Summary: Sam and Y/N are pretty calm when it comes to sex. But Sam wants to try something new. He’s a little nervous not knowing how she’ll react to having anal sex.
Characters: Sam Winchester. Reader
Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader
Warnings: NSFW, anal sex, unprotected sex (suit up), oral sex (female receiving), language
Word Count: 2,675
Can you do one about anal sex with Sam? -Anonymous
A/N: a Thanks @impala-dreamer for beta reading this. I hope y'all enjoy feedback is welcomed.
Y/N is sitting there on the bed staring at me with those big and beautiful Y/E/C eyes. I’m leaning against the wall, watching as the book she was reading slowly slips out of her hands. She’s in shock but hell, I guess any normal girl would be too after what I just asked of her. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears flush as her jaw drops slightly. The poor thing must be replaying my words over and over in her head, unsure of what she should say.
“Hey,” I finally speak up, running my fingers through my hair, “it’s like I said, we don’t need to do it I was-” I clear my throat, running my hand over my slightly stubbled chin, her eyes are locked on mine, “I was just wanting to know if you were interested in trying it.”
Part V – “But we’re still sleeping like we’re lovers”
I stood there, transfixed by the overwhelming
feeling of her in my arms, unbelievingly real against the paleness of my tired
memories. I didn’t know what had happened to her – clearly something had happened – but was only glad I had
found her, right in the moment when my arms seemed to be so needed to hold her.
“Will ye tell me?” I murmured against her hair –
fragrant like a freshly squeezed lemon, like a garden after pouring rain -, my
hands rubbing her back in soothing circles. “What happened?”
“I will.” She tilted her chin, allowing our
eyes to meet – hers were dry but glassy, as if her body was wrecked with fever.
“I want to tell you.”
“Good.” I attempted a calming smile, but felt
the muscles of my face stiff from concern. “Do ye want to sit down?”
“We can’t talk here.” Claire told me, finally stepping
back, away from the comfort of my body – I felt the loss of her warmth as acutely
as I would miss a limb. Phantom pain, permanent and excruciating, constructed
by the mind to deal with unbearable loss. “This is Geillis place – she is a close
friend – and she’ll be arriving shortly from work. I thought she had forgotten
her keys when you knocked.”
“Ye can come to my house.” I offered, almost
biting my tongue in eagerness. The image of Claire in my home - the tips of her
fingers brushing the book spines in the shelf, her lips drinking from one of my
glasses - a kiss shared through the marks we’d both leave there – made my heart
swell to the point of bursting. “I mean, we can have a conversation there
without being disturbed or interrupted.” I babbled, struggling to explain
myself over a bout of flushing cheeks.
“Alright.” She nodded in agreement – trusting
me implicitly. Naturally. “Let me
just feed Adso and grab my coat.” The feline meowed in agreement and rubbed
against Claire’s legs, sleek and charming, as if he had been waiting to be acknowledged.
We made our way through the pleasant streets of
Edinburgh, headed towards my house, located just a few blocks away. We traded
some words, but were mostly immersed in our thoughts – preparing what we would
say and do, when we finally could expose ourselves in a safe haven. As we
walked, we didn’t touch – not even our arms bumped into each other, in that
casual way of shared movement. We were both consciously avoiding to touch,
keeping a safe distance, even if acutely aware of each other.
“It isna a big house.” I apologized in a
jumbled way as we entered my apartment, collecting unmatched socks and forgotten
papers along the way.
“I love it!” Claire smiled in a reassuring way,
admiring the big flat screen and black speakers. Her butterscotch eyes covered
my pictures and books, the quilt thrown over the back of the sofa, the
magazines and pamphlets I had sorted inside a little basket next to the
bookcase. “I can tell you live here – it’s warm and alive. It’s a real home.”
I grinned in content – almost purring in
satisfaction -, as she took off her coat. She wandered around, touching objects
with a respectful hand and clicking her tongue in appreciation of my book
collection. Eventually she talked again, her back turned to me.
“Where is your bedroom?” She asked in a rough
voice, unhinged – and then, predicting my puzzlement, she added in a low and
hesitant tone, as if talking to herself. “I haven’t been sleeping much – I didn’t
want to close my eyes and let my mind roam freely. I can barely stand on my
feet, to be honest. Besides,” Claire turned and glanced at me, fumbling again
with her sleeves. “I think it would be easier to talk if we touched.”
“Aye.” I breathed deeply, walking towards my
room. “Whatever ye need.”
