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satoruhour · 8 months

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While I know Suguru is the og girldad, there’s something so endearing about Satoru with a daughter.

First time she’s in his arms and it’s like somebody put the sun into his palms. She has his white hair and six eyes but in shape of your facial features, his loud and boisterous personality and his sweet tooth, and there’s not a thing on this planet he cherishes more than her. Spoils her, wants to be her “superhero” dad children look up to, you best believe everything she draws for him is kept secure in a folder in his room. He never lets anyone treat her as inferior to boys (knowing the misogyny in jjk universe), and both of them love you to piecessssss🥹

Like I just randomly imagine him baking a cake with his little daughter for your birthday and MY HEARTHNSJ😭

WHEN US MEANS MORE THAN ME & U

a/n: literal tears. bye. i love dad gojo sm. wrote this through tears while listening to this. tagging @crysugu @jabamin @hyomagiri @seeingivy ✶

wc: 3k plus?? man idfk cant see thru my tears

✶ dad!gojo . . .

. . . who ages so well the more he grows older. if you think he looks good at 28, just wait until he’s 34, or 40. although he still has a baby face, his features have matured way more, now, crinkle lines on his forehead and around his lips that accentuate his dimples even more. he just looked… so damn good, truly keeping his physique well into his thirties, except you wouldn’t have known if his hair is turning grey, though, since it’s already white, but you can tell he’s happy when his body hair is not just white upon white.

. . . who has the palest skin, so when he starts to grow a noticeable moustache and goatee he shows you the short strands excitedly, pointing to the various parts of his face with an excited finger and a beaming smile. he annoys you by rubbing his chin and cupid’s bow along your skin in the morning or when he returns home — it’s a little funny seeing you jump in surprise.

. . . who only lets you dictate whether he should keep the facial hair and when you hesitate even one moment (“nope! let’s shave it!”) you’re pulled into the bathroom and handed a shaver and shaving cream. he hums when the blade glides along his skin, knowing you were too afraid to be too rough. gojo liked the tenderness of these moments, you perched upon his lap and bottom lip caught in between your lips as you focused on his chin and cupid’s bow. the grip on your waist is firm, loving the way your thighs close around his own so snugly.

“okay — last one,” you voice out softly, eyes squinting because it was so difficult trying to see white hair from skin. gojo simply giggles at your struggle and you tsk, telling to stop moving! before you’re yelping and the shaver leaves your hand, the soft, plump lips of satoru moving against yours. behind you, there’s a plop! of water, and gojo just laughs when he sees the shaver lodged into the toilet. “ah. well, let’s use yours.” and your mouth twists, “no! i use that to shave…” you trail off and you swear you can hear gojo’s grin and the insult of pervert on your lips. “well! all the more to use it!” ✶

. . . whose vision from the start is slowly turning true. the jujutsu world is in the good hands of his students that he’s able to spend time with you and the (unborn) baby more. he smiles more freely now that he works less missions, but still as cheeky and playful as ever, squishing your cheeks and moving them around as he plants kisses on them. he also shows his feelings more, not afraid to bury his face in your neck and ask for head rubs or tell you he might be thinking about suguru a little too much; the first time satoru put his head to your swelling belly and heard the kid kick he teared up right away, baby talking to the baby bump like the sap he is.

. . . who at first hated his family name because it was only ever associated with his powerful father and then him, with both of his renowned techniques, how it pointed straight to him being the strongest and a cog in the machine to overwork. but now, gojo rather likes it, referring to you as “my wife” and “mrs. gojo” more times than necessary. you gave him his surname meaning by saying your vows and slipping his (rather expensive) ring on your fourth finger. you gave the family name a sense of warmth and homeliness whenever he’d come home to you humming a tune from high school and cooking up some dinner. you gave ‘gojo’ a worth that means more than just the six eyes and limitless — that it’d mean that gojo was the penthouse in some far off tokyo district coupled with you and the baby growing in you.

. . . who when first handed his baby girl, cried full on tears in the hospital, both arms wrapped so snugly around his baby because he was afraid he was going to hurt her or drop her in some way. gojo is generally pretty large in stature that he makes your baby girl look so small that it’s endearing. your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at them, not having the energy to capture the moment since you just quite literally delivered. but satoru much rather have his girls in the picture, handing the baby back to you before he reveals his phone to snap a picture.

“w-would ya look at her?” satoru coos, rocking and bouncing his body gently to ease your baby back into slumber. there’s an ugly show of a mess on his face — snot falling everywhere and tear stains lining his cheeks. but there’s one final thing that has gojo choking up all over again; the baby is curious and feels up his hand, your husband letting a finger out before she curls her small fist around his finger. “oh my god.” it’s cute seeing gojo so distraught as tears spring to his eyes again and he can’t even form words. it makes the baby laugh and he sobers up a little, sniffing and raising a brow. “love seeing your papa cry, huh?” and the baby sputters again and giggles and satoru swears he ascends to heaven and mutters a promise more to himself than your darling girl. “i’ll protect that little smile for as long as i live, okay?” ✶

. . . who is entirely enamoured with his baby girl, carrying her a little too much when she should be in the crib, singing her little songs or pointing out the colours of the sky in the nursery. you watch the scenes like a proud wife and mother, still not used to the beautiful scenes and childlike decorations of the room — only because satoru would not let you in after learning why ellie from up couldn’t conceive even if the paint now was safe. but you don’t have the heart to turn away your husband when this is what you get out of it, reminiscent of when gojo had playfully done to tsumiki and megumi before (“the scenery is beautiful today, gojo-san!” vs. “i already know what colours are, dumbass.”).

. . . who only asks you to rest while he takes on most of the diaper-changing and feeding duties. you weren’t even that old to begin with, but it seemed like just like you were pregnant, satoru found it offensive that you’d think of even lifting a finger. you let him, for a while, until you find out he’s putting on the diaper wrongly and putting a little too much formula in the bottle, but you simply pat his cheek when he tears again. by god, he doesn’t want to mess this up, he doesn’t want to mess you up, he doesn’t want to mess her up, but you show him with your hands wrapped around his. one, two, three, and a half cups into the bottle; wrap around her right, then her left and secure it with the provided adhesive.

“satoru, baby,” you sigh, going on your tippy toes to kiss away the tears spilling from his cheeks, “you’re not a bad dad because you didn’t know how to make her food or change her diaper.” your fingers are as light as dewdrops, always in awe of his flawless skin and looks, and now, in awe of his consideration and love of your baby girl. “but—” you put up a finger, “no buts— remember? we promised each other not to be sorry if we can’t help it. you are human, my love.” gojo heaves a shaky sigh and swallows away the sobs, nodding against your hand as he covers it and leans into your touch. “i am human,” and a little later after quelling the baby’s cries in bed, “thank you.” ✶

. . . who, when she’s old enough, takes her on flying mishaps, hands tucked under her arm pits to guide her through the house in exaggerated flight. it feels like dad is superman, the sofa, high chair, even mama is all too far away from her and she’s onto her next exciting adventure. the bubbly giggles from your darling girl is the only sound that matters to satoru, alongside your laughter as you watch the two in play while dinner simmer besides you. higher! higher! she asks when she can speak and he does just that with his imposing height, but gojo’s tallness never intimidates his baby girl; no, not when gojo satoru is her hero and you, her solace.

. . . who gives nothing but a multitude of praises when his girl is leaning more into the artistic side, asking for colour pencils and crayons and paint to explore her creativity that with each drawing she shows him, he gasps, falls to the floor, and cries out how it should belong in a museum! gojo is doing the most — hands on his chin and pointing to various parts of the drawing and discussing the “meaning” behind it when all your girl wanted to do was draw the three of you as a happy family. he’s buying the frame, making a plaque for the artwork to be hung; when he’s making copies of the artwork to keep in a folder, he’s crying his eyes out (“she just wanted to draw us, us! as a family!” you giggle, “yes, satoru, that’s what we are.”)

“girlssss! i’m home!” satoru grins when your baby runs up to him, swooping her up before she can crash into his legs and twirls her around. “papa! look at what i drew today!” you’re emerging after cleaning up her very passionate creative space after she swore on finishing it before your husband came back, smiling when she bounces on her heels. “woooow!” he clutches his heart, one knee and then the other before he croaks out “ooouhhhh! why isn’t this masterpiece in a museum yet?! it’s a crime!” if you were in high school, the gojo then would definitely barf at how cheesy he was being at the moment, “very compelling use of colour, here, miss gojo. hmm, yes, yes, i see how you used multiple colours for the sun — very effective in showing the many colours of the sunset!” you’re cheesing so hard at the display because he does this every. time. and it never fails to make her yell in excitement, running over to you as she gives you a big fat kiss on your cheeks, “mama helped me!” a raise of the eyebrow before you finally get your well-awaited kiss to your lips, “i’m sure she did, honey.” ✩

. . .who teaches her the basic things, not shying away from the harsh realities of the world and jujutsu society. he tells her about boys who make fun of girls and think it’s acceptable, or teachers that would only like the strong boys to carry the chairs to the centre of the classroom. he thinks that if he’s going to do this parenting shit, he’s going to do it right, not the way his parents did it, not the way the higher-ups “looked” over young sorcerers. he covers self-defense, verbal comebacks as well as a rejected raise of her hand to threaten a punch (you were the one to stop him from teaching her that — you could only thank it wasn’t a middle finger instead), praising and rewarding her with candy and blown raspberries into her skin.

