her morning ritual in the library with ease, once she was sure everything was in order she was able to help out at the front. Some were familiar faces, others were simply students from other schools returning books required for the curriculum of english. It was all worth it; after the familiar face strolled in her heart began to thump anxiously, whereas her hands were suddenly busy in her coils.

The black haired boy looked around for a moment before locking eyes with her own. It didn't take but a minute before he flashed a smile heading in her direction, the others in the library seemed irrelevant at the moment in comparison to the male who remembered her quick words that day. He looked nice; His shirt was black with vertical white and yellow stripes down his chest, and he wore black jeans with a subtle chain on the hip. His converse were a bit dirty like hers, but in her mind all shoes were meant to be replaced after a while.

“So this is the famous (L/n) library,” Bee smiled brightly, he did another once over causing her heart to warm with his excited eyes, “I’m impressed! You own the place so young?”

She laughed, “No, it's a family business! It’s been here for more than sixty-eight years.”

He whistled low, the charm he had was starting to take effect. She licked her lips nervously as he took a gander at the ceiling, it was a renaissance styled painting with her family's stories. There were many robots stylized to show which were good, evil, and simply trying to survive crossfire. His eyes seemed to land on one figure specifically, a large sword was in the figures hands, they were leaner with a female build with an angular frame. What stood out so much was the male human by her side.

Blue eyes went back on her form, something glimmered for a second before a carefree look took on his features. He paused for a moment, looking behind her, she followed his gaze seeing that Nana was looking at the boy. It was a moment where (Y/n) could see them talking with their eyes, another moment passed before her grandmother smiled, turning to her.

“(Y/n) who is this? A New friend?”

The girl bit her lip looking over at a Bee, he seemed to be awaiting her answer, “Y-yeah, we met at the park last Friday. He was very nice,”

The boy seemed to approve of her answer, “Hello my name is Bee,”

“Hello Bee, Im (Y/n)’s grandmother (G/N), but you can call me Nana,” Nana smiled at her new friend, placing the new stack of history books on the desk to be organized later. “You're actually in luck, my sweetheart is on break! She'd love to hang out with you a bit.”

“What? But-”

“That's great! I'd love to hear more about the paintings above and the histories about them.” The black haired smiled.

Her Nana pushed her from behind the desk quickly, urging her to talk to the boy before them. (Y/n) grabbed her grandfather's notebook from the top counter, this one was the history about the library, in chapter two it gives short summaries about the paintings above. She’d tell her friend about the summary and they tell him what she remembered about the story to the best of her ability.

(Y/n) led Bee to the comfortable part of the library, in the far corner there was a circular table with two arm chairs. It was her favorite spot for breaks. They both sat down, she couldn’t help but notice how the boy felt up and down with the fabric as if it were foreign to him.

“Is it not comfortable?” She questioned quietly with a frown. Bee flinched with her question, planching his hands on his knees.

“No-no it's very comfortable-im just not used to the feeling,” He answered with a bit of nerves in his tone. “I'm sorry if I've offended you-”

“No you haven't, I just wanted to make sure my new friend was comfortable,” She offered a kind smile to ease him of his worries.

She gave him a once over, he did clean up nicely from the last time she saw him, however she couldn’t help but pause at his neck. There was a prominent scare on the right side, she couldn't believe she had never seen it before. If there was one way of describing it, it would be a star that she gazed at each night before going to bed, it rested right near the vocal cords.

“So about the femme-female in the middle, what story do you have for her my dear storyteller?”

(Y/n) actually let out a giggle, “Storyteller? Is that my new nickname?”

Bee hummed, “No you deserve something better, but that's what you do right? You tell amazing stories and draw people in.”

“Well yes, but it's only fun doing it. It's not like it'll be a job for me to do in the near future.”

The boy cocked an eyebrow, which apparently has a slit, “Why not?”

“It simply won’t pay the bills. As an aspiring author or writer you have to be smart, you have to have another area of profession to feed yourself until everything takes off.”

He nodded in understanding, “I see. I wouldn’t rule this out of your life forever. You do such a good job as is,” He scooted the chair closer once the girl flipped through the pages of the book. He seemed more preoccupied with staring at her than the varying pictures. “So what are you gonna read to me today?”

(Y/n) smiled, “The summary of Merlin’s Female knight. I’ll have to get to know you more before I tell you the full tale. These are our family stories.”

“Seems fair,”

The girl inhaled before starting the summary.

