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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year

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Oh Bexxx, my dear, you KNOW how bad we all got it for Sam right now after that viewing of You Might, so could you PLEASE bestow upon to us some good ol' Sammy boy? I got some prompts that I know would fit him so well. “I’ve never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time.” , “That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.” , and, “I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong, it's your moans.” He just makes me FEEL things and I can't help myself, but please go nuts! I need soft smut asap! Thank you, queen~

Okay man this took too long for me to get to for fucking real but here it is! A full out, massive request filled for the BIFF! So I wrote this all last night and edited it tonight, I hope you fucking looove it. I have wanted to do this fic for like fucking ever. There is this movie I totally love called, “YPF” or “Young People Fucking.” It is a comedy that follows several couples who fuck on the same night, going from pre-lude and foreplay all the way through to afterglow and one of the couples are two life time best friends and the dude, Matt, gives me MASSIVE Sam energy. I have been craving doing a fic with him based off that movie so I hope you all enjoy this! Major credit to said movie for all the inspo and some of what must be my fave dialogue in any movie, (Shoutout to Kris you totally inspired me just as like a person with your attitude, speech pattern and confidence, what a real one.)

Let’s stop wasting time and let's get into it!

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 8.4K. Sam Wescott X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Best Of Friends To Fuck Buddies. Mentions Of Cheating. Shit Talking. Banter. Teasing. Making Out. Blow Jobs. Pre-Mature Ejactulation. Hand Jobs. Cunnlingus. Vaginal Sex. Intense Feelings. Crushes. Begging. Creampie.

—

It’s Making Me Freak Out!

—

You had been friends with him longer than you had been friends with basically anyone in your life at this point. He wasn’t your first friend but some people, just like how people have a tendency to do, had left your life, he however was still here, someone you could count and rely on. So naturally, when your years-long relationship ended, with a bag stuffed full of the belongings that had been kept at your now ex’s apartment you showed up on his doorstep, confessing as soon as the door opened, “We broke up.”

He was nothing but understanding, doorknob abandoned in favour of a rare hug between the pair of you as he said, “I always fucking hated that guy.” You naturally returned the hug with both arms with something that was a mix of a sob and a laugh, “Yeah he fucking sucks.”

He pulled back, hands still on your arms as he was saying, “RIght?! That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!” Samuel Justin Wescott could always make you laugh more than anybody else.

You ended up on his couch, favoured movies and too many snacks and empty beer bottles on the coffee table as you recounted the whole thing and got it all out of your system. You bitched and vented and he was nothing but supportive in that very him sort of way. You crashed there that night and as days bled into weeks and then months you started to do significantly better and how much Sam was there for you definitely helped you along. A few months after said difficult break up you had a growing concern gnawing at your brain stem that refused to leave but it was nuts, like the very idea of it was insane but you found it hard to let it go and as time continued to wear on it started seeming less crazy and more logical, it was downright genius.

And so one Friday, a few drinks into a hangout with Sam you said, “I think we should fuck.”

The next sound was him choking, followed by a cough, maybe stating that so casually with no lead up when he was mid-sip wasn’t the smartest move. A hand on his throat as he struggled to regain his breathing, his other hand setting down the beer bottle so he wouldn’t drop it, finally getting down a big enough breath to gasp out, “Wha-what?!”

You take another sip, trying to play is cool, a small shrug before repeating yourself verbatim, “I think we should fuck.”

Taking that moment to meet his gaze made you fight back a laugh, looking insanely shocked, mouth agape. Now it was your turn to say, “What?”

“What do you mean what?! My best friend of like I don’t even know how long just said we should fuck the same way someone might suggest a new restaurant to try for dinner! And I’m supposed to be like, normal or act like this isn’t-” He was rambling, you cut him off, “Isn’t what man?”

“Isn’t a huge fucking thing to just throw out there so casually!” He was seriously close to freaking out, spiralling hard and trying to brush it off and so you said, “Oh my God, forget it, nevermind!”

“No, no we aren’t going to! I know you, there is a reason for this, something is up-” You throw up both hands, “Nothing is up! I never should have said something, shoulda known you would have-”

“Would have what?” He asked and you sighed, not wanting to say it and he asked, leaning closer, elbows on the table, “Well?” So you finally said, “Gone all Wescott about it.”

“Gone all-oh my fucking God, you have so much faith in me!” He sounded exasperated but it was much more joking, much more light and so you smile and say, “Am I wrong?”

“What?” He asked and you couldn’t help but say, with a raise of your eyebrows, “Is ‘what’ the special word of the day or something?”

“Answer the question!” He pressed and so you said, “Am I wrong for thinking you wouldn’t be able to handle this without freaking out?”

He opened his mouth to retort but instead picked up his beer and took another sip and you laughed, “Because you totally DID just freak out. Or to quote myself earlier you went all-”

“Went all Wescott, yeah, yeah, okay you aren’t wrong, but still! Ow.” He replied and you reached out, a touch of his hand before saying, “I’m sorry for so rightfully categorising you.”

“Such a bitch.” He sighed with a roll of his eyes, it was fond and you laughed before saying, “And you’re such a pussy but what else is new?”

“Ooo you treat me so nice.” He teased and then followed up, “So why do you think we should fuck exactly?”

Another sigh from you, the heaviest so far, “Okay so, you remember, my ex, obviously.”

“Yes, the shit-bag, the man who’s name we dare not speak, of course.” He responded and you said, “Right, exactly. Well it’s been like months and whatever and I have been thinking really hard about where I went so wrong, not just like this relationship, but like all of them cuz like every guy I have ever been with cheated on me-”

Now you were the one who was rambling and spiralling, you took a deep breath to steady yourself, “-and as it is you are like the only man I can stand to look at right now.”

“Really?” He said with a quirk of his brow, seemingly impressed and glad that is the case, you smile yourself before you say “Yes, you are. So I have been thinking that I just need to fuck, just get it out of my system or I am gonna fall for some fucking asshole who is just gonna cheat on me again and then I will be right back where I started. Here. All sad and single and shit.”