. . . who teaches her mama is as important as he is, but your darling girl already knows the value of her mother who holds her tight when she has a nightmare, or the airplane on mama’s airline that always holds delicious food. she knows how much her mother loves her when you’re sharing a smile with her at the dinner table as satoru chokes again on his food, and when you pat her to sleep while telling the story of how you and gojo met. that’s why she was the one to suggest that they both bake you a cake for your birthday — with her as the head chef and satoru as her sous chef.

“it has to be perfect, papa! no more burning the pancakes in the morning or putting too much sugar.” gojo stifles a laugh at that; it seems that his baby girl had heard the many trivial mishaps that had happened in the kitchen, snapping out of his daze when his daughter lands a light slap on his cheek. “pay attention!” satoru fully laughs now, okay, okay! he says and they read through the recipe together — a family recipe passed down to you — and they try their best. the flour is a little messy, the sugar is a tad too much and satoru thinks he may have preheated the oven too high a heat, but then there’s the familiar smell of the vanilla extract and the rise of the cake in the tin. your baby cheers, collapsing into gojo’s arms in front of the oven and together on the floor, they watch the cake ascend.

“careful, baby, it’s hot.” gojo brings her away when the cake is finally done, dramatically smelling and letting out a sigh at it, “it smells really good, ain’t it?” she purses her lips and points to herself, “all due to me!” and gojo hums in agreement. he’s content to let his baby girl take all the credit when she’s looking as adorable like that, finding that her confidence is looking more and more like his while your kindness shows when she’s propped up on the kitchen island and saying, “but papa was the one who helped me pour everything! so maybe it’s because of both me and papa.”

the “thank you” that satoru whispers into his girl’s temple is a whisper, and the house falls into a comfortable, more calm atmosphere as they work on the icing together. it’s clear that all her excitement has caught up to her and she’s now feeling a little sleepy in between, only shooting up when gojo’s announced the icing’s all mixed properly. “happy . . birthday . . mama,” she draws out in the air with satoru’s finger clutched between her fist, a clear layout in her young mind that he had no choice but to listen (he would always listen), lathering first the white base icing before the pressuring job comes and his darling girl is looking at him with narrowed eyes, “don’t mess it up, papa!”

“i won’t—” and before gojo can start on the lettering, you’re depositing the house keys into the bowl your husband gifted you in high school, letting out a chuckle at the scene before you: the sorcerer’s face caked in white, vanilla extract and broken egg shells on the island and in the middle of it, your husband and your daughter looking like deer caught in headlights.

“hi, mama,” they say in unison and your grin only widens. you could hardly be mad when this doesn’t happen often, already knowing the occasion, but they seemed to be a little bummed out from being found out so you only hope your hug can make it up. your baby girl goes first: she squeals when she’s scooped into your arms, smile so bright it could mirror any angel in heaven. while she still pouts, she’s more than happy to wish you a happy birthday. “thank you, baby. was baking with papa fun?”

she nods so hard her whole body moves in your arms, “papa is very bad at measuring stuff, though.”

you burst out laughing while your husband falls into a greater pout than your daughter did, brushing off the flour from his arms and taking the both of you into his embrace, “she’s so mean to me, sweets.”

“i’m not, just telling the truth. mama, i was the head chef, so i get to say what he’s bad at.” gojo’s pout worsens and you coo, pulling him closer.

“yes, but daddy did help with everything, didn’t he?” you whisper, brushing away the strands that fall over her face. you’ve never really taken the time to take in everything: her white hair, those blue eyes that are a little darker, the lines at the side of her smile that look like yours. instinctively, your forehead rests against hers and upon feeling her nod, you think that this is all you need. “thank you, darling.” and your girl grins again when she feels your peck on her forehead. gojo only can look at his girls with a content smile, pout stretching into his face while his hand never stops caressing your back. “can daddy have a kiss too?”

that night when she’s put to sleep after much protest (you both give in and end up watching your favourite movie together as a present), you’re drawing circles on gojo’s bare chest which also has grown a little bit of hair. his lips upon your hair feels like a divine blessing; he speaks.

“happy birthday again, baby,” a kiss, “only if you came home a liiittle later, though.”

you laugh softly, “actually, i sort of heard your shenanigans when i was standing outside the front door.” satoru jerks from the comfortable position, prompting your head to hit the headboard in a loud ‘thud’.

“oops sorry, baby— but what?!”

you shake your head, roll your eyes, pull him back to tuck yourself under his chin, “you’re so damn dramatic. i just didn’t want to interrupt the both of you. you mean a lot to her, you know.”

gojo sighs, moving away a bit for your head to tilt up and his heart still pulls and tugs like so many years ago. if he recalls correctly, it’s just exactly like this that you shared your first kiss together, the line between friends and lovers blurring so much that all it took was your eyes staring into his to make him notice he never had infinity on around you.

“you made me forget what i was gonna say,” satoru mumbles, a laugh cutting through his features when you smile sheepishly. he copies your outburst, “you’re so damn beautiful.”

“and you mean a lot to her, too. we mean a lot to her — it’s the least we can do when you’ve brought such a beautiful baby into the world,” gojo mutters — it’s late and he’s slurring his words from the fatigue. his eyes glow under the night light and he holds on to you just a little tighter, “to give her a normal life.”

his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there’s the sheen of his tears again. “we will succeed, don’t you worry.” you silence his doubts with a kiss, “you’re doing a great job of a father, ‘toru. i will keep reminding you until my voice turns hoarse and i can’t speak.”

normally, he’d tease you but all it does is make the tears full spill over; but they’re happy this time. satoru only lets you catch his lips in a deep kiss, quietening his sobs as your hands fumble at his undercut and his face. you can hear the faint “thank you”’s he mumbles and you’re also close to crying, pulling away to admire him — god, you loved him so much you feel like you could collapse. he loved you so much he would do it all over again if it meant having you in every life.

“thank you for having me. thank you for loving me, baby,” satoru whispers, wiping at your tears as did you and he laughs, “dunno why we’re cryin’. s’pposed to be a happy moment.”

you huff (of course, he’d say something funny now), but that’s just one of many things you love about him. all you do is hold him closer that night and mutter a prayer — to virgin, to buddha, to anyone who would listen.

it might get difficult along the way: one of you may need to take on more missions, your baby will be growing up and heading to school. there will be difficult talks, puberty, tantrums, none of you were truly ready. and yet, despite it all, you’d still have your satoru, the one who made tsumiki and megumi into what they are today. despite it all, you’d still have each other and your darling girl, your family of gojo’s whose definition changed from suffocating to belonging. despite it all, as long as galaxies are created and supernovas happening and the planets revolve around the sun, it’d take light years for your love to diminish even one speck.

your love for each other could surpass the cosmos — that in itself is enough.

part two

#asks #anon #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader

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cinnapun · 1 year

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we wish you a starscream christmas ✨

#autobots #decepticons #transformers #megatron #sketch #starscream #drawing #earthspark #tf earthspark #transformers earthspark #earthspark megatron #i hate his goatee.

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theygotlost · 3 months

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vetinari is such a fascinating character to me because you cannot simply call him evil. he has all the aesthetic trappings of the Evil Ruler: a self-proclaimed tyrant, serious black robes, a devilish goatee, the tendency to raise an eyebrow or steeple his fingers in a grim manner, the torture chambers and dungeons in his palace, his wretched little pet that he loves so much, everyone is deathly afraid to cross him for fear of the Consequences, so on and so forth...

but he's not "EVIL". he doesn't take delight in senseless violence or act cruel for cruelty's sake. he's not ambitious or hungry for power. he's never a true antagonist, and is often working on the same side as the protagonists (or it might be more accurate to describe his role as a secret third thing). he's really not an unreasonable man on the whole. if vetinari is one thing, he's a pragmatist.

he considers idealism a waste of time because he knows his subjects too well for that. he can easily understand a cruel and villainous attitude, which is not the same thing as agreeing with it: with every new development in technology or society he immediately asks, "how are people going to exploit this? how could it be used dangerously?" not because he plans on doing it himself, but because it pays to know how somebody else will. ankh-morporkians agree: love him or hate him, vetinari's system works because it meets people where they're at.

this started as a post just about vetinari but then it got me thinking.... vetinari's method is not the only successful form of leadership we see. carrot is a natural born (ahem) leader whose outlook is the polar opposite from vetinari's; he operates on the assumption that everyone has good intentions and are fundamentally good people. and because he believes it so strongly and earnestly, people can't help but believe that it must be true, hence a self-fullfilling prophecy. which is great! the world would benefit immensely from more carrots!

buuut..... you can't really run a government that way, can you? you can't just say "let's all pinky promise to be chill and act super niceys from now on ok? 🙂" as a legally binding contract for millions of people. you need something to fall back on when that contract is inevitably violated. carrot can't imagine that anyone would ever do that, but vetinari knows they will, and accounts for every possible contingency. I think what pratchett is telling us, in a nutshell, is to plan for the worst and hope for the best.

the relationship between vetinari and carrot is one I don't see discussed much (admittedly since it's not very substantial), but it's interesting to think about. in his interactions with carrot vetinari is usually bemused at best and impatient at worst, but we know he's plenty smart enough to recognize carrot's value and what he's capable of.