I watched as she laid down on my bed, above the
plaid that meant home to me – taking off her boots and socks in the process.
Her movements were slow and calculated, as if she wished to cause minimal
impact with her presence, so that I would carry on with my life after her
departure. Claire rolled to her side, curled like an unborn child, safe and
peaceful in the womb.
I came around the bed and managed to lay down –
silent and precise as a thief in the night -, leaving an empty space between
us, as I faced her. She seemed tired beyond her years and utterly broken.
Without a word she slid her hand to the middle
of the bed, where I could reach out and touch it – I did so, softly playing
with her fingers until she relaxed and our hands were entwined.
“Why are ye here?” I asked, my voice husky. Her
face was a duality of shadows and bursts of light, coming from the window to
dance on her features. “In Scotland?”
“I had to come.” Claire adjusted her face on
the pillow, caressing the nail of my thumb with her fingers, her golden wedding
ring cold like a fetch between us. “I couldn’t be in Boston right now – I needed
time to think. This is the one place that has been home to me.”
“Are ye still married?” I risked, watching in anguish
as she winced in pain. She sighed – but the movements of my hand in hers seemed
to calm her enough to go on.
“Separated.” She licked her quivering bottom
lip, avoiding my eyes. “It turns out Frank wasn’t the man I thought he was. He wanted to own me.” Claire pursed her lips
in anger. “And when he couldn’t own me, I wasn’t enough. Everyday became a war
between us. A long and tiresome war.”
I gulped, taking in the shrapnel of her destruction.
With a swift movement of my spare hand, I rolled up the sleeve of her sweater,
revealing bruises the colour of mustard and moss, screaming against her marble white
skin – marks of resentful fingers, forceful enough to break vessels and
spirits. A lonely tear streamed down her cheek.
“He hurt ye!” I hissed furiously between
clenched teeth, fighting the urge to maim the husband who had so recklessly
broke the vow to protect her – to love
her. She needed my restraint and I could offer it to her – not another
display of bad temper by a man she had trusted. I hesitantly touched the
bruises, wishing to erase them with kisses, to heal them with the adoration I
would bestow upon her.
“I hurt him back.” Claire assured me, a look of
shame crossing her face – as if I could pay witness to the degradations
inflicted by both during their marriage. “He didn’t want me to leave. Frank
said he still loves me.”
“Does he?” I asked with gentleness, battling
the urge to ask her if she still loved him.
“I don’t know.” The tear track on her face
glistened like a dry river, leaving thirst in its wake. “His love didn’t hurt
like this, before.”
I wanted to ask her details on her failed marriage
– her unhappiness was patent and unbearable – but restrained myself. She must
have spent hours replaying the film of her derailed life, echoing words meant
to harm – there was no cure to be found in saying them once more. I wished only
to placate her pain – to take it all into myself, if I could. I longed to be
the bringer of her smiles and not of her tears.
“I called ye.” I suddenly revealed, half
embarrassed. “I waited too long – ye were gone by then. Maybe if I did…things
would have been different.”
“Perhaps.” Claire agreed, haltingly. “But you
were right – I shouldn’t have settled for less.”
I risked to brush her hair – silky and curly,
so elementally Claire that took my breath away – and she closed her eyes in
enjoyment of the intimate touch.
“What will ye do?” I asked, so afraid of the
answer I could die. I wished for nothing more than to have her in my bed, lying
so close to me as I memorized her, for the rest of my days. And yet I knew I
had no guarantee of intimacy, of another conversation, of another touch – I savoured
them all as a gift, for they were precious and not promised.
“I have to go back to Boston.” Claire
explained, gripping my hand with strength. “I have a life there – a nursing
job, medical school, friends and - .” She stopped, her eyes wide open.
I swallowed hard, fighting against myself to offer her an encouraging smile. “Ye
are still married to him.”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes, almost sobbing. I
brought her hand closer to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“I won’t tell ye what to do – that is for ye to
decide, mo nighean donn. But I need
ye to know something, Claire.” I touched her chin with tenderness, urging her
to open her eyes. “Ye alone hold all my heart – even before I knew yer name, ye
meant light to me. I’ll wait for ye
my whole live – and gladly so, even if it means that I’ll watch ye from afar,
happy and fulfilled with another man, worthy of ye.”
“Jamie, I – “ Claire started, but I kissed her
hand again and brought her against my chest, where my heart kept pounding,
speaking enough to silence her.
