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a-scary-lack-of-common-sense · 4 months ago

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More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

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+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

#i only have the Paris and Korean subways as frame reference so i have no idea what american subways look like #just imagine the paris subway system- i heavily used it as a reference to draw and write these since it's #the only subway that I know AND looks 1980-ish enough to pass #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls au #<-ig???#there are mirrors in subways right- I've seen a lot of curved wall length mirrors at subway stations #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #stanley's sketchbook #tw liminal space #tw horror #<- I mean eh- my horror writing skills is sub par at best #cats #tw scopophobia #tw staring #on the other hand- stanley being friends with street cats!! so cute <33 #you can visibly SEE in the fic where I completely lost my grip on the story from 'sweet story about cats' to 'oh my god what the fuck'#my art

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choccy-milky · 7 months ago

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💖🎊the end, & thank you for reading!!🎊💖

im so thankful for all the support i got on this story, and i wouldn't have finished it if not for all of you, and for the love i got for seb and clora. so thank you again for giving me the motivation to write this 600k+ monster, and to see it through to the very end. LOVE YALL💖🫶 (ao3/wattpad)

#THAAATS ALL FOLKS #so surreal that after over a year i wont have the thought in the back of my mind of 'oh i need to start on the next chap soon'#its freeing but also empty🥲 im sure ill still have moments where im like CRAP I NEED TO UPDATE--oh wait nvm LOL #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian x mc #clora clemons #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #choccyart #my first ever longfic i managed to finish... all my other attempts in other fandoms i fizzled out at like 60k or 70k words #all thanks to yall supporting my brainrot 🙏🙏whether it was a year ago or a day ago🙏#there are some regular readers i had in the VERY beginning that i still think about BAHAHA......hope theyre doing good #and if they ever remember my fic and think about reading it again AT LEAST ITS ACTUALLY COMPLETE AND GOOD TO GO WOO #i feel so accomplished...SIDEQUEST COMPLETE😤

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dapper-lil-arts · 8 months ago

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I'm not the kind of person that's like "Here let me fix the canon" usually but like holy crap gen 5 implied a lot of messed up shit about our hero Twilight Sparkle lmao

#It almost says something about the dangers of undertakin responsabilities alone #the nuanced idea of putting heroes on a pedestal being inherently self destructive #hell its kind of funny that Sunny idolizing her is objectively wrong #her legacy was a house of cards!#but I digress #I hope this post isnt swinging a bat at a hornet's nest #but y'know #this is also related to my fics lmao #bc of course #twilight sparkle #sunset shimmer #gen 4 #gen 5 #pony posting #mlp gen 4 #my little pony #friendship is magic #Also like. Celestia herslef regretted banishing luna #and shes happier ruling WITH a partner #meanwhile twilight is like “Ok im not even on my thirties time to undertake all of this”#bonkers! Nuts!#its almost like. entirely accurate #entirely purposefull that her rule would fail completely #Wouldn't it be fucking sick for sunset to try again #to give it another shot!!!#now that shes better #changed for the better by none other than twi #i wrote fics of this lmaooo #fanfiction #writing stuff

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ebongawk · 2 years ago

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"“I haven’t accepted anything yet. I have until May, and... I wasn’t sure what we were doing.” “I don’t have plans that aren’t ‘Follow Chrissy Cunningham to the Edge of the Earth’.”"

we're a lie (you and i) by makeshiftcandy chapter 16/16 (now complete)

#hellcheer fic #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #eddissy #chrissy cunningham #stranger things #complete #complete fanfiction #>100k

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 18 days ago

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Magic Lessons p.3 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Bill returns from Cairo, but doubt began to creep into your mind during his absence, dredging up old wounds for the both of you.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, mischievious twins, pleasuredom!Bill, angst angst angst angst, mentions of Fenrir’s attack and the war, mentions of divorce, some rough oral and piv, slight breeding kink, possessive!Bill, fluffy HEA

AN: this is now a completed series! yay!

part one | part two | masterlist

It was strange sitting in Bill’s office without him, curled up in the armchair he devoured you in, book open in your lap. You'd been trying for an hour to decipher his notes on a particular curse, tracing the small, angular letters with tired eyes, but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of its writer to absorb any of it.

Bill had been in Cairo for 12 days, six hours, and nine minutes, every tick of the clock like a barb in your skin, leeching black, poisonous doubt into your blood.

Would he still want you when he returned? Will the time away give him clarity to how insane you both were acting? Would you be reduced to a fling? No longer desirable now that you've been flung?

The time, the space, was making you second guess yourself, second guess him. What you were doing was reckless. Stupid, even. Risking the future you'd imagined for yourself since you were a first year at Hogwarts. You’d be a stain on Bill’s impressive career, and the thought of him eventually coming to resent you, regret you, for possibly ruining a decade of hard work…it made you physically ill.

Could you do that to him? To yourself?

But fuck, you wanted him desperately, the ache for him like a hole in your lungs. You found yourself spending longer and longer hours in his office, craving his presence, his aura, and the sanctuary of his space was the closest you could come to replicating that.

You sighed and set the notes aside for the night, the sun having set some hours before. With unhurried movements, you packed up your belongings and tidied his office on the off chance he returned the following day. You wanted it to be presentable for him, leaving no evidence that you'd been holed up there for nearly two weeks, besides the stack of completed work.

You took the Floo Station to the nearest one by your flat like you always did, ready to wash off your makeup, get into your pajamas, and order some Chinese food. Rain was coming down in sheets, wind buffeting against your coat, but when you rounded the corner towards your flat, the bulk of a man standing in the rain in front of your door stopped you in your tracks.

It took less than a heartbeat for you to realize who it was.

“Bill?” You gasped, and he lifted his head, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, copper hair pulled back in a messy bun.

He took a step towards you. “Sorry, I—”

You launched yourself at him, completely overcome with relief, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You're home,” you whispered, relaxing fully when his arm looped around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest under the safety of the umbrella.

“I'm home,” he sighed, nuzzling into the top of your head. He smelled of train cars and petrichor, with lingering traces of cologne applied hours earlier, and you wanted to breathe it like air. “Can we go inside?” He asked, settling his hand on your hip with a soft squeeze.

“Yes! Merlin, sorry,” you giggled, a twinge of nerves in your stomach at the thought of having Bill inside your little flat.

You reluctantly pulled away and riffled through your bag for your keys. Bill's arm slid around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he nosed into the curve of your shoulder. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your hands growing so clumsy to nearly dropped your key while you inserted it into the lock.

“Missed you, little bird,” he mumbled, pressing a tender kiss to your pulse.

“I missed you too,” you said, leaning your head against his. You managed to get the door open and Bill released you so you could move inside, and he closed the door behind you both, collapsing the umbrella and setting it by the door. “So, how were things in Egypt?” You asked, hanging your bag on the hook.

Bill slid your rain-soaked jacket off your shoulders, down your arms, his touch feather light, and hung it up as well. “You really want to talk about work? That's where you just came from, isn't it?” He said while shirking his own coat.

You flushed, embarrassed that he saw through you so easily. “It is,” you admitted. “And as long as you're alright, I don't want to talk about work.”