#ahhhhhh this ones been sitting in my drafts for 5 months ivr rewritten it a hundred times #discworld

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plasticferal · 3 months

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girl PLEASE write something for facetime/phone sex with matt (he was looking a little too fine on that ipad in the last vid omg)

kiss me through the phone | matt sturniolo.

authors note: matt is looking fine as fuck lately, i'm going absolutely feral. short and sweet 2.8k words. not proof read! just brain goop.

warnings: 18+ content. fem!reader, masturbation, facetime, sweet talk, praise, explicit language. reader discretion is advised.

the vibrating sound of your phone rattling against your side table echoes in your room. you’ve been waiting for matt to call you all night, and with how sick he’s been lately, it’s the only way to actually see him.

you eagerly answer the facetime call, holding your phone up as you lay in bed, revealing the intricate lace bra and pyjama shorts you’re wearing.

matt answers the call, slouching tiredly at his desk, headphones on. his hair is messy. he’s shaved his facial hair into a faint goatee, and he looks perfect. even when he's unwell.

“i can’t believe you look that good and i can’t touch you” his eyes are wide as he speaks, smiling the second you're in his sight.

“i can’t believe we’re talking through a screen” you pout, rolling over in bed and hugging a pillow close to your cheek.

“you can blame nick” matt scoffs, making you chuckle lightly, watching as his eyes dart between his display screens quickly, then focusing solely on you.

“how is my pretty girl?” he asks, scooting closer in his desk chair, rubbing his hands together in that way he does when he speaks, and you get lost staring at his hands.

you’re too familiar with their touch to ignore the thoughts running through your mind. how much you miss them on your body, even if it’s only been a couple of days of not seeing him face to face.

"y/n?" he snaps you out of your trance.

"sorry, i'm good. i just miss you" you huff, rolling over once again with your phone tight in your grip.

you get positioned in an angle that pans down your body as you shift on the mattress, and you hear matt hum through the screen.

"i miss you more," his smile is so infectious.

you're giddy like it's the first time you're speaking to a crush, despite being in a secure relationship with him.

"you look so good right now, you know that?" he sounds so smug, somehow being able to be alluring through a device as he would in person.

"you do too. i like this look on you" you nod toward the screen, as if he's physically ahead of you.

matt rubs his jaw and bites his lip, the same way he would to make his brothers laugh, and you roll your eyes playfully. you know it's to entertain you, but somehow hit little bit genuinely has an affect on you.

you rub your thighs together, feeling a buzz in stomach as your mind shifts, and goosebumps rise on your skin. he just looks so good.

"does it turn you on?" he charms.

"you could do anything and it'd turn me on" you speak sweetly, a light lace of tiredness in your voice that you can drives him insane.

you can tell by the way he drags his hand down his face. suddenly his little joke hit too close to home.

"ugh, don't say that" he groans into his palm.

"why? does it turn you on?" you mimic him, in a luring tone.

"i've been pent up for like four days" he huffs, shifting in his seat.

"alright baby, i'm sorry" you chuckle, watching him suddenly become tense.

"don't be, it's not your fault you're gorgeous" he winks through the screen and you roll your eyes with a smile.

"alright romeo, are you feeling any better?" you ask pleasantly, trying to redirect the conversation, realizing you haven't even asked him how he is.

"my head still kinda hurts" he scrunches his face.

"my poor boy" you frown, genuinely.

you hate seeing him sick, but you know he handles it well. the boredom makes him more uncomfortable than the actual illness. proof being the hundreds of messages he's sent you, having full conversations with himself through text. his screen time would have been off the charts.

"distract me, tell me what you did today" he coos, a dopey grin on his face as he leans into his hand while looking at you.

"nothing exciting. i did some shopping, bought some new panties. you'd love them" you flash a warm smile, knowing your words are going to get his skin hot.

"not exciting? i'm gonna get hard just thinking about it" he blurts out, an abrupt confidence in him that he's had lingering lately. it's awfully attractive.

you watch his hand dip under his desk, where your view is cut off. you assume he's adjusting himself in his pants. you're trying to squeeze your lips together to hide a smirk.

"don't even show me, i'm going insane as it is" matt adjusts his headset, but it looks like he's doing it to make sure he can hear you better. it's like he can read your mind.

"you don't even wanna see the pair i have on now?" you begin to shift your camera closer to your body, slowly, teasingly down your torso.

"fuck" you hear matt sigh, and you lose sight of him as your phone faces down on your waist.

you slip a thumb under the band of your shorts, tugging them down and only flashing him the lace that hugs the crease of your leg. your dainty fingers caress the skin at your hip.

"i thought about you when i chose them"

he grabs your attention through his lack of response. instead, he stifles a cough, as if he's covering up another sound. it's a soft strain in his throat.

you narrow your eyes, snapping your phone back up to your face, the brightness taking you aback for a moment, and you need to readjust your vision. you're laying on your back, neck perked up on your fluffed pillows, but you lean closer to the screen to observe his actions.

matt's mouth is open ajar, and his right arm is tucked tight to his side, moving ever so slowly. you can't see the view past his ribcage, but you can string together what's happening.

“matty?"

"y-yeah baby," he asks, clearing his throat soon after.

you squint, trying to envision what your full view would be, where his hand is hiding, and the way he's in a state of stupor.

"are you touching yourself?” you bite your lip.

"’m sorry baby. just hearing you speak. your body” his voice is breathy and coarse, and he's staring at you on his screen like he's watching porn, viciously lost in his own thoughts.

“it’s been lonely in that room, huh?”

"mmph-you have no idea," he shakes his head, hesitantly picking up the pace of his strokes, making his voice shake.

you're rolling your hips at the thought of him jerking off, knowing he hasn't been able to satisfy his needs unless you're the one helping him through it. it brings you more pleasure than it should, how quickly he crumbles. even when you're miles apart.

"do you want me to stop?" he asks, and you can tell he's slowly palming himself, shamlessly all of a sudden as he does so.

you can't deny the ache that's been growing between your thighs since you've realized what he's doing. your legs arch up on the bed, and he can't see you, but you're spreading them open slightly.

“keep going" you order, sliding a hand into your own panties, and matt sharply exhales through his nose.

matt nods, leaning in his chair. he silently shows you gratitude by the look in his eyes. they soften, but are full of lust. the office chair dips with him, and the further he leans back, the more of him that's revealed.

taking time to let both of you get more into it as he strokes himself, turning the volume of his phone up to hear the breathy sounds you try to hold back. your fingers working between your thighs as you listen to his soft grunts and moans.

"are you imagining that's my hand, matt?" your voice lowers an octave, using your most seductive shift in mannerisms, voice, and stare to guide matt through.

"or my mouth?" and when those words escape your lips, he throws his head back with a moan.

"i wish i could fuck your pretty mouth so bad" his teeth are tight as he speaks, chest rising and falling heavily.

pushing his chair back so he can finally release his cock from his sweatpants, your heart skips at a beat at the sight of him with his hard dick in his grip, leaking tip and veins prominent in his big hand.

"you touching yourself, baby?" he asks, giving long, wrist twisting strokes to himself.

"mhm" you strain a hum, and pan your phone down so he gets a preview of you your hand under your shorts, caressing through your folds steadily.

you circle your clit that's already soaked, spreading your juices, and you're seeping through the fabric of your pants. you know you need to pull them off, becoming impatient by your own restriction. plus, how badly matt wants to see you.

"you have no idea how bad i wanna be in-between those thighs right now" the nearly desperate moan that spilled from his lips makes you clench around your own touch, whimpering as you rock into your palm.

trying to find the same sweet spot matt has always manages to find, you put your phone down by your side, so the camera view is on your ceiling momentarily.

“don’t stop talking, y/n" he pants, focusing the pump of his hand on his swollen head.

"you wanna see this pussy, baby?" you speak while he doesn't have a visual source for a second.

"who's pussy is it, y/n?" matt growls, and you can hear the wet sounds coming from his hand moving more savagely.

you quickly, ferociously strip from your undergarments, discarding them. you whip out a decorative pillow from under your back and rest it at the edge of your bed, using it as a phone stand so matt can have the perfect view, as if he were actually between your legs.

"yours. all yours" you swallow as you look at your screen again with heavy eyelids.

you watch as matt spits into his hand, making your core tighten.

“bet your fingers don’t feel the same as mine. do they, sweetheart?” he huffs, pace of his hand picking up when you moan in response.

you start groping your breasts with closed eyes, imagining it was his strong hand grasping at you.

“you’re a tease” you murmur, pinching your nipples hard with one hand and squeezing your legs together against the other.

"say it" he chokes out, continuing to fuck himself hard and fast, eyes flicking between a narrow stare and shutting tight with a halted breath.

"n-nothing is better than your touch"

you want to get a better view of him. you can see the entirety of him in his chair, but it's just not close enough. his sweats cover most of his hand movements, and you're mentally begging for him to pull them off.

"for someone who's whole life is behind the camera, your angles could be better, baby" you tease, breathless, and matt glares at you.

he yanks his pants to his ankles first. the sight of his shirt pulled up enough to show the tensing muscles of his abdomen and throbbing erection begging to be relieved. needier moans and whines coming from both of you before he finally fixes his camera angle.

he reaches forward to the screen, bringing it closer, and panning down more. your screen is engulfed by a close up of matt's face and lap. a perfect view.