“During the dark ages of Merlin, a variety of knights were introduced from the planet Cybertron. With these knights came a new era of acceptance with humans; they fought many wars and formed many alliances. However with the new era the knights acknowledged something needed to be changed with predacons as well. A few of these predacons were highly intelligent femmes pledging their loyalty to the cause. Three knights took the predacons as sparkmates, leading to the next generation. One of these femmes was named-“

(Y/n)s words faltered as she felt Bee's breath on the nape of her neck. She finally took notice of how close he’d gotten. His hand was close to hers, slightly brushing as she flipped the page again. She was reading the words in English, skipping over the cybertronian language she’s grown to learn.

A hand clasped hers urgently, she paused on the page she was about to skip, the pages were filled with the foreign symbols. She looked at him, his mouth was moving as he scanned the page.

‘He can read it?!’

“You can read it? How can you-“

“I-I’m sorry I have to go.” The boy removed his hand from hers, the warmth that enveloped her body was gone; she was so tempted to frown right there. She stormed after him, questions filling her mind with urgency. It’s been so long since she had someone who understood the language other than her grandparents.

“Wha-what? Why? What did I do-?” Bee cut her off by grabbing her hands in his once more. He stared at her, his eyes were worried and deeply struggled to communicate.

“You haven't done anything. (Y/n) I know I haven't done anything to deserve your trust ,but I’m going to need you to trust me,” His frown seemed almost natural on his face as if he was more accustomed to the expression. It spoke volumes to her. “I promise, to explain later sweetspark okay?”

The girl nodded a bit, flustered from the boy using the tongue it took her many years to accomplish. He had her trust by just speaking the language. With the nod of confirmation, he made haste out the front doors. When she tried to watch him leave, he was already gone.

It was two hours after the boy left and oddly enough (Y/n) felt as if a huge weight was lifted off her chest in regards to the events that have happened lately. She could still feel the warmth of his hands against hers as she turned the pages.

It felt as if the hands on their own could tell stories, along with the scar of the left side of his neck. The intimate thoughts she had earlier returned, her lips would graze each scar with sweet whispers; (Y/n) could hear his playful tone teasing her for being so bold, yet so sweet with his battle wounds.

She paused for a minute at the thought-when had she decided the scars came from battle or even a war. Something about her intuition was going off, whether it was the sinking feeling at the thought of him being so young on the front lines, or the fact he had to keep such secrets of his injuries to himself. (Y/n) shook her head before closing the book, deciding it was time to clock out.

Grace had already clocked in thirty minutes ago and was ready to take over. Now all she needed was her book bag and-. A loud commotion of a familiar voice suddenly filled the space of the library much to her dismay, she hoped it wasn't her Nana reminding her not to work overtime and to relax. However, when she turned the corner from one of the isles she was met with an erratic and panicked Witwicky.

“Sam! What the hell is your problem?! This is a library-!” (Y/n) was suddenly embraced by Sam, his form was shaky and he had labored breaths. She didn't get to ask questions about it, as she was already being led outside the library with her bookbag in hand.

“We’re being followed by the car,” Sam spoke quickly, he grabbed her bike from the rack and pushed it towards her. She finally took notice of the fact he was riding his mom's bike, normally she would’ve laughed but at the moment she sunk in the situation at hand.

“Did you just say the car is following us?” The question rolled off her tongue with ease, it sounded excited, no hint of worry in sight. It scared her afterwards with how quick she got happy with the thought of the alien following them.

“Yes-it followed me home! Then when I biked here to get away, it followed me-only it didn’t take the same route, it took a faster one and parked behind the building. It knows where you work!” He hopped on the bike, (Y/n) doing the same quickly with her own, as anxiety rolled down her spine.

The two teens biked down the street quickly, it wasn't long before the sound of a roaring engine sped up right behind them-the game of cat and mouse being reversed from the other day. The girl didn't dare to look back, Sam did enough for the both of them combined. Judging from the way her friend was panting in panic she could only assume the car was close. They both decided to bike through a park, Sam was so focused on his escape from the vehicle to notice the uneven concrete in the midst of their path.

It was a domino effect, Sam flipped himself landing on his back with a pained groan. (Y/n) let out a yelp and tried to swerve the bike in time but ended up losing her balance and falling off. She bit back a whine from the new found scrapes and bruises on her elbow and right knee.