He smirked, reaching out to cradle your face in his hand, the other settling on your hip. “I'm perfect now, love. Although, we’re going to have a discussion about your work-life balance.”

You snorted. “Really? William ‘Never-Takes-A-Day-Off’ Weasley is going to lecture me on working too much?”

“Backtalk, too? Have you forgotten your manners while I was away?” He backed you against your kitchen island, lips a breath away from yours.

“No, sir,” you hummed, barely suppressing a grin as days worth of pent up desire came surging forth, your pulse racing between your legs.

He sighed, breath fanning against your cheek. “Merlin, you sound so pretty.” His hand on your hip moved around your back, pressing your bodies together. “Haven't felt anything soft in days,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

“Take me to bed?” You asked, brushing an escaped strand of hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

“Thought you'd never ask,” he chuckled and scooped you up into his arms—

Knock knock!

“Open up! We brought pizza!” The twins serenaded through the door, and Bill swiveled his head to look at you.

“Oh fuck, I completely forgot.” You squirmed and Bill set you back on your feet, though he didn't relinquish his hold. “We planned a movie night.”

“Tell them to bugger off,” he huffed, bending down to kiss your neck.

“Bill, that's rude!”

“Don't care,” he muttered, lapping at your pulse, and your mind began to drift, lost in the feeling of him.

“We’re getting soaked out here!” George called.

“Don't make me break in!” Fred warned, knocking with a little more force. “I'd hate to do it again!”

“Again?” Bill's head snapped towards the door.

“Just—fuck, get in the closet!” You tried to push Bill towards your bedroom, but only managed to move him a few steps.

“Why did he break in before?” He asked, fighting a smile at your helpless attempt to move him.

“I locked myself out! I'll get rid of them, just, please get in there!” You pushed your shoulder into his sternum, peddling your legs like cartoon character.

He sighed, taking a step back and nearly sending your sprawling onto the floor. “Ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Bill chuckled and walked the rest of the way into your bedroom at the same moment you heard George cast alohomora.

The twins barged in, wands raised as if you were in peril.

“What took you so bloody long?”

“Why are you just standing there?”

“Whose coat is that?”

“I, actually, um—” you wracked your brain for an excuse.

“Darling, is there a man in this flat?” George asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Uh—yes!” you whispered back. “I met him at work and we hit it off. I'm sorry, I forgot about our plans.”

George scoffed, a teasing smirk on his face. “So you'd rather have a shag then hang out with us?”

“Y’know, if you needed to blow off a little steam—” Fred started when something crashed in your closet, making the three of you jump.

“Is he…in your closet?” George raised an eyebrow.

“No, no! That's, uh—”

Fred pushed past you, striding into your room.

“Fred!” You snapped, trying to grab him, but he batted your hand away. “Just please, go.”

“You sure you know this bloke well enough to be here alone with him?” Fred asked, moving closer to the closet, the humor having drained from his voice.

“What's his name?” George asked. “Maybe Bill’s mentioned him?”

“It’s, uh—”

“You don't even know his name?” Fred whisper-shouted, glaring at you with a strange mix of pride and concern.

“No, I do! He, uh—”

“Are you okay?” George asked, his brothers concern reflected in his face. He placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You're shaking, love.”

“Did this prick scare you?” Fred asked, turning his attention back to the closet door.

“No! Merlin’s sake, please just go! I'm fine!”

“Hey, fuckface, what are you doing in her closet?” Fred banged on the door, and you died a little inside.

Silence echoed around the flat.

“Open the door, mate,” Fred ordered, and George pulled you a little closer to his chest.

More silence. You had no doubt Bill had apparated, and the twins were about to think you were insane.

“Three, two—” Fred yanked open the door, revealing his older brother standing in the middle of your closet, his arms crossed over his chest. “B-Bill?” Fred stammered, taking a step back.

“You two have some fucking nerve,” Bill growled, and the twins scattered as he dashed out of the closet after them.

“We're sorry! We didn't know!” George called, vaulting over your couch.

“What the fuck, y/n?” Fred shouted, diving under your bed.

“Would it kill you two to mind your own fucking business?” Bill dragged Fred out by his ankles, his little brother desperately clawing at the ground.

You'd find it funny if it weren't for your secret being out, the very thing that kept you up every night for the last two weeks.

“You're the one fucking our friend!” George shouted, effectively diverting attention from his twin.

Bill turned on him, throwing one of your pillows at his head. “I'm not fucking her!”

Fred scurried behind your bedroom door. “Then why are you here so late!”

“And hiding in like a ghoul in the closet!”

“Can we just calm down—” You tried.

“I just got back from—come here, you little shit! I just got back from Cairo and needed to check in with her—George!”

“Bullshit!” Fred countered. “You're fucking our girl!”

“Hey!”

Bill froze, turning his head to peer at Fred, pillow aloft.

“Your girl?” Bill challenged, and you groaned.

“See! I knew it! Oh fuck—” Bill chucked the pillow at Fred and he apparated at the same instant, the pillow flying right through where he was standing and landing on your bed.

“Fucker,” Bill bit.

“Congratulations on your boning! Bye!” George chirped, apparating too.

Bill sighed, turning to you.

“Couldn't keep your cool, huh?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“They won't say anything,” he said, smoothing back his hair.

“I know, it's just—” Tendrils of anxiety wrapped around your throat, tightening until you were silenced.

“What, love?” He asked, taking a careful step towards you, sensing your mounting anxiety.

“What are we doing? This is—”

Bill was quiet for a moment. “You said you wanted this,” he murmured, a sharpness around the edges of his words.

“I do!” You cried, frustrated with yourself. “But that doesn't mean we should be doing it. Bill, if it got out that you were screwing your intern, your career would be over. And so would mine, before it even started. I mean, hiding from our coworkers, from your family, it’s just…”

His jaw flexed, shoulders squaring. “So you want to end things here? Go back to before we—” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is that what you really want?”

Tears burned your eyes, nausea churning in your stomach. “I don't know—”

“I don't believe you,” he growled. “The way you look at me, the way you were holding me not even ten minutes ago—” his voice cracked. “I don't believe that you want to end this.”

“Maybe it isn't what I want, but it's what we should do. You know that, Bill,” you said through the lump in your throat, voice pinched and small. “We need to stop before this goes too far.”

He looked like you'd slapped him. “What do you mean ‘too far’?”

You turned away from him, tears coming in earnest now. He stalked into your bedroom and caught your elbow, spinning you back around.

“Tell me what you meant,” he pleaded, pulling your hands away from you face, your eyes wet and puffy with tears.

“You know what I meant!” You shouted, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“So even with the potential for…that, you’re still going to end this?” He asked, his voice low. “That isn't worth it to you?”

You couldn't answer him, you arms wrapped around yourself as you trembled, biting back the sob on the tip of your tongue.

“Answer me,” he repeated, softening his voice.

“What if you resent me? What if you—” your voice fractured, brittle with shame and fear. “What if you regret me?”

He leaned down, forcing you to meet his eye. “There's a lot of things I regret on my life,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But I never thought I would get the chance to love someone again, not after Fenrir. Not after the war, not after the divorce—” he drew a shaky inhale.