“I’d rather ye dinna make promises ye may not
wish to keep afterwards, when yer heart is less sore. When – if - ye mean them,
I’ll be here.” I pleaded, staring into her eyes – she held my gaze for a while
and nodded back. “Rest now, mo nighean
donn. Let me watch over ye as ye sleep. Let me see ye safe.”
“I’m always safe with you.” She whispered.
I cherished her and held her hand until she
fell asleep – finding new reasons to love her while she dreamt. She felt safe
and protected with me – and, for that moment, it was enough.
Even when night came and we were left in
complete darkness, I listened to her breathing, absorbing the symphony of the lover I craved. Once in a while I closed my eyes, making sure I could remember her perfectly
– opening them again to correct a small detail, to drink another drop of her,
afraid I would forget. Tormented I wouldn’t.
In the wee hours of night, I fought against
sleep. I felt raw and tender, heart and body aching, calling me irresistibly to
I must have surrendered at some point. I had
the vague recollection of a chaste kiss against my lips – timid, yet burning.
Hello Nipuni, i don't know if you answered that already, but have you ever romanced someone else beside Solas? Your heart ached for someone besides him? The cute & smirky Cullen, the grumpy & polite Blackwall or/and the mass of muscle iron bull?
Hello! I must admit that I’ve replayed the game I think three times and in all of them I make the exact same choices only the mods change haha. I’ve seen all the romances tho! I watched both my partner and a friend play the entire game next to me and they romanced Josie and Sera respectively, then I watched the other romances online.
My favourite one that isn’t Solas is Sera, it may be my elf bias talking but I really love Sera as a character, I just wish the game didn’t force me to be such an ass to her most of the time because I think she makes a lot of sense, shes smart and cute and well meaning and you learn so much more about her when you romance her, but it felt like the game just wanted me to be angry because she wasn’t eloquent enough or something.
but I found all the romances very cute!! like a respite from war, still none of them hit me even remotely as hard as Solas romance did. Maybe because it was the first, but it was all questions and riddles, moral dilemas, a lot of lessons and problems, I just found it so so interesting!!
There is this mythical quality to it, I was already in deep before the reveal but then the story suddenly changes the SCALE so dramatically, you fell in love with a god and he loves you back and everything is terrible and I felt like I was so much more, I was thrilled!! I didn’t see that coming and it was the best turn of events ever!! it made me want to solve all the puzzles find all the clues read all the things!! It also has a ton of my favourite tropes in it, you can draw a lot of parallels and it has endless art potential I’m just so invested it’s been years and I’m just as in love with them as I was before if not more!! I…didn’t mean to write this much I have a lot of feelings _(:’>」∠)_
anti tcc: HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I’VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR TCC AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE.
thought: a lot of what I love about fairy tales, and stories based on fairy tales, is the very explicitly narrative nature of them, and that…really is a defining feature, isn’t it? In an ordinary story, a gun shown on the wall in Act One must go off by Act Three - but in a fairy tale, if you’re kind to a talking cat, he will give you a magic comb and give you explicit instructions for its use in case you need to run away from a witch later. That will come to pass. There’s no pussyfooting around the Chekov’s Gun, no attempt to simulate the subtlety and chance of reality, any more than there is around the moral that the cat is helping you because you were kind to him. Sometimes those rules are explicit in the worldbuilding of the story, namely the way Fairy-types often must replay a favor.
I wonder if it’s a feature of age, if these stories used to be more complex but everything but the core elements just fell away with the centuries? People forget the twists and turns but they always remember the basic rules. Or is it more that only the stories that were that simple were the ones that survived? I’m inclined towards the former. It’s like they just got…more story-like with time. Concentrated narrative, passed down through millennia - and the knowledge of the history behind them, that these tales have passed from mouth to mouth and mind to mind for thousands of years, only adds, meta-narratively, to the sense that that they are stories…
I told myself I’d write this tomorrow but its simmering too much to sit on.
Oh, I think John’s unconditional love for Madi is solidified even moreso in this episode. I mean he legit admitted to thinking irrationally for TWO HOURS at the THOUGHT of losing her.
A. What the hell were you thinking about John???!!!!
B. It seemed to involve having Hands cut a bitch.
I LOVED the John/Silver/Billy/Madi room discussion. Like Billy walks in knowing he done fucked all the way up. The banter is at first between Billy and Flint which is the easier chat for Billy to have with since they’ve had bad blood for so long this is all par for the course. But Billy continues to glance over at Madi and Silver.