“Sam? (Y/n)?” A familiar voice called out to the two of them. Sam looked to his right to find Mikeala and her friends looking at them. A few were giggling and whispering while looking in (Y/n)’s direction, none of them had ever seen the girl flawed before. The teen always made sure to be poised in all conditions, however seeing the girl fall off her bike nearing tears was something to boost their egos.

“Hi,” He mustered awkwardly with a groan, whereas (Y/n) simply waved a hand clutching her arm.

“Um t-that was uh-that was really…..awesome,” The girl managed to ease up the situation, “Are you two okay?”

“N-no I'm not-alright? I'm losing my mind. My car is chasing us,” Sam bit out straightening his bike. He looked over at (Y/n) taking in her injury, her steps faltered a bit due to the pressure placed on her knee. Sam quickly helped her onto her bike, his hands rested on her hips longer than they should’ve though. “We gotta go.”

Mikaela noticed (Y/n)’s look of anguish for a moment before turning back to her friends, “Hey I'm gonna catch up with you guys later.” About the time the brunet made it to her Vespa the two friends were already on the move once more.

(Y/n)’s balance swayed here and there, her head was throbbing and her elbow hurt to bend. She was lagging behind, the car seemed to notice, as each time it got to close it started to slow down its pace giving her enough time to bike through each light.

Thankfully they finally found a place to stop, (Y/n) led the way underneath the interstate bridges where many cars were parked. She gestured to Sam to follow her, they had found a nice hiding spot for a moment,watching the car speed past. The two friends looked at each other before letting out a breath of relief.

“Are you okay? How's your arm?” Sam gently grabbed the girl's arm, trying to extend it a bit to make sure nothing was broken. (Y/n) winced a bit, fighting back tears, it wasn't that bad, she was sure it'd feel better later.

The silence was soon interrupted by a familiar siren, shaking the girl to her core. Sam on the other hand was relieved, he whispered a soft ‘stay here’ before moving from their hiding spot. Her breathing became labored, the foreign chill of metal on her wrists became a new fear. They couldn’t be arrested again, they couldn't!

“Officer!Listen-” Sam let out a pained yelp as the car door hit him, knocking him off the bike with one fell swoop. (Y/n) gasped, she suddenly forgot how to breath suddenly as she watched her friend wither on the ground.

“Offi-Listen to me! Thank god! My friend and I have had the worst day ever! We've been followed here-on my mothers and her grandmother's bike! Right?! And My cars right there-and it's been following me-us here! so-so get out of the car!” Right after Sam slammed his hands on the police vehicle it started to drive forward, knocking Sam off his feet and onto the ground. “Woah stop-!Okay-Okay!I'm sorry! Im Sorry! I'm sorry I hit your car!”

“Stop!” (Y/n) raced from her hiding spot, she tried to step between Sam and the vehicle. She kicked the hood showing she had enough of the abuse of power displayed. She however paused once the vehicle's headlights popped out, sharp metal sticking out around the lights sending a chill down her body. She soon looked at the side of the car, her body running cold; ‘to punish and enslave’.

“Run. Sam run!” She grabbed her friend, helping him on his feet; it was just in time too, she soon heard the sound of shifting metal behind her. The rise of bile was heavy in her throat as she pushed Sam to run faster.

“Oh Shit! Oh Shit!” Sam screamed as he made a turn through the rubble of trash. “What the hell is that?!”

“A Decepticon! Here on earth?!” The girl cried to herself, she was pretty sure her subconscious mind answered for her. She had never seen a Decepticon in person, but the way the con was chasing them with a threatening aura she was so sure.

Before she could get them to make another turn she felt herself flying through the air before making impact with the windshield of a car. She heard Sam scream her name, only for him to fall on top of her a second later. She made a move to push the boy off only to scream instead once the con pulled out a chainsaw for a hand, slamming it on the side of the car.

Out of all the questions she had running through her mind as to why the con wanted them only one was answered, and it was one of the most threatening ways of answering.

“Are you username Ladiesman217?! And are you Storyteller (Y/n) (L/n)?!”

The two teens looked at eachother frightened, “Yea”

“Where are the glasses! And the books of Luna One!”

[shallowseeker]

I think it was you had this meta about how dean as when he's a leader has to be like a doctor that does surgery on his own family. This image stuck with me! I looked but tumblr won't let me find it. Was this yours? Do you know it off the top of your head?

I think you're talking about this? TFW are fascinating disaster parents and I dig it. There's a snippet at the end that compares Dean to a doctor operating on family.