Guilt dogged at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

“There's nothing I wouldn't risk to have that chance again. I would give up everything, my career, my house, all of it. And regardless of what happens between us, I'll never regret you.” He cupped your face again, and this time you allowed him, eyes swimming with unshed tears, your heart mending and breaking all at once.

“Bill, I—”

“Don’t say anything else. I want you to sleep on it,” he said, straightening. “Take the day off tomorrow, too. Then you can tell me what you want to do, and we'll do it.” His voice was firm, but not unkind, a tone of finality that had you nodding in acceptance. “Goodnight, love.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, then released you, apparating away before you could blink.

You were left stunned and alone in your torn apart bedroom, reeling from Bill’s words. Growing weak, your knees folded beneath you and you collapsed onto the floor, a sob bursting from your chest.

Such a coward, you scolded yourself. Of course he's worth the risk.

You wanted or rush over to Shell Cottage and tell him, beg him to forgive you for being so stupid, but he told you to sleep on it. To be sure of whatever answer you gave him. So you shirked your work wear and climbed into bed, squeezing your eyes shut, and prayed for sleep to take you swiftly.

It didn't. You laid awake for hours, until finally, at two o’clock in the morning, you couldn't stand it any longer.

You pulled on your lucky pair of jeans and jumper, washed away your smudged makeup, and apparated to Shell Cottage.

When you landed sprawled in his yard instead of standing on his front porch, it occurred to you that surprising the Curse-breaker in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm was a stupid idea, but it was too late now.

Bill wrenched open the door, hair rumpled and dressed only in sweatpants, his wand aimed at you, green wisps of magic dancing at the end of it. Thunder rolled overhead, a crack of lightning making you jump.

“Bill,” you gasped, stepping into the light of his front porch, and he nearly dropped his wand.

“Y/n? What the fuck are you—”

“I'm sorry about what I said.” You jumped headfirst into your apology, needing to get it out before it drowned you. “I was scared and stupid and I didn't mean it. I want you, no matter the risks. I can't let you—I can't let this go by without trying.” Tears will spilling down your cheeks again, mixing with the rain, your words coming out in hiccuping gasps. “I'd never forgive myself for being too cowardly to try.”

Bill bound down the steps, grabbing you by the throat and silencing you with a savage, bruising kiss. He kissed you the way a drunkard takes to a keg, ravenous and greedy. You could taste whisky on his tongue, smoke on his breath, but it only made you kiss him harder, open yourself wider for him to devour.

“Inside,” he gruffed when you broke the kiss to breathe. “Now.”

You obliged, hurrying up the slick steps with him on your tail. The cottage was cozy and dimly lit, a fireplace roaring in the corner and the moon serving as the only illumination. There were books everywhere, piles of blankets and shelves lined with trinkets, art hung on every wall.

Taking advantage of your distraction, Bill scooped you up bridal-style, one arm notched under your knees, the other around your mid-back. You gasped in surprise, but quickly settled into the warmth of his chest, leaning your head against his bare shoulder to kiss along his rain-damp clavicle.

“I told you to sleep on it,” he murmured, carrying you across the living room and up a set of stairs.

“Couldn't,” you hummed, licking a jagged scar on his shoulder. “Not without fixing things.”

“Neither could I,” he said, nudging open a door with his foot and carrying you across the threshold. It was his bedroom, decorated with even more of his findings and a giant four-poster bed made of solid wood, the quilt a thick woven masterpiece that you only got to admire for a second before he was dropping you onto it and shirking your wet clothes.

He paused, muttering an incendio to light the fire place, and you sat up, head level with his sternum. Hesitantly, you kissed a long his abdomen, tracing the dips and swells of his muscles, his scars with your lips.

He hummed low in his chest, petting a hand over your damp hair. “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice silken.

“Nothin’,” you mumbled, licking along one his scars, growing bolder as he placated you with scalp scratches. “Wanted to touch you.”

He chuckled. “Been wanting you to touch me—” he groaned when you shifted your body to lay down on the bed, kissing along the grooves of his hips, teasing the edge of his waistband with your fingers. “Baby, you don't have to—”

You cut him by licking a stripe over the hard bulge of his cock, feeling it twitch and swell through the fabric. You nearly moaned at the feel of him, thick and long and warm, and your pussy purred, fluttering around nothing.

“You want my cock, darling?” He asked, gently sweeping your hair into a ponytail, the strands held together by his fist.

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes.

He tsked, smirking. “I suppose I could indulge you for a bit.” With his free hand, he reached into the front his pants, freeing himself. He wrapped his hand around the base, a pearl of precum squeezing from the swollen tip.

You caught the salty morsel with your tongue, kitten licking the underside of him. He tasted fucking divine, velvety smooth and masculine, and your jaw fell open on its own accord, eager to take more of him.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, feeding the first few inches into your mouth before retreating, patting your tongue with his cockhead when it chased him past your lips. “Fuck, look at you. So eager to please.”

He eased himself back into your mouth, holding still so you could move at your own pace, bobbing your head in slow, sloppy movements, savoring the heavy feel of him on your tongue.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from his lips, his hand tugging a bit harder at your roots. He started moving you up and down his length, his hips rocking forward, thrusting gently into your mouth. You moaned around him, fisting the sheets below you as a flood of arousal made you pussy throb.

“Oh, darling. You want me to be rough, don't you?” He hummed, pulling his hips back until just the tip rested on your tongue.

Your eyes lifted to his and you nodded the best you could. Please, please use me.

“Your safe word is ‘hex’, okay?”

You nodded again, pleading with your eyes.

He thrust back into your mouth, his fist keeping your head in place as he forced his cock as deep as it could go. He set a punishing pace, fucking your face with every ounce of the brutality you knew he kept locked up right in his chest, hidden from the world.

Now, hidden from everyone but you.

You both needed to let go of control, to surrender to the truth in your heart, and with each other, it was starting to seem not only possible, but safe.

“Such a good fucking slut, gagging on my cock—this what you wanted? To be pushed to your limits?” Bill clutched your jaw with his other hand, feeling the strain in your muscles, the force of him stretching your mouth wider, and he groaned, head tipping back on his shoulders. “I'm gonna mold that pretty little throat in the shape of my cock, yeah? You're mine. This throat is mine.”

You could only whimper, taking every savage thrust like it was a gift from god. More than happy to worship at the altar of Bill Weasley.

He withdrew suddenly, leaving you gasping for air, a thread of drool on connecting you. He craned your head back, lifting you until your hands left the mattress, back bent like a doll.

“This is it now, you understand? I won't go back.” His voice was rough with intensity, eyes shining with sincerity, vulnerability despite his hold on you.

“This is it,” you repeated, shuffling your knees underneath you and reaching for him. He loosened his hold so you could wrap your arms around his neck, molding your tender mouth against his in an attempt to convey what your were feeling, how much you needed him.

He kissed you back harder as thunder boomed above you, tongue twining with yours, and low groan loosened from his chest. He released you fully, sliding his hands down your back and scooping you up by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist.

He held you aloft for a few moments, basking in the heat of the kiss, but it wasn't long until you were squirming in his hold, trying to create more friction between your bodies as desire blazed under your skin, raging like the storm outside.

In a quick movement, he broke the kiss and dropped you back onto the bed, sprawled on your back. Before you had time to process what happened, his rough hands forced your thighs apart, revealing the puffy, drippy state of you. One of his hands slid up to part your folds, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to the cool air of the room.