He takes another long drink before saying, “So, you get so pent up and cock hungry that your asshole radar goes screwy and you end up fucking the first attractive dude you find, who usually ends up being a total dick?”

“Calling me cock hungry AND the hypothetical dude in this scenario an asshole and a dick in the same breath? Impressive Wescott, but yes I think that is what is sooo, if I fuck you, in theory, I can hold out until I met like a normal, non-cheating-non-jerk of a guy. For once.” Another sip before tacking on, “Present company excluded, obviously.”

Content that you had laid it all out there and he nodded along, “I mean it makes sense. Just, are you sure that is what this is?”

“Pretty fucking sure.” You affirm. He asks, tone unsure, “And you want it to be me?”

“Yeah! I mean again, you don’t suck and you’re the only dude I can even stand at present. And we have known each other foreverrr, I can trust you.” He seemed to no longer be freaking out and considering it, this seemed to be turning around, going surprisingly well, better than you could have hoped for honestly, he wasn’t running out the door with a lame excuse.

“So what do you say, Wescott? You wanna help out your ol buddy? My future relationships depend on you screwing my brains out.” You asked, holding a hand out.

He exhales amusedly through his nose, “Jeeze no pressure right?”

A hand runs through his short hair and you could tell by now his answer, you wait, a wide grin as he finally said, “Okay, okay yes, I’ll do it.”

“Yeah you will?!” You asked and he said with a laugh, “Yes, I’ll let you fuck my brains out so you can meet a normal non-jerky guy.”

He took your hand and you shook on it. Both of you broke eye contact with a laugh over how ridiculous this was, you said on an exhale with a shake of your head, “What the fuck are we doing?”

“I don’t fucking know anymore.” He said laughing along and the topic was shelved for that evening, happy at how well this went.

So you both had next Wednesday off so you thought that Tuesday night would be as good as any so you find yourself at his apartment and soon enough on his couch. Bottle of liquor and two shot glasses on the coffee table in front of you.

It seemed so easy last Friday but that was four days ago and when talking about it you’d already been hanging for hours and had multiple drinks in your system, it was all jokey and just very you guys, it was all in theory.

But now you were here, about to actually do it and it wasn’t like you hadn’t entertained the idea ever but thinking about it and actually fucking your best friend of like twenty ish years was a totally different kettle of fish. There was a brief conversation over a strong drink when you came in but you didn’t want to waste time, could feel the nerves and tension radiating off of him and yourself.

You and he were facing each other, both sitting side saddle on the couch, intending to start this the only way you knew how, to get one of the most awkward parts out of the way, your first kiss with him.

“Don’t be lame-” You started and he said after clearing his throat, almost defensively, “I won’t. Now, fuck off.”

“No pussying out.” You said firmly.

“I’m not, will you just-” You cleared your own throat, cutting him off and saying, “Alright. Come on. Okay?”

“Okay, okay.” He agreed.

A pause, both of you in the same position, you say, “You’re not moving.”

“Well, neither are you.” He fired back and you looked him up and down, “Jesus Christ man up, would you?”

He sputtered out, “I’m fucking…I’m closer to you than you are to me.”

Eyebrows knitted together as you respond to him with a question, “How the fuck does that work?”

He looked you up and down before saying, “Cuz I’m doing some moving and you’re not doing anything-” He calls it moving, you’d call it nervous fidgeting. You cut in, talking over him in the middle of his sentence, “You’re an idiot.” And he continued on with his thought “-you’re just sass-bossing me-” Finishing with a very mature retort of, “-you’re an idiot.”

“Shut up.” You fire back and he shh’s you.

All of this back and forth is totally just posturing because you and he are so nervous, reverting back to childish banter and barbs to try and hide how much this was, the inherent vulnerability and worry involved that this would fuck everything up. Even though Sam didn’t say it, he didn’t have to, you knew him and also had that same thought yourself, that if this doesn’t go well it could spoil everything. It could potentially ruin a lifelong friendship. You were trying to put the worry out of your head as much as you were sure he was too.

A move of your head, you start to lean in as does he, “Don’t be a pussy.” You remind playfully and he says with a half nod, tone unsure but eyes determined, “I’m-I got it.”

You didn’t stop your forward momentum and neither did he, and one moment there is still space between you and the next, there is none, your lips touch and holy shit you are kissing Sam Wescott. His lips are soft, way softer than you ever thought they could be, he was so warm too, and fuck, he knew what he was doing. It wasn’t like you ever thought Sam would be a bad kisser but you realise while this was happening that you don’t think that you ever thought about kissing him seriously.

Your mouth moved on instinct, kissing him back nearly immediately, moving with him, his lips parted first, his bottom lip under yours, a slip of his tongue that made a rush of arousal wash over you from him doing it first, and with confidence you hadn’t counted on from him. You returned his efforts further, your tongue making contact with his and you swear you could almost feel him tense, you leaned closer, deepened it slightly and so did he. The heat grew considerably for another ten seconds before it became too much. You ended up pulling away first, moving to sit back on the couch properly, feet on the cushion below you, knees swaying back and forth, he moved, sitting back on the other side of the couch, hands up as his elbows sat on the backrest of the couch.

“Okay.” You said with a nod, thighs tensing, trying to grapple with the immediacy of how much that one kiss turned you on and he agreed, a nod as he said, “Yup.”

You snuck a look at him, the way he had one leg crossed over the other, ankle rested on his knee, a thick swallow and you were sure he was hard even with the view of him obscured.

You took a moment, trying to calm down, you really hadn’t been expecting one dumb kiss to get to you this badly, you needed to get a hold of yourself and seemingly so did he.

It had been weirdly quiet for too long now, normally when it was you two together you always had stuff to talk about so this was, strange to say the least. Then again you and Sam had never kissed each other before. Another drink was had, conversation forced, you weren’t gonna let this fail so early, not when you had barely gotten started.