We know he knew what their relationship is so he’s had some time to come to terms with just how bad he fucked up. Not to mention he attempted with the other plantations but he was proven wrong. Silver yelling at him was GOLD. I must have replayed this scene ten times from laughing cause Billy’s all, “ of course I’ll protect Madi” like Silver would think he wouldn’t when Silver is clearly saying,
“ Bitch. I know what you did!” It was a great scene. Brought some comedy .
Backing up, the scene in the beginning showing the separate factions is brilliant. Everyone can see how split these people are and it all hinges on Flint and Silver agreeing. Which is crazy and makes Billy’s points when he speaks to Silver alone so valid. But we will get there…
But Nassau follows the pirate King where Flint is only controlling those most loyal to him. He literally has no control outside of that. I wonder how much of this he’s actually absorbed? Any who, there’s the shot of Silver wanting Billy found and as LJS emerges you see Hands and Madi beautifully framed on Silver’s side contrasted with Flint and his guy. I’ve noticed Silver’s temper seems to erupt much in this episode in regards to Madi. He’s two skips away from Woodes Rodgers territory when it comes to letting his Dark Side loose.
I think Flint looked REAL worried when he realized Madi/Silver most likely have no secrets between them and there’s things she told him he wasn’t there to hear. He must have forgotten how he threatened the cache to be in control and the things HE said to her. Flint be spitting those rallying speeches and Silver and Madi comparing notes lol
Whew, I just knew Billy wouldn’t outright threaten Madi. I kept thinking much as Silver did; that Billy’s army were recruited for Silver so while they follow Billy, LJS is who they fight in the name of. This was a great talk because while I’m still side-eying the Underhills murder of the kid, it IS what Silver needed to be reminded of. John CAN take care of himself now but Billy reminding him that Madi is something that Flint can use/destroy hit close. Hell just look at Miranda!
And Silver understands more than anyone Flint’s motivations but it has Silver questioning what HE wants ultimately in this world. And what he is and isnt willing to give up for it.
Which brings us to Flint and Silver again. I think, at least I interpruted Silver’s words as a bit of a warning? I feel like he was assessing Flint. Flint’s motivations outwardly seem so noble but like Berringer has he become so embittered in his cause that even if he were to have the thing in which he is fighting for would he still fight? To which Flint answered that he would.
Now did Max’s knowledge make Silver question Flint’s full story or Flint’s knowledge of it? I kept trying to follow the damn escape routes because that all seemed important. Max has an escape route. And NO, this doesn’t somehow link Max to being John’s wife because she can smuggle him out. I just KNOW that will come out. I think its even more clear Max wants nothing to do with pirates.
Madi dying is the line in the sand for Silver. He will not accept her life being paid for the victory to which Flint ultimately will. That’s where they will divide and now this Urca gold situation. Flint wants Nassau but with no treasury Nassau fails so my thinking Eleanor and Flint are going to concoct a plan. SHE seems to think Flint is the one most in control. That may not pan out so well for her. Flint was cray though leaving his partner at a crucial time in their partnership. But maybe thats it. Maybe Flint is beginning to see where the tide is heading and planning to one up Silver to get the gold and Nassau shutting Silver out.
The minute he said, “ Trust me” I heard the alarm horns going off.
I am severely worried for Madi though. She clearly tried to make this work and continues to but she is facing failure at every turn. Her choosing to maintain the alliance is going to hurt her. The smart thing the elder slave woman was telling her was to go home basically. That this is OVA.
Its like I said previously, while Madi is for her she is not a slave and thus even as Queen of the Maroon people her authority only goes so far. Julius may try to use her to take over the Maroon people. They are def waging war on the pirates. At this point its a guessing game on who’s going to be the one to make a move at her first. Silver is busy right now so he most likely wont be privy until the shit hits the fan. ( I’m looking forward to seeing that murder face). Billy’s men and I guess Billy are to see to her safety. Billy, Billy, Billy. Lol. Then there’s Flint who I hope wont. He told you his feelings in confidence. She’s ostracizing herself for Silver who is with Flint.
Imagine how angry and tore up Silver would be if he told her to trust him and when she finally did he hurt or threatened her. That’s cold.
I’ve probably rambled enough. Great episode. Omg btw Eleanor/Woodes amd Silver/Madi are paralleling stories this season. Could Madi be pregnant after all?
