#i am not a saddie

[iamasaddie]

Congratulations, bestie! 💕 This is only the beginning. You are SO talented, one of my fave people on tumblr. I would like to request. . .

Joel Miller vaginally double-penetrating you with a dildo and degrading you for it 😇

Thank you! Love you so much! 🖤🖤🥹🥹

My love, my dark queen, thank you so much! You have no idea what an inspiration you are to me! Your creativity astonishes me every fucking day, and I'm here for it!

Now, I said I was gonna do 500-words drabbles. I know I did. But I'm a clown, and something happened with my brain. I hope you find this little thing enjoyable. Because I sure as fuck had a lot of fun writing it!

he hurt me but it felt like true love

paring: dark-ish!Joel x f!afab!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 1,5k~ warnings: ER; PWP (for real, no plot at all); erotic humiliation; double vaginal penetration; sex toy; emotionally estranged Joel; kinda toxic Joel?; explicit sexual content; degradation/praise; unsafe PinV; pussy slapping (barely); dirty talk; anal scare; no use of y/n. let me know if I missed anything. dedicated to @toxicanonymity MY MASTERLIST (I will eventually create a separate link for all the celebration fics!)

"You didn't actually think I won’t find it, did ya?"  

You've been wet for at least an hour now. When Joel came up to you in the kitchen with his unusual, deceivingly sweet nothings, rubbing your lower back and whispering how much he missed you, you were stupid enough to stay clueless. Joel was not the soft kind. Joel was not the "kiss you out of nowhere" type. And he definitely wasn't the "I missed you today type". He was the "missed this fuckin' pussy' while lightly slapping your quickly dampening crotch" type, and you were okay with that. So why his sudden softness didn't raise alarms inside you right away you didn't know. Now, as he is standing between your parted thighs, buried to the hilt inside your ever-so-welcoming heat, and swaying the rubber dick you've kept hidden in your bedside table, everything clicks. Judging by the look on his face you know you're fucked. Big times.

"I guess, if my cock's not enough for a slut like you, I might just use it. Maybe then you’ll stop bitching so much."

Without as much as waiting for you to come up with some kind of response, he continues pounding into you, his thrust harder than ever. His hand tightens around the black rubber of the fake dick and for a second you're mesmerized by how easily his large hand fully envelops the sizable girth. You're quickly brought to reality when Joel presses the head of the dildo into your asshole. You start sweating, and at the moment it is not at all from excitement. You know Joel, you remember him whispering how much he wanted to fuck your other hole, but it never came to that. The thought terrified you more than thrilled, and today wasn't the exception. But Joel looked angry, he looked like he might just…

"No, no, please, Joel, not my ass," you trashed your head from side to side, trying to push him off you but he held you down too hard.

"What?"

Admittedly, 'no' wasn't a word that sounded in your bedroom often. You were ready to give all of yourself to him, however he wanted. Your response to his desires was almost Pavlovian: whatever he wants - he gets, and you thank him for that. So when the syllable slips from your lips, you don't know if he's more angry or dumbfounded. 

"Please," you continue to beg, knowing full well that was his Achilles' heel. Joel loved seeing you ruined, and begging for release, for a break, didn't matter. Your voice is shaking and the tears streaming down your cheeks are not an act you can put on sometimes to give Joel what the demon inside him craves. "Not my ass."

His pounding is relentless, you know you'll have bruises on the inside of your thighs from his hip bones hitting your skin so roughly. When he slaps your thigh and bares his teeth, you kind of already know that you've won. 

"Do you fucking think you call the shots here, doll?"

"No-oo," your voice trembles, but this time not from fear, because he's already easing the pressure of the fake dick from your tight ring of muscles but not removing it completely. "I don't, I," you whisper, shaking your head, "I beg… just… please."

Joel is smiling, and no matter how maniacal it looks, your insides flutter. He is the most handsome man you've ever seen. 

"Think your cunt is greedy enough to take two cocks?"

And the fear's back tenfold. You can't even fathom the idea of having two cocks inside you if they were regular-sized, and Joel... Well, he was huge, to say the least. It took you a week of abstinence after you first fucked him - or, rather, he fucked the shit out of you - to not feel like you'd been torn apart. You grew accustomed to him with time, the feeling of him on top of you, or pounding into you from behind, weighed out the discomfort that you grew to love. But what he suggests now, you don't think it'll work.