You take a deep breath, pick up your shot glass and down it, the burn feels good, emboldens you once more and you say as you sit back, “I think I’m drunk, you?”

“Maybe we waited too long.” He said and you replied, “Maybe we should have another shot.” You lean forward once more, pouring another for yourself.

You take it, knocking it back as he starts to say, “Ah I’m just worried about things going wacky.”

Shaking your head as you swallow the burn of the alcohol you hum, “Nuh-uh.” And he asks, “Do you think this is the smart thing to do?”

“All right, Wescott-” A hand on the backrest you turn to face him once again, sitting sideways on the couch you say, “I understand what you’re feeling, but listen up, cause I ain’t saying this twice. We all know my reasons for doing this but this is about you too and you’ve been stuck on some whore-bitch who dumped you-”

“Don’t call her a whore-bitch.” He interjected with a roll of his eyes and you didn’t stop, still going off, “-who dumped you like, seven months ago and treated you like shit for two months-”

“Three months and two days-” He supplied and you groaned, hands reaching out, one on his shoulder, the other on his chest as you emphatically said, “Oh, you need to get laid!”

He coughs before agreeing, “Okay yes.”

“Very, very badly!” You insist and he looks back over to you, “Yes, I get it.”

Onward you continued, “And instead of worrying about this, that, and the other thing, just focus on the fact that your balls need emptying.”

A raise of his eyebrows, eyes wider as you say, “Immediately. And that’s it. That’s all you think about because that’s all this is.”

He cocks his head to the side, taking in what you said, you think it might be sinking in, a nod but then he says, “I just don’t want to jeopardise anything.”

“Okay look.” You say, putting a stop to his next ramble of trying to talk himself out of this with his neurotic worries, “Sometimes it’s something. Sometimes it’s meaningful. Sometimes it’s caressing faces and fingers intertwined and whispering little secrets in ears.”

You say it softly, emotion and warmth colouring your tone as you look directly into his eyes, your hand still on his chest, feeling his heartbeat below your palm, firm, steady, quickening.

A small pause before you then say. “And sometimes a fuck is just a fuck.”

His smile broadens, neither of you looking away as you expound, your hand lifting off of him, “It’s grinding your shit and emptying your balls and falling asleep right after you come and that’s what you and I are gonna do to one another because that’s what friends are for.”

His expression is hilarious, smile had gotten dimmer, eyes showing he was trying to follow along but was confused, adorable honestly, but you don’t let it trip you up, a clap as you say, “So stop fucking up the game plan, down that shot, because right after that your old buddy here-” Pointing to yourself, “-is going to blow you.”

He breaks eye contact, shocked once again, almost as if it just hit him that this was really going to happen, you both seriously doing this, he turns back as he says with quiet disbelief, “Uhm…You’re going to-?”

You made a mimic the motion of sucking a dick before mouthing the words, “Blow you.”

His head turns once more, looking at the shot you poured minutes ago on the coffee table before sitting up, leaning forward, he picks it up and downs it, placing the glass back on the table, wrists rested on his knees and you sit in the same way to match him. You ask, “You ready?”

He hums with a nod, “Buzzed?”

“Yeah-huh.” He agrees.

“Trim that shit up like we talked about?” You asked and he said, “Uh-yeah, I already told you I do that on my own-”

“Okay.” You clap again and then turn to him, “High five.”

He does so immediately and without complaint as he always did when you offered one.

You scoop up the shot glasses and take them to the kitchen, he follows, bottle in hand, the shot must have worked because he asked, “What happened to you blowing me immediately, post shot?”

“Sorry I thought I should put these away because I know how your over thinking, worried ass gets, I would hate for you to be unable to get it up because you can’t stop thinking about dirty dishes on the coffee table.” You tease and he scoffs as he bottle set on the counter, “Again, the faith you have in me is astounding.”

You turn, push off the sink and come forward, your hands on his shoulders and you lean up, not dignifying him with a response instead choosing to kiss him again, sudden and deep, pressing him to the kitchen island. He returned the kiss, your tongue slipped into his mouth first this time and you could taste the shot still lingering as you were sure he could as well. Your head is swimming and you aren’t certain it isn’t from the alcohol, you break away, staring up at him, his cheeks were flushed, again you aren’t certain it isn’t from the drink on his part.

“Who says I can’t blow you in the kitchen, Wescott?” You challenge as your hands slide off his shoulders and down his arms.

You had seen Sam shirtless many times, especially at summer camp, but actually feeling him now, Jesus, seeing and feeling is a totally different thing. He had some good strength, you couldn’t wait for him to put it to use. Your hands find the top of his jeans and you start to unbutton them and he responds, “Uh no one I suppose, I mean you can blow me wherever you want to really, I’m not picky-”

You press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, a smile on your face as you say, “Hey Wescott?”

“Yeah?” He asks as you unzip his pants, then your hands catch the bottom hem of your top and you take off your shirt, you toss it aside, revelling in his wide eyes at the view of you just in your jeans and bra. You say fondly as you begin to sink to your knees, “Shut up.”

“Okay, shutting up.” He nodded, looking down as your fingers hook in his belt loops, you lean in, your cheek to his bulge, lips catching on his zipper as you rub against him before starting to tug his pants down his hips.

He lets you do so and then he can feel your mouth on him, through the last layer of his underwear, warm lips and even warmer breath has him putting his hands back, gripping the edge of the kitchen island. A few kisses are placed along his clothed shaft, his pants around his knees now and your hands slip back up his legs, nails dragging teasingly before you reach for the waistband of his briefs. You take a deep breath for courage before pulling them down and for the first time you see his dick, very hard and less than two inches from your face.

“Holy shit.” You utter, lips parted as your eyes drag over every exposed inch of him.

He looks concerned, “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing just fuck, dude, you didn’t tell me you were packing heat!” He laughed, “What? When was I supposed to bring that up in our friendship? Hey bud, awesome cookies you brought to the bake sale, also I have a massive dick.” He added on after another shared laugh, “Also is it really that big?”