"better?" he rushes his question. you nod, chuckling lightly.

you continue to roll your fingers across your vulva, spreading yourself open for him and tease your own hole with your fingertips. his whole arm is shaking from the quick rhythm he’s set, drowning himself in the fantasy he’s creating as he watches your expressions of bliss.

pushing into yourself while you watch him, matt almost releases right then and there.

the sight of him masturbating is something you're going to be replaying in your mind, and you already know he's going to make this a more common occurrence.

“i’ve been aching all week for this,” he speaks, voice singing through the speakers of your phone, trying not to sound too much like he's whining.

“you have no idea how hard it is to not get myself off when i think about you, y/n.” matt continues, and it makes you fuck deeper into yourself, arching your back.

you feel yourself growing a sickeningly sweet pain in your stomach, a sharp feeling that bubbles like champagne and brings you such a overwhelming sensation. you're a moaning mess. anyone hearing your vocal exchanges would think it's an act, almost sounding scripted.

“matt-” his full name is cut off in a stuttered gasp, pleasure washing over you wave after wave until all you could do was pant and grind against your palm.

"ngh, keep going. that's my girl," you're both desperate to keep hearing each other and melt completely into your own touch, using nothing but desire and the memory of him devouring you to push you over the limit.

you can hear his skin slapping with how forceful his strokes are, almost like he's putting himself through misery by going fast, then slow. playing with himself, giving his cock the same feeling you would by changing the momentum.

"wish that was my fucking hand. oh, fuck” he groans through gritt teeth, following right behind you as his release spills out onto his stomach.

"mm-matty," you shriek, grinding into your quilt cover and pushing into your fingers to feel like your climax hit it's peak, abs tightening and a sharp inhale flooding your entire body. your pleasure slowly subsides.

your mouth feels dry from gasping and you need to lick your lips straight away, to bring some relief. to regain your composure. you lean forward, grabbing your phone with your clean, shaky hand.

"god that was so fucking hot" matt grabs at the armrests, head tossed back, staring at the ceiling in a post-orgasm daze.

you giggle at the state he's in, watching his cock slap against his lower stomach, resting next to his happy trail that you'd give anything to lick clean. he gives himself a few more lazy stokes, overstimulated as he jolts to his own touch.

you wipe your sticky fingers on your shorts beside you, so you can hold your phone more comfortably.

"i can't wait to touch you again" you admire, snuggling back into your pillow and curling into yourself, bringing the screen to your face.

"better be soon, i don't know how much longer i can last without you" matt pulls himself to slide back under desk, hiding the explicit sight. you know he won't be putting pants back on anytime soon.

"come closer to the screen" you implore.

"why? you want a kiss?" he jokes, and you play along.

"i do actually. c'mhere" you wave him over as you hold your phone to your lips, probably not your most flattering angle but matt adores you in any state. from any angle. even when you're virtual.

"you seriously want me to kiss the screen?" he snorts, shaking his head at you while flashing his teeth.

"if you don't, i'll hang up" you shrug to yourself, earning a grumble from matt.

"you're ridiculous" he laughs.

"kiss me through the phone, baby" you both exchange a fatigued half-smile, as you know it's past his bedtime, so you initiate a parting line.

your eyes strain to see the screen as you pucker at the circle camera on the black mirrored surface, and matt is trying to be serious as he leans forward with a 'mwah' sound, smacking his lips onto his more advanced ipad setup.

the messy burgundy silk sheets in his background shot look so enticing, and you're sure he wants nothing more than to tangle himself between them.

"was that your way of telling me to say goodnight?" he raises an eyebrow, and you nod, trying to be stern in your sentence.

"it was, my love" you speak in a gentle tone.

as much as you want nothing more than to fall asleep to his voice, or his light snores, or even the sound of him playing videos. he needs to rest. and you know it'll be a good sleep after his much deserved orgasm.

"alright my angel, i'll let you go" his eyes are getting darker, and heavier with each word.

"goodnight, matty bear" you slip the nickname in, knowing he's too delirious to argue against it.

"goodnight, baby. dream about me." he smiles with his flushed cheeks, blowing you one last kiss through the screen before it turns black.

you're left alone with the vision of him, and your own arms to wrap around before you drift into a sleep where you will absolutely be dreaming about matthew.

end.

tag list: @luverboychris @recklessmatt @floofparker @teampurpleforlife @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @fake-sturniolos @recklessmatt @kentahoe

#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo oneshot #kiss me through the phone

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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

Text

Danny Phantom Writing Prompt:

When she comes to, a silver haired man with a matching goatee greets her. Kind of. He’s disappointed.

She’s surrounded in neon green and she is so, so, so confused.

——

Her name is-

Well. It was something else.

What matters is that Vlad doesn’t call her by anything other than “Danielle” and “you.”

She thinks if she wasn’t who she is- if Vlad hadn’t ripped her out of her own life, poured her tattered soul into this imperfect body- she’d believe the father like figure he’s poorly pretending to be. But she knows. This is a show she’s watched many times. Vlad, even if she hadn’t had years of actual life and the foreknowledge of Danny Phantom, she’d eventually clock him as a villain.

“You can do it, Danielle.” He says.

“Obey, or suffer the consequences,” she hears. She knows manipulation when she hears it. Vlad thinks it’ll work. After all, little pod baby Danielle would know no different than the confining walls of her room. But she does know, and the voices of her loved ones bolster her in this delicate balancing act.

So, she pretends to let him mold her. Let him shape little Danielle into a puppet he could pilot as he wishes.

To act like her body’s template, but to be obedient in ways Danny would never allow himself to be. To turn trusting blue eyes up towards the drawling billionaire and pretend to take his word as gospel.

In return, he gives her more freedom. He thinks it’s control, that she returns even when he gives her ample chances to leave. She knows it’s a test, and she’s always been good at those.

She collects evidence, slowly. Because Vlad might have overshadowed people and signed their companies over to him, but he was sloppy. He was sloppy and she was a paralegal.

——

Vlad gives her the mission she’s been waiting for. She goes to Danny with a neutral mask and acts like a person who knows nothing of normal social cues.

It’s what Vlad expects of her.

The time is not yet right.

——

So when the time comes, Danielle makes a decision. She was never the baby Dani. She will never be. When she punches Vlad, she tears into him with everything she has. She makes him bleed and she breaks him and she slaps the anti-ghost belt on him to lock his ability. And she breaks more, just to make sure he might not heal all the way, all the while Danny watches in horror.

And then she starts the process of legally beating him up. Danielle bankrupts Vlad in two months with legal fees, and she takes vicious pleasure in rendering him destitute.

Hah. Try creating clones of your one sided love now, you creepy motherfucker.

——

She’s melting. She makes a joke, because Danny looked terrified and she got attached. Well, it’s hard not to get attached, considering he risked his neck for her even after learning she was there to…

Well.

He saves her. She knew he would.

She’s whole again. Stable. But something in her breaks, because she knows, with a sense of unfathomable knowledge, that she will never rid herself of the name Danielle again. She’s bound to this world. The price for her life was an eternity of imprisonment in a realm where she will never see the people she loves again.

——

“I’m not… I wasn’t always Danielle.” She admits to Danny, Tucker, and Sam.

“What does that even mean?”

She sighed, leaning against the window sill.

“The reason I was stable and my… siblings weren’t was because Vlad ripped my soul out from my body and shoved it into the body of a clone. He killed me.”

Danny stuttered to a close. Grief. She smiles at him.

“Technically, I’m older than you and Jazz.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam says, head buried in her hands. Tucker just stares at her.

“Yeah. Me too. But you shouldn’t blame yourself, Danny.” Danielle knows that look on his face. “I hate him, yeah. But… I can’t change it now. So, I’ll see what this world has to offer.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny says to her.

“I get it.”

And she does. Because Danielle knows what it is to die, now. So does he.

So she flips off the window sill, enjoying her always novel powers of flight, and laughs.

“I’ll be Nellie. You can call me Nellie.”

#danielle phantom #danny phantom #dp writing prompt #you can pry my reincarnation/Isekai stories out of my cold dead hands #reincarnated as Danielle phantom #everything changes #but nothing actually changes #vaguely canon compliant?#danielle fenton #Sam mason #tucker foley #Nellie Fenton

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norrisleclercf1 · 5 months

Note

hey can you write for lance x reader where reader saw lance’s goatee for the first time and got horny and you know the rest is steamy

A/N: Felt this to my core, because I'm like that right now too! I'm making it suggestive but not full on smut

It was just supposed to be a calm day, watching movies and eating junk food. Lance has been dodging you for a while and you hated it, he clearly didn't want you to see something.

The doorbell goes off and you smile, running to the door and throwing it open. Your eyes grow wide, what was once your clean, baby-faced boyfriend was now this goatee, man before you.

"Lance?" He can't help but laugh, your confused face has him chuckling as he leans in. The facial hair scratches you, sending a shiver you hate how your entire body reacts to it. "Hey, babe." He pulls away and walks into your house.