///////

SNIPPET:

Dean craves safety and being protected, but that’s somewhat incompatible with protecting everyone

Dean never got to be valued and protected growing up, so he secretly craves that. But Sam is correct in his psycho-analysis. Dean’s neurosis is wanting to protect everyone, and this is often fundamentally, violently incompatible with letting your family fight alongside you.

All things considered, Dean rarely resorts to going lone wolf, like with the Mark of Cain. Despite his discomfort, he tries to marshal everyone under one roof, and that often results in a degree of my-way-or-the-highway type rigidity as a means of neurotically trying to keep everyone safe.

In fact, Cas often avoids this dilemma altogether by going lone wolf. (They all do this on occasion, but Cas's background as a soldier is especially tired to this. Mary, as a child soldier, has this issue, too. Jack has the same issue in AU earth when he tries to run away to confront Michael on his own.)

................ When the fights get too BIG (as they often do in Supernatural), Dean cannot ensure the safety of his loved ones, and he freaks the fuck out. When Dean can neither protect nor stop family/comrades from going into danger, you get these coping mechanisms:

Benching the player: “Wait, you might get hurt, so I’m gonna say that I don’t trust you to be in that fight at all so maybe you won't!" Sometimes, this need to kick people to the bench comes out as a barb: “You’re an incompetent baby who does stupid things. Baby in a trenchcoat. You’re an idiot. To Jack: You’re 98 pounds soaking wet.” etc etc.

Fatalism: “I’m powerless / this whole fight is meaningless / there’s nothing we can do / we have no choice.” All members of TFW slip into this in different ways. Giving up is a natural part of SPN, something that each family member goes through depending on the psychological wound of the moment.

Denial: Other times, Dean downplays the danger, which can result in meanness and occasionally a lack of support/neglect.

With regards to Cas, we see an even more colorful option deployed and one of my all-time favorites: goading him into being stronger. It's a barbed version of, “You can do it, Cas!”

SAM: Tell me again why you don’t just grab Adam and shazam the Hell out of there. CAS: Because there are at least five angels in there. DEAN: So? You’re fast. CAS: They’re faster. (CAS takes off his tie and wraps it around his palm. Dean looks on worriedly. ///Aside: Hilariously, two seconds later Dean is like WAIT YOU'RE GONNA TAKE ON FIVE ANGELS? :((((( )

Cas doesn't fit in his pre-conceived notions of anything

In early days, Dean is incredibly spun out and confused by Cas, who he wants to be protected by and protect. In the beginning, in season 4, he’s still wanting to think of Cas as invincible.

Post-Cas’s first death, Dean tries to pin him down as brother, and at times he even infantilizes Cas as he evolves into needing to protect him. 

But bottom line, he just can’t make Cas FIT. He’s a comrade, but there are extra layers to their relationship that get confusing real fast. We get these Dean coping mechanisms in seasons 5-6 alone!

(A) Goad him into being more powerful and better so he’s safe

(B) insult him to underscore that he’s in danger and maybe shouldn’t be fighting at all

© go full denial and pretend the situation isn’t that serious blah-blah Raphael

I think in season 8, Dean figures out what those extra layers are, and in season 9, they deal with rejecting each other by accident, and in season 10, they’re respectively dealing with their past traumas and baggage. Then, in seasons 11-12, they’re grappling with the whole embarrassing and terrifying fiasco of wanting to commit to each other.

But to my point about cosmic family members, there’s this simmering tension concerning the danger of celestial power running throughout. A feeling of:

“Dude you’re kinda scary and I instinctually know this because I’m a seasoned hunter. But I’m gonna keep ignoring that gut instinct because reasons.”

And confusingly, there’s also this feeling:

“I can’t really protect myself from you, since you’re stronger than me. And I’m not strong enough to protect you from your enemies… or stop you from leaving.

See this quote from season 8:

CAS: See, it wasn’t that I was weak. I was stronger than you. I pulled away. Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn’t want to be saved. DEAN (distraught): What the Hell are you talking about?

Dean was SO upset that Cas let go. That he didn’t even try. (Dean and Cas often give up, but they become unhinged if the other partner gives up.) For someone like Dean, whose instinct is to squirrel away his family in a protective underground bunker? That’s a tension that feels devastating.

///

As a main character/battle commander, Dean knows that tactically, Jack and Cas will take on big, scary responsibilities by virtue of being, as season 15’s Belphegor so eloquently puts it, “the muscle.”