Again, you had the echo of the feeling that you were an artifact under his jurisdiction, being examined with the utmost attention, like the code to cracking you open was written on your skin.

Bill saw you down to the soul, and it terrified and exhilarated you in equal measure.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, moving to ease his middle finger inside of you, curling his knuckle to prod that gooey spot inside you and draw a moan from your lips. “The most beautiful curse I've ever had to break.”

“Bill,” you whined, hands grabbing at the sheets, hips trying to rock against his hand, needing more.

He smirked. “Seems I've already broken you, needy little thing. Haven't even gotten started.” He leaned down, laving his tongue over your clit before sucking it between his teeth, and you keened, vision tunneling as bliss washed over you. The relief so palpable it brought tears to your eyes.

He added a second finger, setting a slow but intense pace, stretching and molding you with his fingers, his mouth messily slurping on your clit to keep you loose and moaning beneath him. Pleasure signed every nerve, burning through your muscles like lactic acid, eating into your bones until they were gelatinous, a puddle of simpering goo on Bill’s bed. He was doing just enough to elicit pleasure but not enough to make you cum, and it was starting to make you desperate again, bucking your hips against him in search of more.

“Hush,” he scolded, swatting at your inner thigh when you opened your mouth to beg. “You'll be begging me to stop coming soon enough.”

You couldn't tell if it was a promise or a threat, but either way, you snapped your mouth shut, a fresh wave of arousal making your pussy clench around his fingers.

He took some mercy on you though, and picked up the pace with his fingers fucking you with his hand while he kissed up your stomach, leaving a trail of slick from his chin over your stomach to your tits. He guided a pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue before sucking hard, and your back bowed off the bed as you cried out for him.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and he obliged, bathing your tits with his lips and tongue, using his teeth to elicit sharp gasps of pain before soothing the sting with pleasure. Your orgasm began to build, winding like a gear in your low belly until you were barely able to breathe, every scrap of energy drawn to the apex of your thighs.

“Merlin, your tight, love,” he murmured against the side of your tit, kissing his way back down between your legs. “Ready to come for me?”

“Please, Bill—fuck, please,” you mewled, dragging him by the hair to your needy clit.

“So pretty when you beg,” he purred, swirling his tongue just around your clit, careful to avoid direct contact. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you immediately answered, trying to chase his tongue with your pelvis. “I'm yours, Bill.”

He grinned. “That's right. Mine.” With that, he fastened his lips around your clit and sucked hard, curling his fingers against your g-spot at the same moment, and something inside you gave way. You came with a scream, bliss bursting through like a tsunami and dragging you under.

It filled your mind and soul, an endless torrent of bliss drowning you in its bottomless depth. When if finally spit you back out, gasping and overwrought on the shore of Bill's bed, he was still lapping at you, his face and shirt soaked with your release.

“Good fucking girl, well done,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers to massage the ache from your trembling thighs, his tongue dipping down to drink at the pool of your pleasure. “Twice more, now. That's my girl.”

You shook your head, feeling like a wrung out sponge, but sure enough, Bill has to ratcheted back up in no time, screaming his name, clenching around his fingers as you came a second and third time. It was like magic, the way he coaxed your body into doing what he wanted, even when you thought you couldn't. Playing you like an instrument, drawing whatever song he wanted from your body.

When you came down from the third, twitching and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, he finally relented.

“Did so well, darling,” he cooed, easing his fingers from you and licking them clean. “Are you alright?” He asked, resting his cheek on your thigh as you caught your breath.

You nodded, grasping at his hair again to pull him up your body. He obliged with a chuckle, letting you crash your mouth to his in a desperate, messy kiss, your essence on his tongue making your head spin even more.

“Fuck me, please,” you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him fully onto the bed.

“Insatiable,” he purred with approval, shifting to slide down his sweatpants fully and kicking them off. He grasped himself, sawing through your drenched slit with a groan. “This was all I could think about in Cairo,” he rasped. “Being balls deep in this fucking pussy, feeling your wrapped around me, squeezing my cock the way you do my fingers.”

“Please, baby. Need you so bad,” you whined, rocking your hips in time with his.

“Need doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling.” His voice was a strained growl, a primal sort of plea, and it drew another whimper from your chest. “You remember your safe word?” He asked, nearly trembling with effort of not burying himself to the hilt.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He shuddered, a breathy moan fanning against your neck, as his control severed. He slammed his cock into you, sheathing himself completely in your depths, and you both cried out, clinging to one another as he dragged his hips back, then slammed them forward again and again. Rutting into you like a feral beast. Brutalizing every inch of your overworked pussy, your overworked mind, until you were brainless, boneless, his to claim entirely.

“Feels even fucking better—shit, baby. So fucking tight and hot, so wet f’me. My perfect little cunt takin’ me so well.”

You could only moan and nod, eager as a bobblehead. “Yours,” you parroted, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he gruffed, yanking your head back by your hair so he could ravish your neck with his teeth and tongue.

You were so sensitive from before that you could already feel that knot tightening a fourth time, making you flutter and clench around him as he railed you.

“Come for me, love. Give it to me,” he growled, his free hand dipping down to work your clit, his thrusts growing rougher by the second. Tearing you apart on his cock.

Nothing else would ever satisfy you the way he was, he was molding you into the shape of him, ruining you for anyone else. No one could please you the way he did, understand your body so viscerally, so completely, that it bowed to him before it did you.

He owned you mind, body, and soul, and you wouldn't have it any other way, because you knew that you owned him too. Like a lion on a leash.

“Come with me, come with me,” you cried, your trembling body trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck yes,” he huffed, breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Gonna paint this cunt white. Make you mine.”

“Yes, yes! Fuck, Bill, I’m—” You came so hard you couldn't even scream, your mouth falling open as pleasure exploded from your center, a bomb detonating in the depths of your soul.

Bill sank in his teeth into your neck, bottoming out while his cock kicked inside of you, fulfilling his promise and painting your insides with his release. You collapsed onto the bed, scattered pieces in the swallow of space, half-there with Bill as he fucked you both through it, kissing at your neck and muttering praise, and half-gone, a disembodied soul floating on a river of bliss.

Slowly, you returned piece by piece until air slammed back into your lungs and you were gasping, shivering, clinging desperately to him.

“Sh, sh I’ve got you. You're alright,” he shushed, shifting on the bed to fold you into his chest, raining kisses over your forehead and temple. “You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you.”

“That was—” you panted, feeling the race of his heart under his skin, in perfect synchronicity with yours.

“I've never felt anything like that,” he murmured, nosing into your hair and taking a deep breath. “Like you.”

“Me neither.” You wrapped your arms around his middle snuggling closer. “You're a madman,” you chuckled, and you felt him smile.

“Only for you.”

You were quiet for awhile, the room filled with the sounds of your laborers breathing, the onslaught of rain on the roof, the pop and crackle of the fire.

“I'm sorry for leaving like that before,” Bill whispered, breaking the drowsy quiet. “I didn't trust myself to not lash out…” his voice trailed off, his hands tightening a bit around your body, like he was scared you'd pull away from him at the reminder of before.