"What?" By the look on his face, you already know there's no way he's gonna fall for you begging again.

"If I'm not putting it in your ass, you better beg me prettily to put it in your cunt. Or," the unsaid rest of the sentence speaks for itself when he pushes into the tight entrance of your ass but it doesn't give because of how hard you clench it. Your choices are quite slim when you weigh the options.

"Please, please, Sir, put it in my pussy. I want it so bad. I want you to fuck me with your cock and the toy, please."

He huffs a laugh at the stream of pleadings leaving your breathless body, finally bringing the toy away from your asshole and inspecting it. 

"I guess both of those cocks are mine now."

You play along, because you know, the more obedient you are, the less he'll want to hurt you. "Please, stuff me full of your cocks, I need them in my pussy."

His sigh is heavy like he's tired of you, but by now you know him too well to see through the bullshit. He's excited, more than he's been in a while.

"What a greedy fucking cunt, can’t believe you ask for two cocks in your hole when you could barely take mine alone."

You nod fervently and spread your legs further when he all but throws the dick in your face. "Suck on this for a while, I'm tired of your whinin’."

With trembling hands that you barely unclasped from the sheets you'd been grabbing too long and too tight, you bring the toy to your mouth and get to work. He doesn't even look at you as you slurp and spit on the rubber, the obscene sounds are just background noise.

He brings one of his fingers to your entrance that's already stretched on his dick and pushes in with methodical movements, after a few pumps he hums in approval and squeezes a second one into your pussy.

You squeeze around him and bite down the rubber dick in your mouth, because you're overwhelmed with gratitude for him actually taking time to stretch you out, but at the same time because you feel like you might snap any second.

Joel slaps your clit with the palm of his free hand and stares into your eyes, a warning in his voice. "Fucking relax that cunt. You wanna be a greedy bitch, you gotta act accordingly."

For a fleeting second, he circles his thumb over your clit, and even if your brain couldn't make you, the sting of pleasure forces your body to relax, that’s when he pushes his third finger in and starts thrusting with abandon.

"That’s it, little slut, now we're talking." 

The sheer pressure, the amount of him inside you is hard to comprehend. You feel like you have a fever, you sweat profusely and you don't know if you want to cry, scream and push him away with zero strength that was left in your body, or beg for him to continue. You don't have the time to figure it out, your body taking over your mind when a string inside snaps and you cum all over him. Your pussy spasms at first, and you know it's painful for him because he hisses and takes his fingers out, but you don't own your body anymore. You can't do anything about it. You don't even exist. After the twitching of your cunt around his still very hard cock subsides, you feel euphoria. Like you're a puddle, not even a liquid state, but a gas. The cock falls out of your mouth, and it's coated in saliva, bite marks visible on the silicone head.

Joel stretches as far as he can without separating from you and snickers. "Fuckin' glad that wasn't my cock in your mouth."

You're delirious when he lines up the dildo to your stuffed, drenched hole. As he slowly pushes in, the scream rips from your chest, and you tear the side of your lip with its intensity. You're overstimulated and trembling, you feel your legs start to shake and get numb. The fullness inside you is soul-stirring, it almost feels like you're being torn apart and put together into a better version of yourself. Stronger, more desirable. It's a heady feeling, you're afraid of it. Afraid of never feeling it again.

"Good job, looking like a proper fucking slut, baby." His praise is sick and foul, and it makes you feel like you're worthy of fucking Gods. "Fucks sake, you're so stretched, my cock'd fall right out of ya whore pussy if I took that toy out, wouldn't it?" He tries to push the cock in at the same time as the dildo, so the emptiness when he leaves changes to the dizzying feeling of fullness when he pushes back in. The tell-tale feeling of tightness enslaves your body and once again you can't help it when your body is constricting without your volition, warning you about the upcoming burst.

The tears run down your face and you taste their saltiness on your tongue, you almost drown in it.

"Don't fucking cry." Joel's enraptured by your body, by your strength, but he'll never tell you that. "You asked for it yourself, now be a good slut and cum on my dicks, come on."

When your release gushes out of you, you fail to tell Joel that for the first time with him, you actually cried tears of divine happiness.