You scoff, a roll of your eyes, “Oh my God only dudes with big dicks say shit like ‘is it really that big?’, fucking, of course it is!” You wrap your hand around the base and he inhales sharply. “I mean look at this! Look how much of it is still left after I get my whole hand around it!”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip before saying, “Yeah, uhm, shit, you’re right, it does look big in your hand.”

“Duh dude.” You laugh before leaning in, honestly excited for this, the excitement and want far outweighing the nerves, wanting to wow him. “Get ready for me to blow your mind.”

Your taunt makes him laugh, it’s breathy and nervous, “Yeah I’m ready for you to blow my dick, the jury is still out on my mind.”

You might have bragged about your dick sucking skills previously in your friendship and a running joke was him never believing you, and you were about to prove him how wrong he was. You start easily enough, a lick from midway down his shaft, up the underside of him before your tongue swirls around the tip and you hear his breath catch from above you. A small smirk on your face and he is about to say something but you shut him up by slipping the head of his dick into your mouth, lips wrapping right around that sensitive ridge and you suck deeply. He gasped out, “Oh fuck-”

Your hand is still locked around the base as you pull off of him with a loud pop. You are looking up at him, hand beginning to stroke him, using your own spit as lube as you ask with a faux innocent smile, “You okay up there Wescott?”

He nods and says on an exhale, “Yeah, yeah, M’ fine.” You smile wider as you twist your wrist on the upstroke, “Good.”

You lean back in, slipping him back into your mouth, taking more of him, sliding him in deeper and he grips the island harder, knuckles going almost white as he tries to contend with the feeling of how wet and hot your mouth is. You bob up and down, hand moving in tandem, tongue running up the underside of his shaft, flicks and licks, messy open mouthed kisses, quick pace, lots of sucking, allowing spit and drool to leak out, getting sloppy with it, just as he had previously confessed to liking. The amount he tensed when you latched onto and paid heavy attention to his balls made you smile against him.

This was done all while you were looking up at him. He was very much not looking at you though, heavy breathing, nervous fidgeting and you pull off once more, “Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yeah, yes I am, why?” He asked, seemingly out of breath and caught off guard by your question, “Just, you aren’t looking at me and are real fidgety-”

“You keep looking at me.” He admitted, eyes darted to you and away again quickly. You accuse, “You said you like when girls look up at you during head!”

“Yeah but it’s you! And so it’s not just like it’s a girl doing it, it’s all, ‘yeah that’s my dick in her mouth’ but when it’s you it’s like ‘oh there’s my best friend with my dick in her mouth’ and it makes me freak out-” He rambles and you laugh breathlessly.

“Wescott, everything makes you freak out! Just try to relax and focus on how good it feels, alright?” He nodded, a deep breath, the reassurance helps, he agrees, “Yeah, totally, how good it feels-”

And you had taken him back in before he finished speaking, his sentence breaks off with a choked off moan, his eyes closing and you feel a sense of pride as well as a drip in your panties.

He sounded really good when he moaned. It pushes you on. You pulled out your best moves, you pushed him harder into the kitchen island with one hand while your other stroked and you sucked deeply, taking as much of him as you could, you gagged and he seemed to like that. His dick twitched in your mouth, his hips rocked forward involuntarily, a groan broke out of your name and you did it again. Take him deep, gag, choke yourself a little, you pick up the pace as you deep throat and then he is squirming, all of a sudden his fists clenching and unclenching, “Shit, wait, hold on I think, I uh, ahhhn, need a second-”

You felt him throbbing in your hand and on your tongue and you stroked faster, a long suck with a moan against his shaft and he still tries to stop you, his eyes back open, looking down at you. Seeing you looking up at him with those, ‘fuck me eyes’ did not help at all on holdong off, a hurried moan of, “Wait, fuck, I said wait! Ohhh Goddd.”

He couldn’t stop you and so he couldn’t stop it and he came, hot and thick ropes spilling into your mouth and you don’t stop either. You slowed down slightly, not wanting to overstimulate him, doing what you could to draw out his pleasure, he was still holding onto the counter, weak in the knees, trying not to lose his balance from how hard he was cumming, buried well more than halfway inside you.

Big swallows, taking every single drop without issue until his dick finally stopped twitching and his hand was on your head, pushing you back and you allowed it. You sit back on your heels, the back of your hand wipes your mouth and you say, “Wow Wescott, I thought you’d last longer than that! What was that? Three minutes or four?”

“Fuck you!” He huffed and you said with a wide grin, “I mean you were supposed to but now-”

He was still catching his breath as he defending himself, “Gimmie a minute! I can go again.”

“Oh can you?” A taunt he clearly took offense to and he said, “Yes! I can, fucking, come on.” He reached down, one hand snagged his pants and underwear, he pulled them back up, his other hand hooking under your bicep and he hauled you up onto your feet. He dragged you along quickly, “Awe I must have touched a nerve! Where are you taking me?”

“To the bedroom.” He stated firmly as you were now in the hallway, “What are we gonna do in there? Cuddle till you can get it up again?”

He pushed you into the bedroom, hard, and you fell onto his bed. He flicked the light on the nightstand on, “No, I’m going to eat you out till I’m hard enough to fuck you so I can wipe that smug fucking smirk off your face and shut you up.”

The show of strength dragging you here, pushing you on the bed, the promise he just made, you tried to hide how hot it was. You got the distinct feeling he could back his word up and you hoped against hope that feeling was correct.

“You think you can do that?” You taunted, weaker than you meant to.

He was starting to take off your jeans, his own still open and low on his hips, he assured you, “I know, I can do that.”

A pulse of your clit and hard swallow and with a nod, holding eye contact with Sam you said, “Fucking prove it Wescott.”

Denim was tossed aside, and he took his shirt off, you assumed in classic Sam fashion trying to make it even because now you were in just your underwear and nothing else. He climbed on top of you, he kissed you, hard just like you had previously but also in the most him way possible. It was way too all consuming, hard not to get lost in, practically melting below him way too fast. His mouth soon dragged down, kisses over your jaw and your throat, his other hand sliding underneath, gripping the back of your neck and you gasped out, “What are you doing?”