“Thank you for trying to protect me,” you responded, lightly tracing the scars along his back, and tension in his body melted.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, especially not me,” he said, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his dark irises so soft and sincere. “You really think you could fall for me?” He asked, bumping your nose with his.

“I think I've already started,” you whispered, bashful, and he beamed, catching your lips in a light, languid kiss.

“I know I was supposed to be the one teaching you…” he murmured against your mouth, kissing along your jaw, down your neck. “But you've opened my eyes so much, helped me learn the lessons I was avoiding—” his voice caught, and he buried his face in your neck, holding your naked body pressed against his, not even air separating you. “I feel like I can be the man I want to be with you,” he confessed, pressing a kiss to the bite mark he'd left along the curve of your throat. “Like I don't have to hide anymore.”

“You're mine too,” you whispered, and he loosed a breathy sound, almost like a whine, and held you even tighter. “And I want you exactly as wild and stubborn and clever and complex as you are.”

Bill shifted upwards, catching your final words with his mouth, moving purposefully, indulgently, against yours. Saying everything he couldn't express with words, and your heart was so full it started leaking from your eyes, tears snaking down your cheeks and getting caught in the kiss.

He moved his lips to catch your tears, shushing you softly. “I'm yours,” he said, pecking your lips again. “And I have those good-for-nothing jackasses to thank for it.”

You burst out laughing, flopping back onto his pillows. “They're going to be so damn smug.”

Bill groaned, burying his face in your tits. “Worth it when I get to show you off and crush their dreams.”

“They'll live,” you giggled, combing your fingers through his hair.

Bill's alarm suddenly blared from the side table. “Silencio,” he barked, and the clock fell silent once again. “We're calling out,” he mumbled.

You nodded, sleep already starting to tug at you, your limbs going heavy on the mattress. “As long as the boss says it's okay.”

He huffed a laugh. “Good thing he's a pretty laid back guy.”

You rolled your eyes behind closed lids, and hummed in agreement. That was a lesson for another day.

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this series! This is the last part of the core series, but I'm considering doing a few extra drabbles that go along with it (let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see!)

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger, @astralissas, @novausstuff, @babyearthquakementality, @slytherin-min99, @buendiabebeta, @littlemadamred, @nislame, @mother-homunculus, @dreamyassasin, @lottalove4evelyn, @mmmunson, @th0tformikasa, @katie-tibo, @comicalivy, @polireader

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reyllos · 9 months ago

Text

Chapters: 13/13

Word Count: 110,917

Chapter summary: Eight months later

Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV); Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn

Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington; Eloise Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington; Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Anthony & Benedict & Colin & Daphne & Eloise & Francesca & Gregory & Hyacinth Bridgerton; Benedict Bridgerton & Colin Bridgerton; Colin Bridgerton & Violet Bridgerton; Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane; if you squint; Harry Dankworth/Prudence Featherington; Colin Bridgerton & Eloise Bridgerton; Francesca Bridgerton/John Stirling I; Francesca Bridgerton/Michael Stirling; if you squiiint; Anthony Bridgerton & Colin Bridgerton;

Characters: Colin Bridgerton; Penelope Featherington; Eloise Bridgerton;Benedict Bridgerton;Francesca Bridgerton;Violet Bridgerton;Hyacinth Bridgerton;Gregory Bridgerton;Portia Featherington;Prudence Featherington;Harry Dankworth;Cressida Cowper;Lord Debling (Bridgerton);Lady Whistledown (Bridgerton);Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma;Anthony Bridgerton;Daphne Bridgerton;John Stirling I,Michael Stirling;Footman John (Bridgerton);he deserves a tag now;Charlotte zu Mecklenburg-Strelitz | Charlotte Queen of the United Kingdom;Philippa Featherington;Albion Finch

Additional Tags: Romance;Slow Romance;Slow Burn,Happy Ending;Angst with a Happy Ending;Friends to Lovers;Colin Bridgerton Being an Idiot;an idiot we love truly;Regency Romance;Season 3;a season 3/ book fic as I would have written both;Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington-centric;Bridgertons Being Bridgertons;Bridgerton Family Feels;Eloise and Colin getting closer as they are the only ones that know about lady whistledown;and see penelope;and have their own penelope dramas;penelope being the amazing woman we all know she is;bridgerton family being crazy and supportive;Drinking,"tea" consumption;(not glorifying these things but they're described)

Fic Summary:

“Fail to unders-” Colin shook his head and took a step closer to her. “I’m sure you are aware that it is a gentleman’s duty to marry a lady should he bring dishonour upon her.”

“Yes, but you’re not a gentleman, you’re Colin,” she interrupted him, her blue eyes boring into his, “You don’t count.”

Taken aback by the explanation, he could only stare at her in disbelief. Those words were familiar to him, yet they made him feel strange.

"Just look at our surroundings," Penelope gestured to the empty room. “We are without a chaperone, as we have been on multiple occasions. Suppose someone were to enter through those doors at this very moment, we would be under an obligation to marry, regardless of whether or not we kissed. So, what difference does it make?”

----

The year is 1815, and Colin Bridgerton devises the brilliant strategy to aid Penelope Featherington in attracting eligible suitors.

#polin #polin fanfiction #polin fanfic #polin fic #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #my fanfiction #complete fanfiction #fanfiction update

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mxltifxnd0m · 1 month ago

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some blood and a feral grin ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: you need to clean up after a hunt, sam can help with that

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, canon level violence, blood, fluff, smut: shower sex, oral fem! receiving, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, aftercare word count: 5.3K a/n: new fic layout!! i was inspired by @rubyvhs for the new layout hehe! also a huge shout out to my irl friend nicole for being the inspiration behind this fic LOL enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog! your feedback fuels me <3 sam winchester masterlist

MOONLIGHT FILTERED in from the stained windows high on the walls as the sounds of grunts and squelches echoed all around you. Your arms were poised above your head before they came down one last time—letting out a guttural scream deep from within you and then, there was nothing.

Your ears were ringing from the abrupt silence, and your chest heaved heavily from exertion. The long dagger that was hidden in your boot was caked in blood as the body beneath you was mutilated beyond recognition. You slowly stood and picked up the machete that you had dropped earlier. Your body had come to an upright position from hovering over the headless vampire you killed moments ago.

Your muscles were burning, and you could already feel a deep ache beginning to settle into your bones, but you ignored it. You took a deep breath and stretched, shaking out your arms as you tried not to wince at the pain in your sides. The coppery scent of blood and the musty air of the dilapidated warehouse filled your nose before exhaling with a small sigh. You trudged towards the front of the warehouse, maneuvering through some headless bodies that you had taken care of earlier. You could feel the sting of the cut on your forehead and the bruises forming on your ribs, but you continued your trek through the warehouse.

It felt like forever, but once you made it through the front door of the building, a familiar black car pulled up in front of it. You couldn’t help the smirk on your face when the headlights turned off as you slowly approached the Impala.

“I think you’re a little late to the party boys.” You teased as they looked at you with surprise filling their expressions.

You saw how they looked you up and down, and you could only imagine what they were thinking as the Winchesters took in your appearance.