"You, what the hell is that on your face?" Chasing after him, Lance throws himself onto your couch. Your cat coming over and rubbing against your boyfriend's chest. "It's a goatee, wanted to try it out. Do you like it?" Lance looks up, his hair fluffy as he pushes his out of his face.

Did you like it? Was water fucking wet? Because yes you liked it but also you were currently wet. "Yes, I like it.' Is all you grumble and sit down next to him. Wanting to ignore the ache between your legs.

Lance pulls you down and curls up with you, his goatee tickling you deliciously and it wasn't helping your situation. Lance knew what was going on, he knew your body so well that with your wiggling he knew he was getting to you.

"You must really like it." Lance whispers, when he rubs the hair against your neck, which has you whimpering. "Oh, shut up, you know I'm liking it." Lance chuckles and pulls away and sits up. "Well, let's see if you like it somewhere else." Lance makes quick work of removing your shorts and underwear all in one go.

Spreading your legs you moan, feeling that pleasurable scratch. "Oh fuck." You whimper, hands going to his hair as you really fall in love with his new facial hair.

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comradekatara · 11 days

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Genuinely asking—what changes would you make to the adult gaang designs? :)

this is such a fun question thank u for enabling me. i mean i draw them as adults sometimes so also check out my /oldergaang tag if u want visuals (altho i also change my designs a lot because my art is nothing if not inconsistent) but if i was just going with like standard character designs like if i could redesign that hideous “old friends” poster for example…

aang: get rid of that fucking. chinstrap. don’t give him white man features because what the hell is that. and let him wear his off the shoulder monk robes from book 3 because he was slaying with that fit. actually the way aang is drawn in imbalance is basically perfect i would retain that design into adulthood. thank u peter wartman for all that u do….

katara: i don’t mind the older katara design (from the little we see of it) but it’s also not nearly as cunty and slayful as i would like. katara is genuinely interested in fashion and loves experimenting with clothes and hair and makeup, i refuse to believe that as she ages and has more resources to tailor her style to her own personal tastes she wouldn’t get a little funky with it. like she kind of just looks boring and uninspired in her older design, and that’s unacceptable to me because she should be hot. adult katara should be the hottest woman you have ever seen in your life. and she should be buff, also. shredded, even.

toph: any signifiers of copness are obviously unacceptable to me. but even more that than, it’s very important to me that older toph is distinctly butch. i think she would cut her hair the second she realizes that there is no reconciliation to be found with her parents and that there is no reason to adhere to those confucian values. and she would wear a lot of sleeveless outfits (sort of like the shirt korra wears in “korra alone”) to show off her biceps and also space bracelet (spacelet) that is her prized possession forever. and she’s just kind of a hot hippie butch legend . period.

zuko: in the old friends poster he literally looks like a lizard so just like. no. wtf. and i like his long hair in theory but i don’t like that it’s styled after ozai and not ursa, i think his hair would be shwoopier and frame his face more. and his robes should be less spiky and militaristic and more designed for comfort because that’s what makes him feel most like his true authentic self and he deserves that. also weird for a guy who is trying to demilitarize the fire nation to wear an armor-adjacent type of outfit. so mainly he’d just look softer and more like his mom.

sokka: i hate buff goatee whitewashed sokka that is some kind of demon. lok did so little with him and yet said so much (all of it egregiously wrong, ofc). sokka would be fairly tall (although not as tall as aang) and have defined muscle but in a sinewy, lanky way. and despite always having enough to eat he’d still look somewhat malnourished just because he’s constantly overworked and exhausted and never takes care of himself. and his ponytail would be longer but he’d still shave the sides. and the older he gets the darker his clothes get until he basically just wears black all the time because at some point he realizes that it’s more advantageous to remain culturally ambiguous if he’s gonna be a cosmopolitan. and he wears glasses (which were a gift from kuei). and sometimes he uses a cane because he didn’t sufficiently take care of his broken leg after the war ended and now he’s paying the price for it. and his cane has a blade inside too, but he rarely ever even pulls out the blade because he can incapacitate someone with just a wooden stick anyway. so he looks like if a nerd was a shadow was about to collapse at any given moment was secretly ruling the entire world. and he’s not in any sort of front-facing position of power whatsoever but he’s actually pulling all the strings from behind the scenes, and it’s exhausting. his eyebags are visible from outer space.

suki: i don’t even think there is a “canon” adult suki character design besides her in her kyoshi warrior armor and makeup but to me casual suki just starts dressing more like sokka. like the loose baggy sleeveless shirts (except in a lighter shade of blue bc kyoshi island colors) and tight pants and boots. it’s a very dykey look already and they’re basically girlfriend twins so their styles would merge even more than it already has within the show itself. like sometimes people think that sokka and suki are siblings because they dress so similarly and give off such a similar vibe and they’re just like “but we’re literally different ethnicities??? and also we are currently making out????”

okay bonus round bc i can’t just neglect them

azula: she cuts her hair really short and as an adult leaves it to shoulder length for the most part because that’s more comfortable for her. like zuko, she also starts dressing for comfort, and for a period in her late teens stops wearing makeup altogether. she gets back into wearing makeup as an adult, but she stops caring about whether or not she leaves the house with lipstick on, and it becomes more about the process for her than the result. she’s comfy and cute and dykey.

mai: sokka is her lesbian style icon so after her first haircut that was inspired by toph’s haircut to piss off her parents, she gets an undercut and starts wearing her hair in a ponytail like sokka. as she gets older she also gets more confident in her body and doesn’t feel like she needs to wear baggy long-sleeved clothing at all times or she’ll die. and she isn’t rail thin as an adult either because she starts letting herself eat more than a single grain of rice at a time. also, she gets a sword.

ty lee: she becomes a kyoshi warrior so she starts incorporating more blues and greens into her wardrobe, but also more oranges and yellows after she embraces her air nomad heritage. and she just dresses very colorfully and has a vast rotation of different cute little outfits. and i think she’d also experiment with different hairstyles once she has the freedom to define herself outside of the aesthetics expected of her. she looks beautiful always

haru: he finally shaves that thang

#shadowoftheraven15 #asks #the gaang and #postwargaang #oldergaang

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celiastjamesoscar · 8 months

Text

Would That I

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You accidentally ran into someone at a frat party, and she quickly became your best friend. But you fell for her sister, who wouldn’t even give you the time of the day (this is a shitty description)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of weed, alcohol consumption, small joke of role playing sex, jokes about getting salmonella and dying, slight angst. Let me know if I missed any!

My Masterlist

AN: Came from this request here!

Word Count: 6.8K

You could smell the alcohol and weed in the air before approaching the house. It was Halloween night, and you were going to a frat party with your friends, even though you had zero intention of staying longer than ten minutes. You were just here to ‘shake babies and kiss hands,’ as your friend Miles would say.

He was the one hosting this frat party, so of course, you had to show your support for your friend, even though you hated parties and drinking. He was one of the biggest recruiters for his frat house and very well known across the campus for his promiscuous activities, but he wasn’t your typical frat guy. Yes, he loved to drink, party, and sleep around, but he was a nerd. He had been his high school’s team captain of Scholar Bowl his junior and senior year, and led them to a state championship win. And he was also extremely socially awkward; it pained you to watch him interact with people.

“What the actual fuck are you wearing?” Anika questioned as you walked up the stairs to the house. She and Mindy were patiently waiting outside for you, and they both laughed at your outfit. “What? This is a vintage Gucci,” you stated as you did a twirl for the girls.

You were dressed up as Alan Garner from the hangout, and Anika hated to admit it, but you pulled off the cheap fake beard and wig. You also had a fake baby strapped to your chest with cheap sunglasses covering your eyes.

“You are really asking me that, Mr. Worldwide?” You jabbed as you eyed Anika up and down. The girl wore a god-awful bald cap, a black suit, and a white shirt with a shitty penciled-on goatee. “Haters gonna hate,” Anika replied as she pulled a pair of sunglasses out from her jacket pocket and put them on.

You scoffed at the girl before looking at Mindy, “I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“I’m going to have a BF if you insult me,” Mindy scolded as she stared you down. She wore a jean skirt with white pantyhose topped off with a jean jacket and a pink shirt that said ‘Dude, where’s my couture’ in red letters.

“Was this your idea?” You asked with an eyebrow raised.

Mindy scoffed at your words, “Of course not! I wanted to go as Vector but Chad wanted to match,” she said as she rolled her eyes, “So now, I’m from White Chicks instead of Despicable Me.”

“I think you would have made a very sexy Vector,” you admitted with a smile.

“Thank you. At least someone,” Mindy sent Anika a glare, “thinks it would have been sexy.”

Anika rolled her eyes at Mindy, “I told you I’m not having sex with you while you are dressed up like Vector!”

“Okayyyy, this just got weird,” you interrupted as you walked past the fighting couple but stopped just before the door, “you two coming?”

The two quickly stood up and followed you into the house. The smell of alcohol and weed was enough to turn your stomach as you opened the door. You saw partygoers dressed in all different kinds of costumes as you pushed through the crowd and made your way into the kitchen. “I shall have a bottle of Smirnoff, and what will my lady have?” Mindy asked as she dug around the cooler full of alcohol. “I shall have the same, my lord,” Anika replied, and you almost gagged at their conversation.