“You said you liked it when guy’s kissed your neck like this?” He murmured, his tongue ran over your pulse point, teeth scraped as his nails bit in slightly, a light bite that had your back arching, “I-I do but ahh-”

“But what?” He asked teasingly, “Isn’t this just about getting off?” He had used that tone when you had both joked around countless times before but now with him on top of you and kissing your neck it made heat pulse inside of you.

“It is-” You assure, trying to ignore how hot you had gotten and how wet you were and he said, one of his legs slotting between yours, knee pressing against your clothed slit, “Well doesn’t this get you off? Or were you lying to me all those times we talked before?”

You shake your head, his other hand that wasn’t preoccupied with your neck, finds your hip, he makes you grind on his thigh and you moan, “I wasn’t lying.”

“Then stop whining and enjoy it.” He said easily as he started to slide down your body, lips pressing more kisses as he went. Soon he is on his knees on the floor, your panties are being tugged off, throwing them away and your legs are resting over his shoulders.

You should feel some nerves being so exposed before him but you mostly feel excited he is seeing you like this. Any of those small remaining nerves were pushed away when he breathed out, “Oh wow.”

“Wow?” You asked, his hands made contact, strong and firm resting on your mons, thumbs stroke down, parting you open, getting a good look, “Yeah, just, fuck, you’re soaked.”

He admitted and you bit your bottom lip. You try to conjure a response but none comes as you feel him closer, warm breath on your wet folds, his mouth doesn’t waste time.

His lips touched down on your clit and once again you are hit with the sheer softness and warmth of him. You suck down a deep breath as he lifts up, another kiss placed just right, a few mouth come and then his tongue slipping out to slide over you and fuck, you were unprepared for the jolt of pleasure that hits your system.

He didn’t tease you about his oral skills before getting started because, well, he knew he didn’t need to. He knew you heard the rumours that flew around at Camp Clear Vista, he knew you know what people say about him and his mouth. There had been many jokes made before about it, you not believing him already made abundantly clear throughout your friendship and within two minutes he was proving you wrong. He warms you up beautifully, open mouthed kisses, lips and tongue paying attention everywhere, running through every nook and cranny he could find, was impossibly attentive. As if he knew just when it was needed he switched to focusing more where you needed, tongue ran up and over your clit, a flick that made you moan, thighs tensing around his head. He hums out, “Good?”

A shaky nod at the rush of sensation the vibration provided, “Yeah, fuck, s’ good Wescott.”

Another hum, he seemed happy to hear that and doubled up. He found a rhythm that made your breathing extremely uneven. Your very ready and swollen clit between his lips, tongue circling it with a steady and even pressure that was currently melting your mind.

How was he this good? Where the fuck did he learn to eat pussy like this?

He ate you out like he was starving for it, like you tasted incredible and your satisfaction was the most important thing. It was more than that too however, you got the real impression he wasn’t doing this out of obligation, he was doing it because he really, really enjoyed it. You had been with guys who made claims of getting off on you getting off but it always turned out to be just that, pretty words and claims made in order to get into your panties, any upfront effort did not last once their dick entered the equation, but you had the feeling Sam was the genuine article.

You looked down and you understood what he meant previously when you were sucking his dick. Seeing him being the one between your thighs, eyes closed in concentration, doing this was a lot to handle, mainly, the view of it was way too hot, it made your cunt clench around nothing, leak more and your clit throb. You had to force your eyes closed as you tried to forget it was Sam who was making you feel like this.

It shocked you how fast he got you to the edge with only his mouth. You weren’t prepared at all for this, you were shivering, so close, panting and trying to come up with how to warn him, you had a thought of getting him to stop, taking a breather, switch to sex or something but again, there was no hope for you.

No time, no words came out, just a loud and honest moan, genuine vocal expression of the intense pleasure he made you feel as your fingers tangled in those navy bed sheets you bought him last Christmas. Hands tugging as you tried to ride out the most powerful orgasm you had in months thanks to his talented tongue, chest heaving as the feeling rose, peaked and then slowed down until overstimulation threatened to seep you, you panted out, “Fuck, fuck, stop!”

As soon as it left your mouth he pulled up, “What was that you were saying earlier about cumming quickly?” He asked and you finally managed to catch your breath, “Shu-shut up.”

You reached up, your hand found the back of his neck and you pulled him to you, your mouth crashing into his, effectively silencing his argument with your tongue in his mouth, tasting yourself on him. He moaned into your mouth and he moved closer, settling back on top of you, pressing himself into your hip and you feel how hard he is again. He wasn’t kidding, you had blown him what must have been less than fifteen minutes ago and he was raring to go. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him so much?

A rock of his hips and you broke the kiss, pulling on his jeans, “Get these off.” You demanded and one of his hands snapped your bra strap, “Get this off too then.”

“Fair.” You agree as he gets out of his jeans and underwear and you arch your back, unhooking your own bra, you toss it and then you and Sam are naked together in his bed.

This is really happening and you are so into it. Legs still trembling from how hard you came, seeing the sight of him totally naked and almost on top of you again, you are having trouble remembering the last time you were this turned on, felt like you had this much sexual chemistry with someone. That is all this was, right? Sexual chemistry. It had to be.

Sam was leaning over, he opened the drawer on his nightstand and reached in and when you saw the small foil packet you asked, “Condom?”

“Yeah?” He nodded, “What, you don’t trust me, Wescott?” You teased, “No, God no, I just thought you’d want one.”

“Nope, I’m safe and as you know, I haven’t been with anyone in months annnnd I know you haven’t either so-”

A beat.

“Sooo it’s fine without?” He asked and you shrugged with a nod, “Yeah if you’re fine with it I am too.”

He seemed unsure but he said, “Sure, I can handle it.”

“Me too.”