…and this is in direct conflict with Dean’s baseline need to protect everyone.

He doesn’t want to gamble with them at all. (See season 12's "We gambled with Cas, and now Amara's got him!") He wants to say, “you’re more than a weapon,” (13x14 Good Intentions script) and Cas wants to tell him, “in times of peace, I can be.”

DEAN: Cas, you’re more than a weapon– CAS: In times of peace I can be, but if (war) is coming…

....

TFW and the burden of leading

This, at times, makes Dean a rigid, unhinged leader. That’s because he’s too often sending his own fam into battle. And who wouldn’t be unhinged about that? There’s a reason we don’t operate on our own family members in a medical setting, for example.

When Dean is a leader, he can be like a dog with rabies foaming at the mouth, backed into a corner. It’s the worst.

Sam, on the other hand, fares pretty well as a leader, because he values independence so highly, and that kinda works for him. (He’s pragmatic and he dissociates very effectively.)

[hell-sam]

"I..." His voice was so soft, trailing off into nothingness as his damp eyes briefly shut themselves. The permanent reds staining his eyelids grew brighter, like powdered eyeshadow that intensified in color with each tear shed. As Lucifer crouched before him, Hell Sam opened his hazel irises once more to look into blue ones.

Nick... Lucifer... How he loved them both. As small as he was compared to the rest of Sam's entire being, Hell Sam's emotions were intense and never-ending. The torture in the Cage along with the rare, tender moments between two lost and broken men have made this Sam so close with his feelings and convictions. It was so much, too much, and not all of it even related to Lucifer and his currently-permanent home...

Yet he couldn't deny how changed he was. How very much like Sam his personality remained - while opening a small door to something else. Something forbidden and yet... something that was always there anyway. Hell Sam kept peering into Lucifer's eyes as his brows arched even further, his expression laxing and shoulders loosening. Slender fingers reached from the archangel's thigh to his shirt, where Nick's heart laid, the mangled nails trying to clutch at the fabric but they were all too short.

There was no fear in those eyes. No hatred, no malice, no resentment and no lies. Hell Sam only looked lost, hurting, and so damn mournful. The glow from the wounds in his wrists intensified as his fingers spread across Lucifer's chest, his lips parting to allow a shaken exhale out.

"I am, yes." He admitted, swallowing a lump in his throat. Hell Sam parted his lips again to speak, choking his words out. "I... I am the piece of Sam's soul, the part of him who bound and swore itself to you. As a sacrifice... to spare the rest of humanity..." A weak sob forced him to take a stop, one of his hands moved itself to cup Lucifer's cheek in his palm. With a quivering lip he tried to push on with the final admission.

"And as a genuine, consenting, truthful... eager Yes."

As to what he wants... What is he asking for? Hell Sam forced himself to breathe as he lowered his head, no longer capable of looking Lucifer in the eye. The reason was complicated, the layers multiple and messy. But he would answer simplest he could.

"I'm asking for forgiveness, because I cannot do this. I cannot be yours. Not in the way you want me, not in the way I want you, not in the way that would hurt anyone else, ever again. I -" Hell Sam bit hard on his bottom lip, forcing himself to stay put together. "I am but a fraction of the soul... the rest of Sam does not abide, too hurt, too scared, and I don't have it in me to deny him that. He is just in his feels, he is just in his perception even if I wish it weren't so, you've hurt him - hurt us so terribly... But I just wish it weren't so. I wish I could help somehow, Lucifer."

@hell-sam

《✧》   ━━    Lucifer's   eyes   widened,   a   flicker   of   genuine   surprise   crossing   his   features.   He   hadn't   expected   this   reaction   from   Sam,   this   raw   vulnerability.   For   a   moment,   he   was   transported   back   to   the   Cage,   to   those   rare   moments   of   understanding   that   had   passed   between   them   amidst   the   chaos   and   pain.

❛   Sam...   ❜   Lucifer's   voice   was   barely   above   a   whisper,   his   hand   instinctively   moving   to   touch   Sam's   face,   but   he   hesitated,   letting   it   hover   in   the   air   between   them.   ❛   Which   part   of   you   is   this   ?   The   part   that   remembers   everything   ?   ❜

He   crouched   down,   bringing   himself   to   Sam's   level,   his   eyes   searching   the   human's   face   intently.   The   skepticism   from   moments   before   melted   away,   replaced   by   a   mixture   of   curiosity   and   something   that   could   almost   be   mistaken   for   hope.