You politely pushed past Mindy and fished around for a bottle of water, and you quietly rejoiced when you pulled up the last bottle. “Seriously? Water?” Mindy questioned as she glared at you. “Yes, seriously. This is a frat party, and I only know three people here!” You exclaimed while holding your water.

Mindy muttered a quiet ‘whatever,’ and you were going to retort when you felt someone throw their arm around you and pull you into a hug. “How’s my favorite homo doing?” Miles questioned while ruffling your hair. “I’m fine, Miles. Thanks for asking,” Mindy butted in with a slight smile.

Miles let out a small laugh as he left your hair alone and gave Mindy a fist-bump, “I’ve missed you too, Mindy, and you as well, Anika.” Anika smiled at the man as she also fist-bumped him. “Well, me and Y/N here are going to go hunt for some Latinas to hit on, you two gay-bo’s have fun,” Miles said while pulling you off into another room.

“Really? We are going to ‘hunt for some Latinas?’” You questioned as you followed Miles into the living room. People were elbow to elbow, and you had to shout over the loud music to converse with the man. “Obviously! I know your three main things you look for in women, and I bet we can find someone here who is all three,” Miles replied as she slung his arm over your shoulder while scanning the room for a potential hookup for you.

You scoffed at your best friend’s words, “I do not have three things I look for in a woman. I only care about her personality and her thoughts on Dr. Pepper.”

A sound of fake gagging caused you to send a death glare at Miles. “I forgot you're a Dr. Pepper whore,” your friend joked as he started listing your three interests on his fingers. “Number one: you love Latinas, same here. Number two: you love emo chicks; same here again. And finally, number three, you love a woman older than you, and guess what? Same here too!”

“I hate that we are basically the same person in different fonts,” you mumbled under your breath as you shoved yourself off Miles, causing you to bump into a stranger accidentally.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you quickly apologized as you faced the woman. She was close to a foot shorter than you, but had a beautiful smile and seemed like she had a charming personality. “No, it’s okay,” the girl replied slurredly. You could tell this girl was hammered out of her mind, and you had seen the eyes of preying men on her.

Not knowing what to do, you asked her, “Hey, I know we just met, but would you want to go outside with me?” The question was an innocent one; you didn’t want to leave an intoxicated girl who was pushing five feet nothing to fend off men like Frankie. “Sure,” the girl replied with a smile as she grabbed your hand and pulled you outside. You sent Miles a scared smile as the man responded with a comical smile and a thumbs up.

You followed the girl out to a small wooden swing and sat down next to her. “So, what’s your name?” You quietly asked. You had no intentions on hitting on this girl even though she was your type; you were just in need of some new friends, and you thought she could be a good addition.

Not that Anika and Miles were bad friends, you just needed someone else to hang out occasionally.

The girl reached her hand over to you while saying, “I’m Tara; it’s nice to meet you.” You gently shook her hand and sent her a grin, “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The further the night went along, the more you talked with Tara. You two quickly discovered that you both shared a love for art and elevated horror, and you even exchanged numbers with the girl.

“Oh shit,” Tara quietly mumbled as she stood up from the bench. You gave her a puzzled look before standing up as well, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just my sister is freaking out about me right now,” Tara replied as she texted someone back, presumably the sister in question. “You aren’t in any trouble, are you? Because I can try and help to get you out,” you offered, causing Tara to chuckle at your words.

“Thank you, Y/N, but I think Sam would kill you if she ever met you,” Tara joked while looking up at you before returning to typing.

A minute passed before Tara sighed and closed her phone. “Well, I better get back home,” Tara said as she moved in to hug you, but your fake baby got in the way.

You gave Tara an awkward smile as you pulled the girl into a side hug and whispered in her ear, “Babies, am I right?”

“Why do you even have that thing?” Tara asked while flicking its head.

You quickly wrapped your arms around the baby’s head and shielded it from Tara. “Hey! Do not hurt my baby Carlos!” You exclaimed.

“Carlos? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am serious. Do not hate on his name.”

“Why did you pick such an outlandish name?” Tara asked with a smile as she crossed her arms.

You scoffed at the girl’s words, “‘Carlos’ is not an outlandish name, Tara. And besides, it’s from the movie The Hangover.”

Tara chuckled at your words, “Oh my god, my sister loves that movie; she watches it all the time.”

“Is your sister single?” You asked with a playful smirk.

“Ha! Yeah, right. Good luck with that. Sam is pretty reserved,” Tara stated as she slowly started to walk toward the road.

“How come? If you don’t mind me asking,” you asked while following Tara and stopping on the sidewalk beside her.

The girl shrugged while pulling out her phone and texting someone. “Her last relationship ended badly. And ever since then, she’s just been closed off to everyone except me and always stalking me,” Tara admitted while putting her phone away, “but you’ll get a chance to meet her; she’s on her way to pick us up.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, only if you want to come over. I know we just met, but I feel like we could be friends,” Tara admitted with a smile as a black car pulled, parked, and the driver got out.

Tara continued talking to you, but as soon as you saw the driver, you couldn’t hear anything else. She was, to put it lightly, the most attractive woman you have ever seen. She had dark eyes that captivated you and a stern look as she approached you and Tara.

“Who’s this?” The alluring woman asked, and you could only think, ‘You’re future girlfriend’ with a giant smile.

The younger sister beamed at her sister’s question and placed a hand on your back, gently pushing you toward the woman. “Sam, this is Y/N. She’s my friend,” Tara stated.

“Hi,” you breathlessly replied with an awkward smile as you stuck out your hand toward Sam. The woman looked you up and down before scoffing and slapping your hand away. “How come you’ve never mentioned her before?” Sam questioned while crossing her arms.

“Because, Sam, we just met tonight.”

At that, Sam’s eyes instantly widened as she stared at her sister. “Are you serious?! You don’t even know this stranger, yet you came outside to be alone with her?” Sam exclaimed as she checked her sister over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Sam. And besides, Y/N isn’t that bad,” Tara laughed as she felt Sam’s hands check out of her body.

Sam stopped her movements and looked Tara in the eyes, “And how do you know that?”

Tara huffed at Sam’s question and turned to face you, “You aren’t going to murder me, Y/N, are you?”

“Yes, I am,” you joked with a playful smile, but Sam didn’t find it funny.

“Well, at least I get a heads up this time,” Tara chuckled, completely ignoring Sam’s bewildering expression.

Sam took in her sister’s words before shaking her head, shocked, “No, absolutely not. Come on, Tara, we are leaving,” Sam said as she walked to the driver’s side.

“Can Y/N come over at least?” Tara asked with puppy dog eyes and a small frown. Sam hated it when Tara did this, and her younger sister knew it always worked. Of course, Sam knew that Tara was only doing this to get her way, and Sam never denied her sister.

With a quiet ‘goddamnit,’ Sam allowed you to come with them.

“Thank you,” you said once you got into the back of the car and buckled up. You only got a small grunt in response, but you took it as a win.

The car ride was filled with low music and the occasional conversation between the sisters as you admired Sam. You were sitting behind the passenger seat, allowing you the perfect side view to look at Sam. Unbeknownst to you, Sam had caught you staring at her in the rearview mirror but made no verbal comment. ‘Fucking weirdo,’ she thought to herself as she quickly glanced at your love-sick eyes in the mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the Carpenters' apartment, Tara gave you a quick tour of the place and introduced you to their roommate Quinn, who naturally took a liking to you.

While you were on the couch talking with Tara, Quinn walked into the kitchen and found Sam glaring at you.

“She’s certainly something, isn’t she?” Quinn questioned while twirling her hair around her finger. You had taken off the fake beard, wig, and sunglasses and left your baby and baby carrier next to the door, and Sam had to admit, now that she saw your entire face, you were undeniably attractive.

Sam side-eyes Quinn before looking back at you and then back to the redhead. “I thought you were strictly men?”

Quinn chuckled at Sam’s response, “How can I thoroughly enjoy sex if I’ve never been with a woman? They know the female body better than anyone else.”

Not being able to form an argument against Quinn’s words, Sam nodded her head in agreement.

“Wish me luck,” Quinn said as she gently slapped Sam’s back before entering the living room, sitting right next to you.

And for some unknown reason, Sam felt a tinge of jealousy shoot throughout her body, making her hate you all the more.

You and Tara stayed up watching movies while Quinn occasionally hit on you. And when it came time for people to start turning in, Quinn gave it one last shot.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Quinn said as she rubbed her hands on her thighs before standing up, “you can always come sleep with me, Y/N,” she finished with a wink before walking into her room.

Once she was gone, Tara apologized, “I’m sorry about her. She’s like that with everyone.”

“Eh, I don’t mind the boost of confidence,” you replied with a smirk. Tara laughed at your words, and her eyes darted to Sam’s door as it opened.

Sam walked into the living room and glared at you before looking at Tara. “Alright, Tara, I think it’s time for Y/N to go home,” Sam stated as she crossed her arms.

Tara let out a small groan as she threw her head back before standing up. “Alright, Alan, let’s go,” Tara replied as she pulled you off the couch and walked toward the door with you.

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned while watching you, and Tara put on your shoes. “I’m taking Y/N home?” Tara replied with a puzzled look.

“Nuh-uh, nope,” Sam responded as she walked over to the door and stood before it, “you are not leaving here this late at night with her.”

With a scoff, Tara looked between you and her sister, “Well, what do you want her to do then? Walk home?”