You weren’t sure that you could as you eyed him, without a doubt he is gonna be the biggest you’ve had like this but damn it did you want to try. He kissed you first again, slower as he eased on top of you and your heart was speeding up, you pushed on his chest and said, “Wait, no, hold on.”

You sit up and position him, sitting up with you in the middle of his bed and you slide into his lap, arms around his shoulders, his hands settle on your waist and he asks, “Like this?”

A nod, you wanted to be in a position you could be on top, have a lot of control and he still could too, you didn’t want to be under him, worried what it would do to you. “Mhmm.”

You moved your hips, grind on his shaft and your breath catches slightly as does his, “Fuck, so uh-”

“This is happening.” You finish his thought, prodding your slick entrance with him as he said, “Yeah once we do this-”

There was no going back. Instead of saying that you reassure him, “It’ll be fine Wescott. Sometimes a fuck is just a fuck remember?”

“Right.” He sighed with a nod, clearly trying to psyche himself up. He looked into your eyes, tone shockingly steady as he said, “A fuck is just a fuck.”

No point in waiting any longer. You position yourself just right and then ask, “Ready?”

He confirmed, “As I’ll ever be.” You don’t look away as you then start to slide down, your hands looped around the back of his neck, his hands on your waist squeeze as you start to envelope him. Fuck, you were plenty warmed up and totally wet but the stretch of him almost hurts.

Almost.

Halfway down your eyes close as you focus on how delicious it feels as you take him inch by inch until you settle in his lap, him fully buried in you.

A moment is taken then. Soaking in the feeling of fullness, of how good it is to have him bare in you.

Almost chest to chest you can just about feel his heart beating impossibly hard. Eyes open and you look up, meet his gaze and your own heart isn’t doing much better, threatening to beat out of your ribcage. Sam’s face is flushed, lips parted and eyes hazy, you ask, “You’re gonna pull out, right?”

“Totally.” He breathes and you start to move then. Hips rising, sliding him out halfway before letting yourself fall, impaling yourself on him again and you and he both let out a small moan. “Oh!”

You move again, starting to ride him slowly and a minute in he begins to match you, rocking with you as you both work together to find your rhythm, he breathed out, “Fuck.”

“Right?” You let out a light and musical laugh as your hips fell once more and he leaned in, his hands sliding over your back, he pulled you closer as he fucked up into you. His mouth was on your neck as your forehead rested on his shoulder, he said it so quietly you almost missed it, “That was the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

You almost wanted to ask him to repeat himself, you were hearing things, no way he said that. You must have imagined it, what you thought you heard from him pulled at something in your chest. You push that down and increase your pace, forget emotionality, embrace the physical, this is about fucking, about getting off, not sappy feelings shit.

Your legs wrap around his hips, feet now on the bed to better help yourself ride him. He was still helping as well, moving with you and when he rolled his hips, ground into you, a gasp tore from your throat from the friction it provided your clit. Your grip on the back of his neck loosened with every perfect move against one another, eyes closed, head falling back as you fill yourself over and over, grind and pulse and then you lose your grip. “Woah!”

Your back didn’t have far to go thankfully, hitting the mattress, your legs still over his hips, him still inside, he is the one to laugh now, “Shit, you okay?”

A laugh along with him, “Yeah, M’ fine.” You reach out, grabby hands, needy as you prompt him, “C’mon don’t stop.”

In the heat of the moment, desperate for more, you weren’t opposed to him taking control, it was Sam, you could trust him.

He takes the que, comes down to meet you, moves his hips forward, fills you all the way and you moan again. Your arms are around him, legs wrap tighter around his hips and he sets the pace now. You expect him to go back to what you were doing, hard and even but he doesn’t. He stays deep inside you and he grinds and the friction where you need it most makes you nearly choke. “Ah!”

You think it’ll stop but it doesn’t. It isn’t so much fucking, it doesn’t feel like it, not rough pounding, a race to the finish line, it is much slower, seemed imbued with meaning, he continues it, grinds and writhes with you and you do as well. It goes on for minutes, the flow of it comes with surprising ease, the pleasure is intense, you squirm below him, moan and your head is thrown back, “Oh-fuck, that-s-”

“That’s?” He asked, hopeful. His weight on top of you, the smell of him, his wandering hands, his strong body covering yours, the fullness, you say, “S’ too much!”

Your hands on his shoulders, one of your knees nudge his hip hard and you move, he lets you, he knows what you want, he lets you take control again, you roll together. Him on the bottom on his back, you fully on top and back in control.

You start at a much harder pace, faster. “Better?” He asks with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Yeah, sorry, couldn’t-” Your lie breaks off with a moan, he doesn’t push, instead he rocks up into you, crooked smile as he assures, “Don’t worry about it.”

A swirl of your hips and he angles his and you brush that spot inside just right, “Ohh! Yeah, yeah, right there!”

It happens fast, in about two minutes of both those spots being hit so right and all the build up, heavy breathing and shared moaning, bodies slick and working together, he says, “I’m going to come soon-”

“Oh my God, me too-” You confess, your hands were planted on his chest and he was so taken with you in that moment. You riding him, being so close with you buried totally inside, and you look down, meeting his gaze and the weight of all of it hits at once.

True, sometimes a fuck is just a fuck.

Bu this wasn’t just a fuck, it held too much meaning, felt way too good for that, even the sex that physically felt the best for you didn’t have this much emotion in it, never made you ache down to your bones with feeling like this did. It was Sam, it was always Sam, he had always been right there, understood you better than anyone. This wasn’t just some guy to use to get over your shit-head ex, no, this was your best friend.

And you looking into each other's eyes, not having sex, not fucking, much, much more than that, it was like you saw the same realization hit Sam all at once.

He speaks honestly as his hands squeeze your waist, “You’re so gorgeous.”

The smile on his face is infectious, you smile too, until a few more moves of your hips again drags you out of your head and your sudden emotional realisation and back to your body, so close to coming but not close enough to him.