#i am not a saddie #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #iamasaddie fic #dark smut #dark!joel smut

[itsokbbygrl]

Tag game -> Open Pinterest, make a mood board out of the first 9 photos that show up, and tag your moots.

Thanks for tagging me @javierpena-inatacvest 🥰

Couldn’t get away without having papicito in there, I spend too much time looking at his pretty face for that.

Tagging a couple old friends @mommotommo and @eeveedel I wanna see your Pinterest, pals.

#tag meme #can you tell I use Pinterest for dream wedding planning???? #I might be a saddie but a saddie who can’t help being a hopeless romantic #also interior design WHICH will be more prominently focused on once I close on my house #(yes I’m an adult™️ now who is attempting homeownership life is wacky) #anyway #papicito if ur looking for a life partner (romantic or platonic tbh) and want to have a fun 1920s party to celebrate that decision I am free

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #angst

[urbanfiltered]

:(

#idk i just feel like after a long day i would like to come home to #a clean living space #filled with love and affection and adoration and comfort and relief #bro i can’t take this much longer #sleeping on a floor matress in a 1 bedroom apartment is not it #lying in bed alone is also not it #i need my own place #and like #at least a cat to curl up with when i go to bed #even when i have a really good day i just feel like coming home to This Dump makes the whole day unsatisfying and makes it hard to #go to sleep #idk. #maybe i drank too much tonight unsure #tagged: 2 am saddies

[hauntedwitch04]

Just a Mirror

Sam Winchester x plus size!Reader

Words: about 6.3k words

Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy time, eating disorder, hating on your own person, please be careful if you sensible about this themes

REQUEST: Hi :) I saw that your requests are open, and I was wondering if you could do a Sam Winchester x plus sized reader; an angsty fluffy friends to lovers that has some smut and reader hating herself in the mirror and possibly problems with eating

Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you @desicroft02 so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea love and I hope you like how it came out, if you don't find yourself with what i wrote, feel free to say it to me and I'll write to you a new one !

p.s.I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. I was never the skinny girl, but with the years I've grown used to feel different to others girls, and even if sometimes I really hate what I see in the mirror, I kinda arrived to the point that I see both the flaws and the strenghts of my body and I love both, but some of my closest friend and this kinda of disorder and I tried to help them the way aI could so this one is for them too.

In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.

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Why?

This is the only question that floats in your mind, while, with thick tears in your eyes, you try to read the enormous book about whatever monster you are hunting with your friends in this little city, forgotten by God.

You and your childhood best friends are hunting some monster that you still haven't been able to figure out what it is, despite the fact that you are reading yet another list of monstrous animals in the story, while Dean and Sam are still out at the bar where you had decided to spend the evening, and from which you had decided to escape as quickly as possible, without giving any kind of explanation to the two hunters, holding back tears and trying not to meet their confused gaze

You and the boys have been friends since you were six and they were seven and eleven. You met on a rainy October day when you were still living at Bobby's house, after your father had died in a hunting accident after leaving you with him, and being his friend and seeing him almost as a brother he couldn't help but welcome you and raise you as if you were his own daughter.

Dean and Sam had just been left in the rain on the narrow dirt road by their father when you looked out and saw these two cold, sad, and at the same time angry children. You could see the resentment they felt for the man who looked less and less like a father and more and more like an army general, ready to train soldiers and not raise children. Immediately you went to Bobby and told him of the presence of those two unknown children who were in your driveway. He had immediately run to get them and brought them inside the house, worried that they would get sick from standing in the rain, and wondering why their father had left them there, without saying anything.

"He said he didn't have time to explain and that he had to get there as fast as he could, but that he would call you this evening." Said the older of the two once they were seated on the couch in what must once have been a beautiful dining room, and was now more like an ever-growing mountain of books. It is to your adoptive father that you owe all the culture and ability to read texts on the supernatural that most hunters would not even know how to open.

As he spoke you could see the blond child trying to hold back the sadness within himself and show himself as a big boy, almost pretending to understand why his father abandoned them like that without saying a word; in contrast, the one who was supposed to be the smaller of the two, with unruly brown hair, looked more like a beaten puppy, as he wetly moved his feet lazily on the floor, listening to what his brother had to say, but not hiding his sadness and anger at his daddy's decision.

