Well here is a Samsie story for you guys! I have so many ideas for this fanfic (Some I think I gave you as @ask-joeydrewstudios because I want to know how Sammy or Susie would be. But I’m a patient girl so I’m waiting for them.)
Sam drummed his fingers on the diner table over and over.
One, two, three, four. He counted and counted. Dean still hadn’t come back into the diner from the car. He’s not fucking stupid, he saw that Katherine bitch follow him out after she watched her father go into the back.
‘Calm, down. He’ll be back soon.’
Sam was pissed. It was slow in here and there was an older man looking at him funny, like he wanted Sam the same way Dean had him two days ago. Bent over a motel table.
“What the hell are you looking at?” He snaps suddenly at the man with the black beard.
The guy starts and looks down sheepishly, stirring his coffee as the horrible radio music plays.
He’s fifteen for Christ sake! The man had to be in his forties. Sam wasn’t in the mood for anything.
“Can I get you anything?” A red haired girl named Susie asks him sweetly.
He can tell she knows. She knows that his big brother is out there with her slut of a friend. Sam doesn’t want to be mean to her, she has braces that look painful and freckles speckled greatly across her face. She’s pretty, but in a geeky kind of way.
“Uh, not really. My brother has the money,” Sam laughs back.
“Yeah, and my older sister is out fuckin’ around with him. I think I can get you what you want for free,” she snorts, putting a pale hand on her hip.
Sam raises his eyebrows and gapes in surprise.
“I’d like a vanilla milkshake?” He squeaks.
Suddenly, he finds her hot. He finds her freckles cute, her braces adorable, and her green eyes sexy.
“Of course, sweetie,” she giggles and roller skates off.
He also likes the move of her slim hips and the graceful arch of her back.
Sam looks over to the parking lot and sees Deans silhouette in the drivers seat.
In the moment, he likes that Susie’s not Dean.
“Here, sweet cheeks,” Susie smiles, setting the large cup in front of him.
She sits down across from him in the booth with a wide smile as he takes the first slurp.
“Wow, thanks,” he ends up smiling right back.
“God, you’re hilarious!”
Sam and Susie roll their eyes as their siblings come in. Sam keeps talking to her about his classes, she’s in tenth grade and he’s still in ninth.
“Sammy, its time to go,” Dean barks as he eyes Katherine up for the last time.
Katherine giggles and hands him a big bag of food and some money. Susie doesn’t catch it as she hugs him tightly.
“It was nice meeting you,” she whispers.
“You too, maybe I’ll see you soon,” he nods.
Sam was good at giving false hope.
“Yeah,” she nods.
Sam knows he’ll never seen her again.
“So, you liked that girl?” Dean asks when they’re on the road.
Sam flips him off as he strips off his jacket and turns the radio on. Dean growls and throws a carton of food at his brothers scrawny chest.
Sam puts his head down as he begins eating, he was angry but still felt stupid.
“All you had to do was say no, bitch,” Dean rolls his eyes.
“All you had to do was fuck her to fuck is up!” Sam barks loudly.
Dean snaps his neck to look over at him, rage evident in his eyes.
“You think I had sex with her?” Dean scoffs.
“What else would you be doing with her?” Sam hisses.
Dean swerves into the motel parking ot and into the space in front of their door.
“What was I not good enough when you fucked me? Was I not good enough when I sucked your dick yesterday? Am I not enough!” Sam screams.
“Sam, Dad is inside–”
“Fuck Dad! Was she a better fuck? She suck it better? What, cause she can get wet or she has boobs?” Sam is angry, screaming at his brother.
Dean slaps a hand over his mouth and another grips his shirt, their faces mere inches from each other.
“Get in the back. Immediately,” Dean commands and slips out the car.
Sam sits there in shock until Dean slaps his head from the backseat and he hisses, getting out and slamming the passenger door and then climbing into the back.
“You want to piss me off?” Dean growls angrily.
Sam gets shoved back onto the seat, head hitting the leather with a thud.
“You slept with–”
“I fingered her, that’s all, nothing more!” Dean announces.
“Dean, you didnt-”
Sam is shut up by the hard press of dry, soft lips against his. The rubbing of their lips as Dean turns his head, coaxing Sam’s mouth open with his tongue.
Sam melts when the wet muscle stuffs his mouth, legs falling open easily and arms wrapping around broad shoulders.
“I would have never done it if we didn’t need dinner, baby,” Dean whispers roughly in his ear as his hands undo Sams jeans.
Sam mewls when his half hard cock is taken into that big, calloused hand.
“Why couldn’t you just have sweet talked her into it,” Sam whines, brokenly.
He gasps at the pleasure of Dean jerking him off with slow, tight strokes. A thumb rubbing against his slit every other pump.
Dean scoots down the seat and Sam blushes when he feels warm breath ghost over his crotch.
“Oh, Dean!” Sam squeaks as Dean suckles at the head of his cock.
He squirms and mewls softly as Dean bobs his head slowly, tongue massaging his shaft and slit with skill.
“Dean, you know I c-can’t last long like this,” Sam squeals, putting a hand through his older brothers hair.
Dean groans, enjoying this just as much as Sam is.
“Like it when you nut quick, baby boy. Come trembling and squealing,” Deans voice is deep and raspy.
His other hand reaches between Sam’s cheeks to rub at his hole, thumb pressing against it.
“Harder, press harder,” Sam pants, reaching under his shirt and jacket to pinch at a nipple.
Dean moans as he watches, saliva and precome dribbling from his mouth as he sucks Sam down faster, hand twisting at the same pace; his tongue working miracles.
“Just like that, baby boy. Get your pretty little nipples nice and raw,” Dean growls.
He sinks back down and deep throats Sam. His little brothers cock was red, thin, and just long enough for the tip to slip into his throat. Perfect dick to suck.