“Yes,” Sam immediately replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So it’s not safe enough for me to walk with her, but she can go alone?”

Sam took a few seconds to think about it before responding, “That is correct.”

Tara sighed; she knew there was no point in arguing with Sam, but she got a bright idea. “Well, since you won’t let me take her home, you can,” Tara suggested as she removed her shoes.

“No!” You and Sam exclaimed at the same time but for different reasons. Sam didn’t want to take you home because she did not like you at all. While you, on the other hand, didn’t want to be left alone with the woman because you knew for a fact you would be a blushing mess and wouldn’t be able to form a sentence.

“I’ll take her home,” a voice called from behind you, and you turned to see Quinn leaning against her door frame. The redhead wore a sheer white blouse, and you could see her red lingerie bra.

“I’m fine with that,” you replied too quickly with a smile on your face.

But Sam scoffed at your words before moving to grab her keys. “Absolutely not. Come on, Y/N. I’ll take you,” Sam stated as she pushed past you to open the door. You gave Quinn a small wave and told Tara you would text her as you gathered up Carlos, your fake beard and wig, along with your sunglasses, before following Sam out to her car.

“Thank you for taking me home. I appreciate it, Sam,” you commented as you buckled up. Sam huffed in response as she started her car.

“How do I get to your house?” Sam asked after a few moments of driving down a random street. You told the woman your address, and Sam wanted to scream when she realized it would take almost thirty minutes to get to your house due to traffic.

The car was filled with the heavenly voice of Lana Del Rey as you leaned your head back against the headrest and looked over at Sam. You couldn’t explain it, but Sam was exactly what you would imagine a Lana Del Rey song would look like.

“Stop staring at me; you’re creepy as shit,” Sam said once she felt your eyes on her.

You awkwardly cleared your throat as you uncomfortably shifted in your seat while staring at the floor. “So, Tara told me your favorite movie is The Hangover?” You questioned while fidgeting with your fingers.

A few seconds passed before dryly said, “Yes.” And even more, seconds passed before she added, “I hope Carlos had a fun night.”

You lightly chuckled at the woman’s words as you messed with Carlos’ plastic hands, “Yeah, he had a blast tonight.”

Sam responded with a small ‘mhm’ as she continued driving, enjoying the awkward silence that filled the air.

When Sam arrived at your apartment, she realized that you lived in the nicer part of New York, and she loathed you for it. Not only were you a nuisance, you were more than likely a spoiled rich brat, and Sam could not wait to get rid of you.

“This is me,” you quietly mumbled while getting out of the vehicle with your items in hand as Sam rolled down the window to talk to you, “Thank you for the ride, Sam. I appreciate it,” you said as you pulled out your wallet and handed the woman a ten dollar through the window.

She looked between you and the money before staring into your eyes, “I’m not having sex with you for money.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head. “What? No. No! That’s not what I was implying,” you quickly defended before looking at Sam, “Why would you think?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders before speaking, “Because all you’ve done tonight is stare at me, so you either want sex or want to kill me,” Sam suggested.

“Why would I want to kill you?”

“Because you’re being creepy as shit! And you told Tara you were going to murder her.”

“Okay, fair enough. But I was completely joking about the whole murder thing,” you replied with a small laugh that Sam clearly didn’t find funny. You didn’t know about the past traumas the sisters have gone through together, and Sam knew that you didn’t know, but it didn’t make her feel any better toward you.

“Whatever,” Sam replied as she took your money before driving off.

“Goodnight, Sam!” You exclaimed while the car pulled away, and you sighed before heading to your apartment. Sam might not be the biggest fan of you right now, but you vowed you would win over the woman’s heart, no matter what it took.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winning over Sam was much more challenging than you initially thought it would be. Every time you visited Tara at her place, Sam wouldn’t even acknowledge you, and anytime you would try to talk to her, she would quickly dismiss you. But you were ever the persistent type, and you knew you would eventually wiggle your way into her heart.

It had been exactly four months since you met Tara, and the girl was planning a memorable evening for you two to celebrate the milestone in your friendship.

You approached her apartment door and knocked thrice. Within a few seconds, the door slowly opened and revealed a grumpy Sam. “What do you want?” The woman questioned while looking up and down, her eyes moving to your right hand, “Why do you have flowers?”

“These are for you, actually,” you replied with a smile as you handed Sam her flowers. Sam studied you before reaching out and accepting the flowers, “Thanks, I guess.”

Now, Sam would never admit this even if someone held a gun to her head, but the way she felt knowing that you had gotten her real flowers and not some cheap fake ones from the Dollar Store, it was different. No one had ever brought her flowers before, and especially not in a romantic way, if that’s the game you were playing at.

The Latina studied the flowers and couldn’t help but chuckle at them: lavenders and violets; how subtle you were.

“So,” you said with a cheesy smile, “I’m here to hang out with Tara.”

“Tara! Your weird friend is here!” Sam shouted into the apartment before walking into the living room, with you a few steps behind her.

‘Sweet, that’s exactly how I like to be announced,’ you thought while moving to sit on the couch. You silently watched as Sam walked into the kitchen and threw away the flowers, and it pained you to see the beautiful blooms go to waste.

A few seconds passed when an overly excited Tara came into the living room and jumped onto the couch right next to you.

“Alright, here’s the plan: we order pizza, watch a movie and make some cookies, and then drink wine and paint. Deal?” Tara asked with eagerness and a giant smile on her face. “Sounds like a deal,” you replied while matching her grin. “Good,” Tara exclaimed while jumping off the couch and hunting for her phone to call in the pizza.

When the pizza arrived, you and Tara ate at the kitchen table along with Sam and Quinn. Naturally, the dinner was a bit awkward, as Quinn kept on hitting on you, and Sam would glare at you. You weren’t going to lie; you enjoyed the redhead's attention and were more than eager to answer her questions about your hometown and what you were majoring in.

Once you four had finished the pizza off, Tara set up a movie in the living room while Quinn left to go meet up with one of her many gentlemen callers, leaving just you and Sam in the kitchen.

The Latina watched as you pulled out some cookie dough and began preparing. “You know, you could always help,” you said while turning on the oven and pulling out a baking pan, and cleaning it off.

“I’m good,” Sam dryly replied as she crossed her arms and continued watching you work. You felt uncomfortable with her eyes burning into the back of your skull, “Stop staring; you’re creepy as shit.”

Sam huffed at your words before letting out a sound that sounded like a slight chuckle. “You’re one to talk,” the woman retorted while watching you eat a raw cookie dough bite, “you know you can get salmonella and die from that, right?”

You lightly chuckled at Sam’s as you finished eating the cookie dough, “Then I will be the first person in the history of the world to die from salmonella.”

You ignored the quiet ‘thank god,’ Sam muttered under her breath as Tara entered the room. “How are the cookies coming?” The girl questioned while eating a raw piece of cookie dough as well. “There wouldn't be any if you two keep on eating them,” Sam stated as she pushed you away from the pan and set the pieces of cookie dough on it.

“Why did you do that? I am perfectly capable of setting them out myself,” you said while watching Sam finish placing the cookie dough on the pan. “Because you and Tara would just eat it all,” the older woman replied as she put the pan in the oven and closed the door.

“If you say so,” you retorted as you entered the living room with Tara. You sat on the couch first and allowed Tara to cuddle up next to you as she pressed play on the movie.

You two enjoyed the peaceful comfort that had fallen over you when Sam called out, “Cookies are done,” while walking into the living room. “Seriously, you two? Shrek?” Sam asked while she watched the screen. “Yes, Sam. Shrek is amazing,” Tara retorted as she pushed off you and practically flew into the kitchen.

You gave Sam a tight-lipped smile as you walked past her and ate some cookies with Tara. And soon enough, Sam joined you two in the kitchen.

The woman stared at you as you finished your cookie and walked toward you. “You have something on your lip,” Sam said as she reached out and gently wiped away a piece of chocolate from the corner of your lips. You felt your heart explode at the contact and your knees weaken; you thought you would surely die if Sam kept this up.

She let her thumb linger on your lips before gently swiping it across your bottom lip with a smirk on her own lips before walking off to her room. She didn’t know why she did it, but it stirred something in her as she watched your shocked expression and lustful eyes dance across her face.

“What the fuck was that?” Tara asked as she shoved you once Sam was out of earshot.

“Huh uh,” you replied with a love sock grin as you stared at the hallway Sam disappeared into. The more petite girl gave you a look of disgust before pulling you into the living room to drink and paint, but your mind kept on drifting back to the beautiful woman who hated you as you worked. And before you knew it, you had accidentally painted a picture of Sam. In the painting, she was leaning against a doorframe wearing a skin-tight gray long-sleeve shirt that highlighted her muscles with jeans. A casual outfit you had seen Sam wear numerous times, but she still looked breathtaking.

Her eyes amused you the most in the picture; even though it wasn’t a close-up painting, her dark eyes still seemed to pull you in, and you could faintly see the monster she hid behind them.

You fell head over heels for Sam Carpenter that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once every month, you would go over to Tara’s apartment for wine and painting, and it was probably the one night you looked forward to every month.

Not because you got an excuse to drink and stare lustfully at Tara’s controversial hot sister, but because you enjoyed creating the most horrific art pieces with the girl that no one should ever see.