Wayward strands of hair fell from your updo and into your face. Drying blood that soaked your clothes and smeared on your face. Your machete was held limply at your side as you waved at them with your bloodied dagger and shot them a crazed grin—the blood lust and adrenaline that had filled your veins had just barely receded as your body began to relax.

Sam couldn’t help but stare at you in awe. He’d seen you covered in blood; it comes with the job, but the glint in your eyes was something that he had never seen before. He thought you were always beautiful, but seeing your hair askew and practically drenched in blood with the pale moonlight highlighting your features and making the wide smile that you had plastered on your face even brighter than usual—well, he felt something in him stir, something primal in him had awakened. Sam subtly adjusted himself, relieved that his lower half was covered by the open car door. He cleared his throat before averting his eyes to the warehouse you had just come out of.

“You took care of the nest all by yourself?” Dean asked you, skepticism coloring his tone.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh and nod as you slowly approached the two brothers. You finally reached the taller brother as Dean rounded the car and stood next to him.

Sam crossed his arms and looked down at you, an unfamiliar look in his eye. “You, of all people, should know that was reckless.” He lightly scolded you as his gaze strayed from your eyes to the cut that was near your hairline. Sam had to resist the urge to brush over the injury—wanting to take your chin in between his fingers and scan for any more open wounds you may or may not have.

“Well, I wasn’t going to sit on my ass like some damsel in distress and wait for you guys to come and save me.” You shrugged. “Besides, it was a few vamps. Nothing that I couldn’t handle myself.” You shot Sam a wink and a slight grin.

Sam pursed his lips, trying not to smirk when you sent him the smug smile his way. He shook his head and sighed. “Has anyone told you that you’re difficult?” Sam asked with a cocked head.

“Plenty of times, by you and your brother.” You said cheekily before taking a step back. “But, as much as I want to continue this lovely conversation, I need a shower and some food. I’ll meet you boys back at the motel.” You told them as you slowly walked backward in the direction of your car.

Dean gave you a thumbs up and walked to the driver's side of the Impala as Sam just shook his head again, letting the smile that he was holding back emerge on his face as he saw you turn around and continue walking to your car (his eyes definitely didn’t follow the way your hips swayed and trailed downward to see good your ass looked in the jeans you were wearing).

Sam finally ripped his gaze away from you when he heard a comically loud cough come from Dean. Sam’s head snapped towards the driver's side of the car to see Dean raising an eyebrow at him.

“You going to stand there and stare all night or can we get back to the motel so you can finally spill your heart out to her?” Dean asked with a knowing smirk on his face as he wagged his eyebrows at his little brother.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get in the car,” Sam grumbled before opening his door. He didn't wait for a response from Dean, so he climbed into the Impala.

Dean got in and started the car, the Impala erupting in a loud roar. Dean looked at Sam before driving. “You didn’t say no.” Dean had a shit-eating grin on his face and began to drive, pulling out of the gravel driveway of the warehouse and toward the direction of the motel where the three of you were staying.

Sam glared at Dean but offered no retort—he wasn’t willing to dignify Dean’s taunting with a response (but he knew deep down that his brother was right, he didn’t want to hear the ‘I told you so’ comment from him because Dean would be annoying about it).

Driving back to the motel was slower than you anticipated but you blamed it on the drying blood on your hands and jeans that restricted your movements (and it definitely wasn’t from the pangs of pain you felt coming from your ribcage). So it wasn’t a surprise to find the Winchester’s Impala parked in the lot of the motel.

You pulled up next to their car, turned it off, and headed towards their room, which was coincidentally (not) next to the brothers. You quickly entered the room, not surprised by the sight of the Winchester brothers, having given them the spare key to your room two days before, sitting at the table near the kitchenette at the back of the room.

It was comical how both Sam's and Dean’s heads snapped in the direction of the door, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the action.

Dean got up from the chair, patting Sam’s shoulder in the process. “Great, she’s back! I’ll grab us some food.” Dean grabbed the jacket he shrugged off earlier and put it back on.

“It'll be a while, I gotta make a beer run as well.” Dean said as he shot Sam a pointed look before shooting you a smile, brushing past you in the doorway and making his way to his beloved car.

“But I have-” You were cut off by the slamming of a car door and the roar of the car. You looked back from the near-empty parking lot to look at Sam with a raised eyebrow, having noticed the look Dean shot him.

“Is your brother okay?” You asked Sam as you moved further into the room, closing the door behind you.

“I think he’s had one too many concussions to answer that objectively.” Sam kept his eyes trained on you as you moved through the room.

You let out a laugh at Sam’s words. “Right, that was the wrong question to ask.” You peeled off your blood-soaked flannel, leaving you in a blood-stained tank top. You let down your hair before cracking your neck and letting out a small sigh of relief.

You paid no mind to Sam, who was still sitting at the table, as you made your way to your duffle bag to grab some clean clothes before you went and showered the glaring red remnants of the hunt off of you. But as you rummaged through your bag for your pajamas, Sam had gotten up from his seat and silently made his way over to you.

With your pajamas in hand, you turned around and jumped slightly when you saw Sam right behind you, blocking the path to the bathroom.

“Sorry.” Sam looked a bit sheepish as he apologized. “You should probably clean that before you shower.” He gestured to the cut on your forehead.

You cocked your head at him. “Wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of a shower?”

“It doesn’t hurt to clean it twice.”

You huffed a small laugh through your nose. “I suppose.” You hummed out before maneuvering around Sam and making your way toward the bathroom. But before you make another step, you feel a warm hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you momentarily and making you look back at Sam.

“Let me help.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I can do it myself Sam, I’m a big girl.” You joked.

“I know.” Sam smiled. “But you took out the nest of vamps when we asked for your help, so this is the least I can do to repay the favor.”

I know another way that you can repay that favor.

You purse your lips, trying to shake that thought from being blurted out as you look at Sam. Earnesty shone in his hazel gaze.

You sighed. “Fine, you can help even if it's a small cut.”

Sam smiled at you again, and without letting go of your wrist, you led him into the bathroom. It was small, to begin with, but it barely fit you and Sam. It was clear that this room wasn’t designed with someone of Sam’s stature in mind (but then again most things weren’t made to fit 6’4 giant men). The door shut with a soft click as you placed your clothes on the closed toilet lid, and Sam grabbed the first aid kit you had stashed in the medicine cabinet.

Sam grabbed a washcloth from the towel rack, dampened it with warm water from the sink, and gestured for you to stand in front of him. The two of you maneuvered around the bathroom so your back was facing the mirror and sink while Sam stood in front of you.

“Can I…” He trailed off, his free hand hovering awkwardly in front of your face.

You nodded, and he took your chin between his forefinger and thumb. You almost flinched at the feeling of the warm cloth brushing against the skin surrounding the wound. You were gripping the edge of the porcelain sink to resist any urge to touch Sam that may rise.

You were looking at Sam as his eyes were trained on the cut, making sure he didn’t accidentally hurt you as he wiped away the dried blood, the white hand towel slowly being stained red. Sam was gentle with his movements, and it was soothing—your eyes fell shut on your own accord, leaning into Sam’s touch.

With your eyes shut, Sam took the opportunity to really look at you. He was used to admiring you from afar, so this was his window to take in your beauty. The towel had strayed, no longer cleaning the blood from your forehead but now the rest of your face. There was blood splattered across your cheeks, nose, and lips. Sam wiped away the blood, and the towel lingered on your lips.