You need to be closer, you reach out, your hands catch his, he laces his fingers with yours as they go above his head, pulling you down with him by doing so. Your hips don’t slow, almost chest to chest, fuck it, you decide to be honest too. “This is better than I ever thought.”

He agrees, a shake of his head, tone full of feeling and near wonderment at you and this, “Ever imagined.”

“Oh my God you feel so good-” You cry and he says in a rush, continuing to thrust up into you, “You’re so beautiful.”

It is so close, the feeling creeping up your spine, you say what you feel, it is as easy as breathing, finally admitting what you now know you have felt for God knows how long, “Oh, oh, oh, I love you!”

“I love you too!” His response fills your ears and that ends up being what pushes you over the edge as you stutter out, “Sa-ahh-am! M’ cumming-”

“Fuck, me too.” He grit out and you beg, you actually beg mid-orgasm, the three words break through the haze, far too blissed out and high on him to want anything else as you please, “Don’t pull out!”

It’s all the encouragement he needs, his hands squeeze yours as he allows himself to cum, filling you up with a long groan of your name, your hips squirm, walls milking him as your own pleasure finds its natural end. You both slowly stop moving, out of breath and you go slack on top of him, hands still linked together.

You can’t believe this is how it all turned out.

He kisses the side of your face and you smile, you let his mouth move until his meets yours, a soft kiss is shared, you pull back looking down at him. He breaks the silence, “I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong, it's your moans.”

A wide smile, “So I did hear you say that earlier.” He laughed lightly, “Did you? Shit I tried to keep it quiet, I swear.”

“Mmm, I so believe you.” You tease and he says, “Speaking of believing people, what was that about a fuck is just a fuck? Sometimes it means something and sometimes it’s about intertwining fingers but this isn’t that?”

His hands squeeze yours again, making a point of wiggling his fingers still between yours and you roll your eyes, letting go of his hands “Okay, okay you aren’t gonna hold this over my head our whole relationship are you?”

He pauses and asks, “Relationship?”

You scoff and purposefully clench on him, making him let out a small groan as you then ask, “Well we ARE dating now aren’t we?” He said it as if it was as clear as the fact the sky was blue, “Obviously.”

“Sooo?”

“Sooo I’ll try to be nice and only bring it up when it’s really funny.” You conceded, “I can allow that.”

“Or when it’ll help me win an argument” He joked and you sighed, “Okay sure, Sam.”

“So I’ve lost the Wescott finally? I’m officially Sam since I am officially your boyfriend?”

“Yeah you get first name privileges when you make me cum that hard.”

Another beat before you ask, “So you meant what you said right? You didn’t just say it cuz like I said it right?”

He said, tone shocked, “Of course I meant it!”

You defend yourself, “Cuz sometimes you do that thing where you say a thing because I did just to agree with me-” He laughed and his head fell back on the pillow, “Oh my God, no not this time. I mean it.”

“Really?” The grin almost hurt your face, “Well I bet you didn’t know but I had a crush on you back in fourth grade-”

“Awe I did know but I was with that guy so we couldn’t. I bet YOU didn’t know I had a crush on you in ninth grade-”

“I did but I was with-” You both stopped and you said, “Jesus we really do know everything about each other.”

Why did you ever wait so long and waste so much time on other people?

“Maybe that is why this is so good? Because we do?” He offered and you said, “Maybe, you might be onto something there.”

You press a kiss to his forehead as you start to slide him out and get off of him. One of your hands slipped between your thighs as you moved to the edge of the bed, “You in a rush to leave?”

“Hardly, going to the bathroom.” You tell him as you carefully get off the bed, still cupping yourself, trying to hold some of the mess inside. He laughed as he watched you try to do that and make your way to the ensuite bathroom, you asked “What?”

His hand waves dismissively as he says, “Nothing, nothing. Just I’ve never seen anyone look so cute and ridiculous at the same time.”

You threw up the middle finger on your free hand as you left the room and he called, “Love you too!”

#Sam Wescott X Reader #slasher x reader #BHF writing #BHF asks #Hope you allll love #I adore this movie too much and had too much fun with this stg

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courtneytincher · 5 years

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Ghosts of the Past Haunt Argentina’s Politics