Bedding Taylor Swift
Every night inside the Oculus Rift
After mister and the missus finish dinner and the dishes
Now the future’s definition is so much higher than it was last year
It’s like the images have all become real
And someone’s living my life for me out in the mirror
Can you believe
Just how far we’ve come
In the New Age
Freedom to have what you want
In the New Age
We’ll be entertained
Rich or poor
The channels are all the same
You’re a star now, baby
So dry your tears
You’re just like them
Wake on up from the nightmare
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na
No gods to rule us
No drugs to soothe us
No myths to prove stuff
No love to confuse us
Not bad for a race of demented monkeys
From a cave to a city to a permanent party
When the historians find us we’ll be in our homes
Plugged into our hubs
Skin and bones
A frozen smile on every face
As the stories replay
This must have been a wonderful place
“I can see a light within you, each bright and strong… The light of courage… The light of kindness… The light of affection… And the light of determination… Your hopes and dreams all turn into light, and give you strength.”
omg I LOVE the bed sharing cliche!! Could you write one featuring Keaton?? c:
Keaton: He insists that he can stay on the floor. After all, he must respect a lady’s space, and the floor is more than comfortable. The dust bunnies can keep him company very well. He even presents two prove his point.
Comfortable or not, the way you’ve been raised as a human, you can’t let him sleep on the floor while you’re on the bed, not in any good conscience.
“Well fine,” he finally gives in, his cheeks a little red. “The bed is all weird anyways It wouldn’t be fair to let royalty be uncomfy. Sc-scoot over.” He clears his throat, belying his nonchalant attempt. He has his arms crossed, and his tail jittering around. You chuckle to yourself, and bid him a good night.
“Night, _____,” he says more gently than you’d expected. You feel his fingers run a few few times through your hair, and you share a quiet moment. It’s comforting enough to lull you into a pleasant sleep…for the most part.
You mildly regret your insistence after a long night of being thwapped by his bushy tail. At least the warmth and comfort it provides more than makes up for it.
Four years ago today, Edd Gould, the creator of Eddsworld, passed away after a brave battle with cancer. A little over a week ago, the final Eddsworld video under Tom Ridgewell’s jurisdiction, The End (Part 2), was released, signifying the end of an era of the show that has touched me like no other. Nothing else has had the impact on me that Eddsworld did and does, and nobody is a bigger inspiration to me than Edd Gould was and is.
I remember hearing about Edd’s passing all those years ago and feeling like I’d been shot. There’s no way it could have hit me as hard as it hit those closest to him, but it still left me- and hundreds of thousands of other people like me- frozen in my tracks. However, I remember it just as well as I remember spending countless nights discovering and re-watching Eddisodes- Breakfast, Matt Sucks, MovieMakers, Spares, Hello Hellhole, Art is Serious, and WTFuture, to name a handful… not to mention the two million times I must have replayed Just A Bit Crazy. And I can’t possibly forget the Zombeh saga! It’d be a crime, probably. But the point remains- Eddsworld is the greatest gift I ever stumbled upon. It’s given me so much happiness that I probably couldn’t put it into words and still retain what I want to say, because words can’t describe something this important.
Edd Gould was and is my biggesthero and inspiration- he’s responsible for my love of animation and drawing, and I’d put down good money on betting that Eddsworld influenced my own art style to a considerably high degree. I always dreamed of making web cartoons just like him, and maybe even collaborating with him some day. Hell, he’s probably the reason why green was my favourite colour for as long as it was. I never had the honour of meeting him, much less working with him, but he still left an impact that can’t be matched by anyone. I really wish I could talk more about the man himself, but I mean… I didn’t know him personally. There isn’t anything I could say about him as a person that would matter coming from me, and what little I can loops back around to the show- the way he declined BBC’s offer in favour of keeping the show the best it could be, I know he had to have been a stand-up, for-the-people kind of guy- but all I can say is that, no matter who he was, he’s a huge part of why I am who I am today. And I really do think I like me.
I guess what I’m trying to say with all this is… thank you.
Thank you, Tom, for keeping the show running in Edd’s absence for as long as you did, even at your own heavy expense. You went above and beyond.
Thank you, Matt, for everything you’ve done- which is a lot- and for sticking around and continuing to stick around. And, obviously, for having such a nice face.
Thank you to Paul and every single one of the other animators, new and old, who kept and is keeping Eddsworld spinning. Your hard work is wonderful on the eyes, and not for naught in the slightest.
Thank you to each and every other person of each and every other role and talent. You made this show the best it could be.
Thank you, Edd Gould, for bringing so much joy and inspiration to myself and many like me. You left one hell of a legacy, man, and we all thank you for it.