You couldn’t help how your breath hitched slightly at the feeling of Sam’s touch on your lips. The towel fell from your face, and you opened your eyes to find Sam staring at you with an intensity that you’d never seen before. The air was charged around the two of you, and both of you started to lean towards one another.

Sam’s gaze flicked from your eyes and lips rapidly, and his grip on your chin changed to span the length of your jaw—his thumb resting on your cheek. You let go of the sink to lightly grab his wrist and rest the other on his chest. The two of you were close enough to feel his breath fan over his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Sam whispered in the shared space between you. He felt like he was at the end of his rope when it came to giving in to his desires.

Instead of responding, you brushed your lips over his, and before he pressed his lips against yours, you pulled back slightly with a teasing smile on your face.

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sight of yours, but he wasn’t having it with your teasing and dropped the towel he was still holding, gripped your waist, and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

It felt like liquid-hot desire was injected into your veins when Sam pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was demanding and urgent like the world would end in the next five minutes, and all Sam wanted to do was devour you whole.

You and Sam have always had this underlying tension since you met, but you have never acted on it because the cards never seemed to align for the two of you—until now.

The edge of the sink dug into your lower back as Sam leaned into you. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck, pushing up on your toes to match the fervor that Sam was kissing you with. Sam’s hands moved down your body and stopped at your thighs. He lifted you up with ease and placed you on the porcelain surface. You let out a small yelp from the sudden change in position, and you felt Sam chuckle against your lips.

Sam swiped his tongue at the seam of your lips, and you let him breach your mouth, tongues dancing with one another and letting the taste of him consume you. You felt his hands squeeze your thighs before dragging up your legs to the hem of your tank top, his hands slipping under the fabric and resting on your bare skin.

You broke the kiss, pulling back as your lungs screamed for air, but Sam didn’t want to stop kissing you, so his lips trailed down your cheek to your jawline and led down toward your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. You let out a soft moan at the feeling.

Sam couldn’t help but groan at the sound of your moan and the scent that overtook his senses. You smelt like musk and the coppery scent of blood, but he could smell the perfume that you usually wore.

You managed to pull him away from your neck by grabbing some of the long hair at the nape of his neck.

“As much as I want to continue this, I’m covered in blood and dying for a shower.” You said a little out of breath from the kiss/mini makeout session that the two of you shared.

Sam’s slightly swollen lips formed into a pout, but he nodded in response. He went to move, but you grabbed the loops of his jeans before he could pull away from you completely.

“But, you’re entirely welcome to join me.” You had a sultry smirk on your face as you looked up at him.

“Are you sure?” Sam met your gaze, a concerned frown on his lips.

“One hundred percent.”

Sam leaned in and softly kissed you, a contrast to the initial kiss from earlier. He kept the kiss sweet as his hands pulled up the tank top you were wearing, breaking the kiss as he pulled it over your head and leaving you in a bra and jeans. Sam let his hands trail along your curves as he admired you.

“You’re so beautiful.” Sam breathed out as his hands rested on your hips.

You could feel yourself getting shy under his intense stare but fought through the impulse to cover up.

Sam tapped on your clothed hip and backed up to give you room to slide off so you could take off your jeans. You slid off of the sink counter, unbuttoned your jeans, and shimmied out of them as best as you could, but they were stiff from the blood that they soaked in. You had to use Sam’s shoulders as leverage in order to kick them off, leaving you in your bra and underwear.

You quickly turned away from Sam to turn on the shower and wait for the shower to get warm. You turned back around to see Sam shedding the flannel and shirt he was wearing, leaving his upper half bare for you to stare at.

It was like Michelangelo himself sculpted him—your eyes flicked to various areas of his torso and arms. You had always imagined what he hid under all of those layers, but it seemed like your imagination paled in comparison to the actual thing.

Sam’s chuckle made your eyes snap up to meet his amused smile. “I think the water should be warm now.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up, but instead of responding to his teasing, you reached behind you and unclipped your bra. You let it slide down your arms and fall to the floor before taking the hem of your underwear and stripping those off as well, leaving you naked in front of Sam.

You sent him a smirk before pulling back the curtain and getting in the shower, letting the warm water hit your sore and blood-covered body. You let out a sigh of satisfaction, momentarily forgetting that Sam was in the room with you until you heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling and rustling of jeans before the curtain was drawn back, and Sam entered the shower.

If the bathroom could barely fit the two of you, then the shower was way too small for Sam and you to be in. But you paid no mind to it as you stared at Sam, keeping your gaze from straying downward toward his naked legs.

Sam shot you a soft smile before grabbing the shampoo and pouring some into his hand. He gestured for you to turn around, and he began to wash your hair. You leaned into his touch, letting out a satisfied hum at the feeling of his hands massaging your scalp. You almost let out a moan of protest when you felt his hands withdraw from your head, but he gestured for you to turn around and wash out the soap.

Then he took the conditioner and combed it through your hair before repeating the same process. By the time he grabbed another washcloth through the curtain, you were almost dead on your feet from the head massages you received. Sam couldn’t help but smile at your almost blissed-out smile. He took some of your body wash, slathered it on the washcloth, and began to gently scrub down your body.

Sam started with arms and back before moving down your legs, getting down to his knees to wash them. He tapped your hip to signal you to turn around to face him. Sam washed your torso diligently, lingering on your breast for a moment before moving the washcloth down your waist and hips to your thighs. You started to breathe a little heavier in anticipation—seeing Sam on his knees in front of you was making a heat pool in your core, and you could feel yourself getting wet.

Sam nudged your feet, spreading them apart so he could fit in between them. He dropped the washcloth on the shower floor with a wet thwap, grabbing one of your legs and throwing it over your shoulder. You leaned back onto the cool shower tile as you felt him press gentle kisses on your inner thigh, trailing up toward your heated center.

“You got such a pretty pussy baby.” Sam murmured into the soft skin of your thigh. “Wonder if it tastes as good as it looks.”

Your head fell back and a soft moan left your lips as you felt him press a soft kiss to your clit. A hand wove through the damp strands of Sam’s hair as he began to lick and kiss at your cunt.

Your moans and whines filled the steamed-filled bathroom as Sam ate you out. He sucked and licked at your clit before his tongue made its way inside of you, darting in and out—collecting your sweet essence and spurring Sam on to taste more of you. He let out small grunts and groans as you tugged at his hair, the vibrations providing you more pleasure to your sensitive cunt.

“Fuck, you taste so good honey.” Sam pulled away for a moment, making you whine slightly, which made Sam nip at your thigh. “Don’t be greedy just yet baby, I’ll make you cum. I just want to admire you.” He said while looking at your cunt hungrily.

Sam blew cool air on it, making you clench around nothing. He chuckled darkly before diving back into your cunt.

A keening whine left your lips as he ate you out like a man starved. “F-fuck! Oh Sam!”

You started to chant his name like a prayer as you felt yourself hurling closer to cumming.

Being spurred on by your moans, Sam sucked your clit into his mouth and slowly inserted one of his thick fingers into you. Sam quickly added another finger when he felt little resistance when he put the first finger in.