(Bloomberg) -- When Alberto Fernandez took his presidential campaign to the Buenos Aires suburb of La Matanza last week, he was entering a sprawling low-income district that is friendly territory for Argentina’s main opposition candidate.His supporters cheered and held up banners—but Fernandez wasn’t the only focus of the crowd. Many waved flags featuring his running mate, and former president, Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner, and the woman they both claim as their political and spiritual mentor: Eva Peron.Images of “Evita” at a political rally almost 70 years after her death are testament to the durability—and flexibility—of the political movement she and her husband, President Juan Peron, unleashed on Argentina in the 1940s. A measure of its legacy is that both Fernandez and President Mauricio Macri are touting Peronist credentials as they contest what polls suggest will be a close-run election this fall. As they cast their votes in Sunday’s primary amid recession, austerity and rampant inflation, Argentines are at a crossroads: continue down Macri’s route of market-friendly reform, however painful, or return to populist-leaning policies as espoused by Fernandez—with widespread expectations that his hand will be guided by Kirchner. Whichever way they choose, Peronism is likely to play a role. Romanticized by Hollywood and on Broadway, the hard reality in Argentina is that Peronism polarized its homeland long before Donald Trump entered U.S. politics or Brexit overcame Britain. That divisive legacy is again playing out in the campaign for Argentina’s presidential election in October.Peronist leaders governed for roughly half the last seven decades, the movement surviving years of violent clashes and military interventions from the 1950s to 1970s. Whether during the pro-business administration of Carlos Menem or the nationalist governments of Nestor and Cristina Kirchner, corruption allegations have dogged Peronist presidencies while economic performance has failed to match expectations.“In general, it’s been a disaster,” said Marcos Buscaglia, chief economist at Buenos Aires consulting firm Alberdi Partners. “A closed economy, fiscal and monetary imbalances, strong unions, high regulations and corruption—those have a lot to do with Peronism.”That’s a view at odds with the roughly one third of Argentine voters whom polls show are certain to vote for the Fernandez-Kirchner ticket— voters like Noelia Irusta, a grade school teacher and self-confessed Peronist who attended the rally in La Matanza. She’s backing Kirchner-Fernandez “to reignite manufacturing” in Argentina. For her, Peronism is a “feeling” that gives “hope for the people and for workers.”Peronism is historically of the nationalist left: it favors assembly line workers over business owners; labor unions hold an outsized influence; and its rhetoric is rooted in protest, anti-elitism and centered around national industry. But it’s since navigated a circuitous political path that allows it to be claimed by almost anyone. Despite night-and-day ideologies, the top two tickets have prominent Peronists. Macri chose as his running mate Senator Miguel Pichetto, a moderate but more socially conservative Peronist. Kirchner, a left-winger with a track record of populist measures, is running alongside Fernandez, another Peronist with more centrist tendencies than her. Peronist representatives are thus almost ensured a top role in the next administration, whatever the outcome. That instinct for survival underscores the nebulous nature of the movement, a fluidity that has allowed it to adapt, evolve and ultimately prevail through decades of political and economic turmoil. Indeed, Peronism is so ideologically elastic that it was able to accommodate both the privatization and nationalization of Argentine oil company YPF within just 20 years. “The one that’s true to Peronism is the one who is pragmatic and sensible about knowing what the mood is,” said Paula Alonso, an Argentine history professor at George Washington University. “Peron himself was extremely pragmatic. He changed his mind and his policies several times.”Even now, a majority of Argentine lawmakers identify as Peronists. But it is Kirchner who is most often seen as carrying the Peronist torch—and controlling its levers, from currying favor with governors to access to key strongholds like La Matanza. And that’s a worry for investors desperate to avoid a repeat of the cratered economy, currency controls and default that marked her eight-year presidency.Macri succeeded Kirchner in 2015 pledging to lead Argentina out of international isolation, but a rocky turnaround forced him to request a record $56 billion bailout from the International Monetary Fund. It’s arguably a reflection of the mistrust with which Kirchner is still regarded that polls suggest Macri could win a second term despite inflation running above 50% and the peso down almost 80% since he took office.Yet there’s no doubting Kirchner’s popularity: Fernandez filled a high-school sized gymnasium in Buenos Aires; five days later in another suburb, Kirchner packed a 15,000-seat arena more used to hosting music acts like Sting. Many see her potential return as the solution, not the problem. Argentina is in the throes of “a really bad economic crisis, and I think the only person that can bring us and this country’s economy forward is her,” administrator Nazareth Perez said at the arena. The others “all want to be Peronists, but they’re not,” she said. “The only person that has Peronism is Cristina. She always had her political conviction, she always had her political ideals, she never abandoned us.” Juan Peron was a product of the Great Depression of the 1930s that forced Argentina to industrialize before World War II sparked a boom. Argentine leaders weren’t prepared for the pitfalls of rapid urbanization, real wages were in decline, and among workers there was “a sense that they had been excluded from the process,” said Joseph Page, Peron’s biographer and a professor at Georgetown Law. Peron, he said, “won them over.”When he took office in 1946, Peron gave labor unions a seat at the table, and wages for industrial workers rose 53% in the next three years, Daniel James, a professor at Indiana University, wrote in a book on the era. Unlike his conservative predecessors, Peron avoided talk of lofty democratic ideals and sought to deliver concrete gains. Evita meanwhile won mass popularity as a champion of the poor and working classes.“She picked up the banner and became the soul of Peronism during his first presidency,” said Page.For the opposition, the imperative in this year’s election is to go beyond the common nostalgia for Peron’s ideals and appeal to the undecided voters who will decide the outcome. A sense of the challenge that presents is on show at the Recoleta cemetery in Buenos Aires, where a steady stream of visitors come to pay their respects at Evita’s tomb.Enzo Paez, 50, a school teacher from the Patagonia region, said he has a high regard for Evita and her legacy of helping the poor, but says he’s not a Peronist and has yet to decide how he’ll vote. The Peronism of her era “had more loyalty to work and humble people,” he said. “It didn’t have so many personal interests in enriching the political class.”Peronism got flipped on its head during Menem’s decade-long tenure from 1989. He campaigned on a Peronist agenda, but in office favored business-friendly reforms, lower tariffs and privatization. He also liked to flaunt his wealth, once driving a Ferrari from Buenos Aires to a beach town. Yet multiple corruption cases and an epic economic collapse stemming from his policies tainted Menem’s legacy.The late Nestor Kirchner entered the Casa Rosada in 2003 and oversaw a strong economic rebound following a disastrous crisis and default before handing the presidency to Cristina in 2007. In the ensuing years, pension funds were nationalized, currency controls imposed and economic statistics tampered with. Lately, Macri has taken a leaf out of the Peronist playbook, freezing prices from electricity to food to appease recession-weary voters.Given Peronism’s chameleon nature, the question of what role it plays in the next administration remains open. Pichetto’s presence could rally enough support in Congress to pass Macri’s labor and tax reforms. Or Fernandez could leverage Kirchner’s backing to implement populist measures. Yet the political acrobatics look precarious: both Pichetto and Fernandez criticized their respective running mates early on, raising the prospect of impasse in office for either ticket.On the threshold of returning to office in one guise or another, Peronism faces the contradictory prospect of maintaining influence while losing its ideals. Julio Barbaro, a political commentator and former Peronist lawmaker, thinks that moment has already arrived. Peronism “is a memory that drives votes, but it’s dissolved into nothingness,” he said. “It’s no longer a party, it’s a memory; that’s all.” To contact the author of this story: Patrick Gillespie in Buenos Aires at [email protected] contact the editor responsible for this story: Alan Crawford at [email protected], Juan Pablo SpinettoFor more articles like this, please visit us at bloomberg.com©2019 Bloomberg L.P.

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