“What the hell is that?” Tara drunkenly laughed one night after a few too many glasses of wine.

“I don’t know!” You said while watching Tara’s tone. You had created what was supposed to be your version of Sully from Monsters Inc but had made a giant blurb of blue and purple with the slightest resemblance to Ed Sheeran.

“Will you two keep it down?” Sam asked as she walked into the living room, wearing nothing but a bra and shorts.

You choked on your spit when you saw the woman and nearly fainted when a single drop of water ran down her defined abs.

“Sorry about that, Sam,” Tara replied with a drunken smile before returning to her painting, entirely ignorant of your lustful state.

One moment you were sitting next to Tara, and the next, you were in the kitchen next to Sam.

“Hey,” you husked out with a flirtatious smile and a nod as you leaned against the doorframe, trying your best to act sober and calm simultaneously.

“Hi,” Sam suspiciously replied as her eyes racked over your body and took in your drunken state.

“How you doin’?” You asked, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh at your shitty attempt to flirt with her.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Sam asked while getting out a bottle of water and facing you. You shrugged your shoulders as you pushed off the doorframe, “Would you like to come paint with us?”

At the mention of her sister joining in on the activity, Tara yelled from the living room, “Sam! Sammy! You have to come and paint with us!”

Sam sighed at her sister’s words before walking into her room, throwing on a random shirt and grudgingly sauntering into the living room and picking up a blank canvas as she sat beside you.

You three worked in silence as the soft sounds of Hozier filled the air. Sam would occasionally sneak a peek at your work, but you would always hide it. And when she finally got a good look at it, she wished she hadn’t seen it.

“Y/N. Why the fuck did you paint a naked lady?” Sam demanded as she stared at your artwork.

It was a sloppy picture of a woman wearing a white dress with one boob hanging out, and Sam had to admit, those had to be the biggest boobs she’s ever seen. The lady in the painting wore a faint black hat, and somehow, she looked familiar to Sam.

“Do not hate on my lovely wife, Samantha Carpenter. I shall have you know that Lady Dimitrescu is one of the finest women I have ever seen!” You defended while looking over at Sam’s artwork, “And what did you come up with?”

When you leaned over and saw what Sam had made, you couldn’t hide your disappointment. A frown pulled at your lips as you looked at a shitty painting of Sam stabbing you with a knife.

“It was a joke,” Sam whispered as her heart broke at your saddened expression. When she first started it, she felt good about it, and it made her happy. But now that she looked at your hallowed eyes and frowning lips, she wished she hadn't made it.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied as you cleared your throat and stood up, “Well, this has been fun, but I’m going to bed,” you finished as you walked off to Tara’s room and shut the door. You ignored the feeling of Sam’s eyes burning into your back.

“Way to go, Sam,” Tara scoffed as she stood up from the couch and went to her room to check on you. She knew of your feelings for Sam, and Tara tried her best to get her sister to warm up to you, but no matter how hard she worked, Sam refused to bridge.

But Tara didn’t know that Sam went to bed that night with regret plaguing her heart and mind as she went to sleep with the thought of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that awkward night, you stopped coming to the Carpenter’s apartment as much. At first, you would say that you would have homework to catch up on, which was true, but then after a while, you completely stopped coming over at all.

Of course, you would talk to Tara every day, but when she invited you over, you would miraculously have something else to do that prevented you from coming.

“It’s because of Sam, isn’t it?” Tara asked you. The two of you were back at another frat party for Miles, and you were enjoying a peaceful conversation outside when Tara finally asked the question that had been plaguing her mind for weeks. “Pshh, no,” you replied with a shrug.

“Y/N, stop lying to me; I know it’s because of that picture she made,” Tara stated as she stared up at you, “Sam didn’t mean it.”

You scoffed at your best friend’s words while rolling your eyes. “The fuck do you mean she didn’t mean it, Tara!” You exclaimed.

“I mean, she felt bad afterward.”

“Yeah, right. You’re just lying because you want me to come back over.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tara replied with a smile.

You two continued your conversation while occasionally people-watching until it was time to leave. Sam had slowly started to loosen up with Tara, so she was letting her sister go out more as long as she was there to pick up the girl. “Alright, Sam is on her way,” Tara commented when she read a text. You nodded at the girl’s words and tried to hide that you didn’t want to see Sam.

You hadn’t talked to the woman since that night, and you didn’t want to. Even though you were hopelessly devoted to Sam, you were hurt by how she treated you. You had been nice to her, and she would reject all of it, and weirdly, it hurt you to see Sam push you away.

Tara picked up on your pondering thoughts and reached a hand out, and rubbed it up and down your bicep. “Y/N, Sam is a grumpy asshole who is overprotective; don’t take it personally,” Tara said while reaching up to pinch your cheek with a smile.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Sam said as she approached you two. You quickly slapped Tara’s hand away from your face before looking at Sam. You had missed the dark-eyed woman and were glad to see her again, but you were still upset with the woman.

“No, you’re good,” Tara replied as she started following Sam to her car with you beside her.

The walk back to the vehicle was peaceful and filled with small banter between you and Tara, while Sam kept quiet until you ran into a group of drunken girls.

You could tell that they meant trouble before you were anywhere near them. The group was small, only consisting of three girls, but you could tell they were trouble as they stared down Sam when they walked past.

Sam pulled Tara into her side as the group walked by, and the woman said nothing when one of the girls shoulder-checked her.

“Come on,” Sam whispered while pulling Tara closer to her. You sent the group of girls a glance while walking, and you noticed how they stopped and turned around, and began walking behind you and the sisters.

“Hey!” One of the girls called, and Sam didn’t have time to react when she turned to face the girl and had a red slushie thrown on her.

The girls called Sam anything from a murderer to a liar, even to a whore, but Sam continued walking with tears in her eyes. She could handle all of the conspiracy theorist nuts, but she couldn’t handle having Tara see how she was treated.

So, when one girl called Sam a murderer again, you turned around and threw a punch. The sound of bone crunching rang throughout the air when your fist made contact with the girl's nose and was followed up by the girl's cries.

“You need to get your psycho girlfriend in check, you fucking murderer,” another girl cried out as she checked on her friend. You chuckled at the girl’s words and were getting ready to retort when you received a punch from the third girl.

You stumbled backward into Sam, and to your surprise, she caught you and whispered a quiet “I got you,” while you steadied your feet. “Come on,” Tara said as she dragged you and Sam away from the group.

The three of you walked briskly to Sam’s car as blood poured from your nose. When you reached the car, Sam opened her glove box and handed you some tissues, which you graciously accepted. You sat in the back seat while Sam drove, and Tara tried to talk to you.

“Tara, I love you so much, but I am in so much pain right now,” you choked out as you pressed the tissues to your bloody nose. Tara didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but your nose was definitely broken, and she was not going to be the one to put it back in place.

“How are you doing back there?” Sam asked while quickly glancing back at you. “My nose is in my brain!” You exaggerated while holding your nose, and Sam chuckled at your response as she continued driving.

When you got to the Carpenter apartment, the blood had stopped pouring out, and you were thanking the gods as it had completely covered the tissues in crimson blood along with your chin. “Sit on the couch; I’ll be right back,” Tara said as she pushed you and Sam onto the couch.

Tara disappeared into the bathroom and grabbed a first-aid kit before returning to the living room, and she laughed at the sight of you and her sister. The slushie on Sam’s shirt matched the blood that had dried on the tissues and stained your chin, and you both looked like you had gone through hell.

Tara moved the coffee table closer to you and started to work on cleaning it up when Sam stopped her. “I got her, Tara. Go to bed,” Sam softly spoke as she moved the first-aid kit closer to her. Tara gave her sister a questionable look before muttering, “Okay,” and walking off to her room.

You watched as Sam pulled out some alcohol wipes and gently cleaned up your nose, and you let out a slight hiss as the alcohol seeped into a cut on the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” Sam apologized as she finished cleaning your nose, “It’s broken.”

“I know,” you groaned, and Sam lightly laughed at your response. “I can pop it back into place for you,” Sam offered.

“Hell no,” you replied, laughing, “I would need lidocaine with epinephrine injected into my nose and then lidocaine sprayed into my nose! Then you would need a device to basically reach my brain and put a shit ton of pressure on my nose with it and your fingers to fix it!”

“Well, I’ll take you to the ER tomorrow so we can get it fixed,” Sam asked as she got up from the couch and saw the backpack you had left over before you went to the frat party with Tara.

“Y/N, what’s this?” Sam asked as she moved your bag and pulled out a painting. You whipped your head around at the woman’s words and instantly stood up from the couch and moved to her side. “That’s nothing,” you quickly said as you tried to prevent Sam from looking at it, but it was too late.

When Sam picked up the painting, she felt her stomach do involuntary flips, and her breath hitched in her throat; it was a painting of her and not just a normal one. She noticed imperfections about her that you saw as perfect through the gentle brush strokes, and she felt herself fall for you.

“I’m not one of your French girls,” Sam joked as she set the painting back down, but you noticed the smile that threatened to appear and how her eyes bravely traveled to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam added as she gently placed a small kiss on your cheek before going to her room.

You had no idea how you did it, but you somehow managed to make Sam Carpenter fall for you and you could not wait to see where it would take you.

#sam carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #Spotify

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