His fingers worked in tandem with his mouth, and you were quickly shoved over the edge of pleasure when he crooked his fingers just right and hit your g-spot. You clenched hard around his fingers, Sam letting out another groan in your cunt, adding to the pleasure that coursed through your body. Sam only slowed his ministrations, helping through your orgasm until you had calmed down.

Sam left one last kiss on your sensitive clit before trailing up your body, the soap no longer on your skin, before pressing his lips against yours. You melted into the kiss, resting your hands on his chest before one of them trailed down to brush against his raging erection.

Sam grunted against your lips when he felt you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He pulled back from the kiss but rested his forehead against yours as you started to stroke him slowly.

Then Sam pulled away suddenly and turned off the water in the shower. He quickly lifted you up in his arms, pulling another yelp from your lips. You had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist as he made his way out of the bathroom and into the empty room, toward the nearest bed.

He practically threw you on it before getting it on the bed himself, slotting himself in between your open legs and pulling you into a fiery kiss. Sam couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, his tongue dominating your mouth as his hand found your center again and began to tease your clit, rubbing soft circles on it.

You moaned into his mouth before he pulled away and began to attack your neck, biting and sucking marks into it. One of his fingers started to trail up and down your slit and chuckled into your neck.

“You’re still so wet. S’all for me honey?” Sam pulled back from your neck to hear your response.

“Y-yeah, all for you, fuck!” You could barely string that response together—not when Sam had inserted his fingers back into you.

Sam let out a dark chuckle before leaning down and sucking a nipple into his mouth, ripping another moan from you.

“You’re doing so good for me honey. You feel so good around my fingers, sucking me right in.” Sam crooned, freeing your nipple from his mouth as he kept fingering you. He kept it at a slow pace, wanting to drag it out.

“Please, go faster Sammy.” You all but whined out.

Sam said nothing but quickened the pace of his thrusts and started to thumb at your swollen clit. He leaned up and drew your lips into a kiss, but you could barely kiss him back, moans leaving your mouth with every thrust of his fingers.

Sam could feel you clench around his fingers. “You gonna cum for me baby?”

All he got was a loud moan in response, making him smile at how wrecked you were from just his fingers.

“Good girl, come around my fingers and you’ll get my cock.”

The praise from Sam made the coil that was wound up in you snap, and you came around Sam’s thick fingers. Sam whispered praises in your ear as you came down, having withdrawn his fingers and tracing the skin on your hips soothingly.

“There she is.” Sam said with a gentle smile once you calmed down and opened your eyes.

“You ready?” Sam asked as he lined his tip to the entrance of your soaked cunt.

You nodded.

Sam clicked his tongue at you before slapping the tip of his cock on your oversensitive clit, making you jump at the feeling.

“I need words, baby.” The low gravel of his lust-fuelled voice made your cunt pulse, and you could feel how wet you were.

“Yes, I’m ready.” Your voice was slightly hoarse from all of the moaning and whining that Sam pulled out of you.

“Thank you, baby.” Sam leaned down and kissed you. While he was kissing you, he slowly penetrated you. The stretch of his thick cock was teetering the line of pain, but it felt so good as he filled you up.

Both of you let out moans when he filled you up to the hilt, and you clenched around him involuntarily.

“Shit, honey, you can’t do that.” Sam told you in a strained voice.

You noticed how his jaw was clenched and couldn’t help but tease him like he had been doing to you and clenched around him again.

Sam stared down at you, a serious look on his face as you looked at him with a playful look in your eye. Then Sam pulled out until the tip was left inside of you before plunging back into you roughly, a sharp moan leaving your mouth at the sensation.

Sam began his pace slow but hard, slamming into you with enough force to shove you up the bed. You had to wrap your legs around his waist and brace yourself against the headboard. Your moans and Sam’s groans filled the room as he fucked you. He shoved his face into your neck and started to suck at the skin, leaving his marks all over your neck and chest.

You weren’t far from coming again, and Sam noticed, shoving a hand in between your legs and rubbing on your clit.

Sweat coated your body as the heat in your core grew and grew. You could feel tears escaping your eyes from the amount of pleasure Sam was giving you. He finally pulled away from your neck and noticed your wet face.

“Awe baby.” Sam cooed as he used his free hand to cup your cheek and wipe away some of the tears. “You gonna cum soon?” He asked with a slightly strained voice, Sam was so wound up, but he could hold off until you were close.

You sputtered out a ‘yes,’ but you were overwhelmed with pleasure that you could barely speak outside of his name and ‘fuck’.

“Come for me and I’ll fill you up, okay baby?”

You clenched hard around him at the thought of him coming inside of you, and Sam noticed.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you? You like me filling you up with my cum?” Sam rubbed at your clit even harder.

“Yes!” You sobbed out; you were so close to coming.

“Come around my cock honey,” Sam commanded, and his voice sent you over the edge. Stars exploded behind your eyes as you came around Sam. His thrusts faltered before shoving himself inside of you one last time, and you felt warmth fill your cunt. Sam all but collapsed on you, and you couldn’t be bothered to shove him off; the weight of him bordered on suffocation, but it was comforting to you.

You wrapped your arms around Sam’s neck and started to card your hands through his hair. He relaxed further into you as the two of you calmed down. Sam eventually pulled out of you and got up from the bed. You threw an arm over your eyes as you tried to gain executive function in your legs, but they felt numb.

You could hear Sam running the water from the sink. You jumped slightly as you felt a damp cloth on your tender cunt. You pried your arm away from your eyes and saw that Sam was cleaning you up, and your heart warmed at the action. You smiled softly at how focused he was.

When he was done, Sam placed it on the nightstand, intending to take care of it later, and gestured for you to sit up. You did, albeit confused, because you didn’t know what he wanted.

Then he lifted you up into his arms bridal style (again, you yelped) and carried you into the bathroom.

“What is with you and carrying me?” You asked when he sat you down on the toilet so you could go to the bathroom.

Sam smirked. “Would you have made it to the bathroom if I didn’t?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Shut up.” You grumbled before shooing him out of the room.

Sam sauntered out of the bathroom, chuckling—though he left it open, it gave you an ample view of his perky butt. You realized that your clothes were still in there, so you got dressed after you were done peeing. Once you were done with the bathroom, you all but waddled out of it.

Sam started to laugh at the sight of you; he was dressed in some comfy pants and a plain black shirt. You glared at him, but you couldn’t help but laugh with him. Once you guys calmed down, both of you settled into the other bed, and Sam took the time to check his phone and saw that he had some text messages from Dean.

You had better make a move when I’m gone, or I’ll make it for you. Sent an hour ago FINALLY! I’ll be in our room with the food. ...jeez, you guys are loud Sent 15 minutes ago

Sam rolled his eyes at his phone before turning to you. “Dean texted, he said he has our food in our room.”

“Ooh, yes! I’m starving.” You got up from the bed excited and put on your shoes half-hazardly.

Sam let out a small snicker at your eagerness, got out of bed, and put on his boots. As the two of you left the room, Sam swung an arm around your shoulders and made the short walk to the Winchester’s room, where the two of you were greeted by Dean’s shit-eating grin and dealt with his teasing for the rest of the night until Sam was fed up with him and dragged you back to your room to sleep the night away.

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