❛   You   say   'please,   ❜   Sam,   but   what   are   you   asking   for   ?    Lucifer's   voice   was   gentle,   a   stark   contrast   to   his   usual   mocking   tone.   ❛   What   does   this   piece   of   you   want   ?   ❜

His   hand   finally   made   contact   with   Sam's   cheek,   cool   fingers   brushing   away   the   tears   that   continued   to   fall.   The   touch   was   surprisingly   tender,   reminiscent   of   those   rare,   quiet   moments   in   the   Cage   when   the   lines   between   torturer   and   victim   had   blurred,   and   they   were   just   two   broken   souls   seeking   solace   in   each   other's   understanding.

[nickgerlich]

The Eyes Have It

It’s always fun for me to ponder the future, especially now that, at an age well beyond the halfway point, these musings are all about what my kids and future grandkids will encounter. When I was a kid, I think my contemporaries and I all secretly hoped the Jetsons would come fully true in our lifespan.

I’m not so sure that will come completely true, but we are inching forward. As for my kids and grandkids, I think the odds are pretty good they will see it all play out.



Until then, we have progress in fits and starts. Even though we see technological change all around us every day, there are still missteps being made, and for every two steps forward, often there’s an inch moving back. Or more.

The changes to come will be focused in large part on retail and food service, the brick and mortar structures we still use in large degree. Automation is the future, starting with ordering kiosks, food prep, and table-top payment stations in restaurants, to in-store robots that conduct menial tasks otherwise reserved for unskilled labor.

A recent report says that use of in-store robots will double between now and 2025, which by then will find 70% of stores utilizing robots for cleaning and inventory purposes. This will allow retailers to redirect employees into more customer-centric positions, or, simply eliminate them entirely.

But as I said, there  have been some missteps, most notably at Walmart. The retail behemoth had been testing large beeping robots that cleaned the floor, as well as did modest inventory duties. Unfortunately for Walmart, the test did not meet their expectations, and the program was eliminated in November 2020. The company decided to deploy those robots to its Sam’s Club stores instead, where perhaps its ability to track inventory—in a store with far fewer items and much larger forward-facing displays—would be more effective.

I have encountered those robots in both Walmart and Sam’s, and they do get your attention with their incessant beeping. For a moment, you may actually feel like the Jetsons have indeed come true. They won’t mow you over, but you do need to pay attention lest you turn quickly and walk into one.

Critics will of course be concerned about potential job losses. This happens every time there is a tech advance, but it also brings with it new jobs to manage and maintain the technology. I cannot speak to whether it is a 1-for-1 trade, but there will definitely be some displacement from jobs once staffed by humans.

And it is a trade we should be in favor of regardless. I have seen the extreme opposite in mainland China, with citizens out sweeping streets with handmade brooms before dawn. Yes, it is make-work, but it is a task that could be done by machinery. Mr brother reported seeing similar activity in Bangkok Thailand a couple of weeks ago. Everyone has a job, I suppose, but it seems to be a rather inefficient way of doing so.

By now you might be wondering why inventories are not tracked seamlessly because of bar code scanning at the checkout stand. Walmart has used this for decades, and it allowed them to develop and launch their own Just In Time system of reordering and deliveries. Aside from COVID and other related supply chain issues, rare is the day when you see a stock-out at Walmart.



But shrinkage—that is, shoplifting by customers or pilferage by employees—is not accounted for at the checkout. This number is the gap between sales and how many items actually left the shelf or, in the case of employees stealing from the stock room, never even made it to the shelf.

While Walmart had some misgivings about their fleet of robots, I suspect the recent study will play out. We will see ever more robots in retail settings, especially larger stores. I wouldn’t doubt for a minute the possibility of surveillance as well, especially since these devices already have multiple cameras onboard.

The bottom line is this: retailers are always looking for ways to run their operations more efficiently, which is code for minimizing labor expense. As I have said many times, unless there is equipment failure, robots don’t call in sick, complain about working conditions, or go on strike for higher wages. They just do as they are told.

I’m pretty sure the writers of the Jetsons never quite envisioned a future society in which we have concerns about labor costs or surveillance. They no doubt saw their animated robots as making everyone’s lives more convenient. It’s not that simple these days. I am glad to have a ringside seat to all the progress. I am not in any hurry for the future to get here. I just wish it would more closely mirror what I saw on television when I was growing up


Dr “Dream A Little Dream“ Gerlich

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