“Dean, god, I’m not gonna–” Sam breaks off into a high pitched sigh as Dean presses his thumb dry into his hole.
“Come straight down my throat,” Dean groans before going right back again.
He lets himself take the whole thing and swallow as Sam starts to quiver, whimpering as he shoots down his throat.
Dean milks him till Sam’s dick goes soft and slithers his way up Sam’s body with kisses, biting at his abused nipple.
“Dean,” Sam’s voice a sweet whisper in his ear as he pulls down his jeans to rock his own thick length along his brothers smooth cock and balls. Sam jerks and squeaks when his sensitive head is rubbed against or his balls rubbed too roughly.
He cards his fingers through soft, short hair and lets his nails bite into the flesh at the small of Deans back as Dean humps him.
“You want to come all over me, rub it into my skin. Mark me as yours, no one else’s, Dean,” Sam whispers in his ear.
Deans breath hitches and he moves faster, the car beginning to rock with the force of it. Sam tries to keep from crying out, just wraps his legs around Deans waist and lets him take.
“I need you to shoot all over me, baby. Want it so bad, give it to me. You feel so good, always make me feel so good,” Sam praises him.
“Oh, Sammy. God, I’m sorry, so sorry. You know I wouldn’t have–never would have–” Dean whispers rough in his ear, cutting off into a gasp.
Sam can hear the car squeaking a little and he likes that he’ll be red and his little cock sore from Dean rutting against his body so roughly.
“Its alright. Just come on me, want to feel it. Love it when you make me your cum slut,” Sam snarls in his ear.
Dean grunts as he begins to release, humping down hard, hips smacking against Sam’s and his little brothers heel dig into the meat of his ass in encouragement.
“Mh, yeah. Love it when you’re rough,” Sam sighs, kissing at his neck, his face, his lips.
Dean kisses his brother softly, rolling his tongue into his mouth until its sloppy and Sam plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Sorry, Sammy. I wouldn’t have done it if we didn’t need it,” Dean whispers into the silence, hugging Sam tight to him; begging forgiveness.
“I know, I know,” Sam whispers back.
Cause Sam knows, he knows.
“Still love you.”
I started this at six yesterday and I was out with my family till like twelve but I finished it, and then it got deleted and it was late and I’m really sorry.
Hello Sweet Susie... I was thinking ... Could we talk about fucking Harry after a concert? 😈
When he’s all sweaty and hyped from the crowd. So like he just grabs your hand and pulls you somewhere. Maybe under the stage since everywhere else is filled with people.
The minute he gets you somewhere private his mouth is on yours in deep hungry kisses. The kinds of kisses that are purposeful. His hands are squeezing anything he touches on your body.
He finally whirls your around, mumbling something about not being able to wait. “Been thinking about this since Clouds.”
First some attention to your boobs as he pushes your shirt up and the cups of your bra down and palms you for a few minutes.
Then you’re pulling your own leggings down while he’s undoing his jeans. You bend over willingly, turning to watch as he drags his hand over his tongue and wets the tip of his cock a bit. He spreads his hand out on your ass and pushes into you, a deep groan out of his lungs as his head falls back.
He’s got a lazy smile on his face. Because you feel better than he fantasized about when he was onstage thinking about this.
I don’t understand why there are teenagers and even young adults who WANT to be mentally ill. They don’t actually know if they have depression or bi polar disorder or anxiety, but they WANT to have them so they simply claim that they do. I don’t get this at all, I can tell you right now that people who legitimately are sick don’t want to be. Having depression fucking sucks, it’s not glamorous in the least bit. You don’t wanna get out of bed, you don’t feel like showering, you only think about dying and the worst part is you don’t know why you feel like that, you just do and you can’t turn it off. Same goes for anxiety, that shit is so embarrassing. Like the thought of going to work, driving somewhere new or even talking on the phone makes you have a freak out that can make you shake, throw up or have a full on panic attack,and again you have NO control over this. I don’t want to have depression or anxiety, I don’t want to be a statistic and I also really don’t want to have zero control over my emotions sometimes. I don’t even want to die, at all. I want to live as long as I can, but as soon as I have a flare up then dying is all I can think about. I can’t believe anybody wants that. I can’t believe the idea of having someone on the internet comfort you or have the person you like talk you out of a “suicide attempt” to make you feel special is worth faking an illness. The worst part is that people who actually are mentally ill probably don’t feel comfortable talking to anyone about their problems anymore because they know they’re going to be lumped into the category of all the Susie sweet sixteens who will tell anyone with ears about how “crazy” they are just so someone will think they’re special. I hate to tell you this, but the books and the movies are WRONG. They’re FICTIONAL. Nobody has ever kissed my scars or hugged me and told me i was still beautiful. Nobody ever asked me if I needed to talk and actually listened, instead they let me rant for 2 minutes before ignoring me. Nobody tells me that being “crazy” makes me deep and interesting. This shit isn’t glamorous or romantic like tumblr and your favorite teen novel make it out to be, it is a major obstacle and you should be thankful to not have it. You should be thankful to have a healthy mind, don’t try to ruin it by trying to fit into the ridiculous trend of being mentally ill. Shit, most people don’t even believe me if I for whatever reason have to tell them about my diagnosis. You know why? Because everyone and their mother suddenly has a “I have anxiety and this is my story” novel. We’ve heard it all before. It’s absolutely no shock whatsoever when someone admits they’ve tried to commit suicide, because everyone has that same story, it seems. If you go to the doctors and they tell you that you have an incurable disease, you instantly want to treat it and hope for a cure. Your friends/family are shocked and upset, you would do anything for your physical health back. Depression? Anxiety? “Oh cool you’re seeing a shrink? Yeah me too. I get nervous sometimes”