"Baby, couldn't you get Sammy a glass of water for him while Dean and I go make a call for a minute?" Bobby then asked you suddenly, and you realized that you were lost in thought as you watched and studied those boys. You nodded quickly, trying not to let it show that you had spent all that time staring at them, as you heard Bobby's voice and that of the blond boy, apparently named Dean, drift away, only to hear the front door open and close.

After a few minutes you returned to the living room with a glass in your hand, and walked over to the brown-eyed boy, who was now looking at you and smiling shyly. You handed him the glass with a beaming smile, and he could do nothing but blush a little and retract his body a little, letting shyness take possession of him as he took the glass.

"Thank you." He told you in a faint voice.

"You're welcome." You replied as you sat next to him on the sofa.

"My name is Sam." He said, only to freeze and blush again as he held out a hand for you to shake, just as grown-ups do. You told him your name, and he commented that it was a very nice name, and that he liked it a lot, before going back to being silent and staring into the sad void.

You not being able to see what you considered a new friend feel so bad, you shamelessly asked him why his father had left him there and if that was why he was sad. He turned to look at you, and unknown how, he burst into tears, while with his hands he covered his face, not wanting to be seen as weak with someone he had just met, but you didn't give a damn.

Immediately you hugged him and listened to him talk about how his father was behaving with them, how his brother was struggling more and more to hide that he was tired of his parent's behavior, and how he was lonely and sad, constantly changing towns and seeing nothing but his family. That poor seven-year-old seemed to be thirty years old because of the problems he was telling you about, and as much as you were even younger because you were only six, you felt like you could understand him, because for a while that had also been your life before your father passed away.

You remained thus cuddled on the couch and fell asleep, lulled by the warmth of the fire slightly away from you and the new friendly presence that had entered your lives that afternoon, so much so that when Bobby and Dean returned after trying for a varied amount of time to contact John, and finally once succeeding in being insulted and put down by him, they both smiled at the sight of those two small and defenseless children embracing each other, as if to protect each other from the world. But no one knew that night before you fell asleep you had promised to protect each other forever, no matter how, when or why you would always be there for each other.

That was how you got to know the Winchester brothers, and the hatred for their father also began.

You awaken from your thoughts when you hear the motel door open and close, realizing that another time had gone into the whirlwind of memories and you were lost in remembering again when life was easy. You hear someone coming toward you with heavy footsteps, so you wipe away the tears you didn't know were there on your cheeks, which like small streams had almost made a furrow along your skin by now.

You sense right away who it is, but you don't have the strength to turn around so you continue to cry silently as you feel two arms wrapped around you, and Dean's warm body resting on your back as he leans down so that he can put his head in the crook of your neck and hold you better. Ever since the two of you met it was immediately like big brother and little sister between the two of you, and even now despite the fact that it has been a long time since you were children and in your spare time you enjoyed stealing cherries from the neighbor's tree, there is still that complicity and understanding between the two of you that once existed.

He knows exactly why you escaped so suddenly from the dive bar you were both in a few hours ago. Sam had seen a beautiful girl, the classic cover model of some magazine, slim and with all her shape in the right place, taking a drink at the bar, looking seductively at him as she put the drink straw between her lips. Sam's hormones had not let him repeat twice that clear call to fuck directly in the bar's bathroom, a bathroom from which you were coming out as he was sticking his tongue down the throat of that fake and at the same time perfect babe, who in his arms looked so small and yet in the right place, toned against his strong muscles, as opposed to how you would have looked with your shapely body. You couldn't stand there and watch the boy you love for so long now make out with someone else, so without explanation you left and went back to the motel where you took two bedrooms for the case. Usually you take two rooms only when Dean wanted to find someone to take to bed, unlike Sam who kept his sex life much more private than his brother, but since he and Cas had come out a few months ago you had not taken the second room, having practically grown up together and thus having no problem sharing space. That night, however, when you had arrived in the small town Sam had insisted on taking a second room, and stubbornly had not told his older brother why when he had asked him, and somehow your heart was preparing for what would happen, but in fact nothing would totally prepare you for what you would see in that bar and how your heart would break.

Dean squeezes you tightly, as if he is afraid you will disappear at any moment, and that heartfelt squeeze only makes you break the weak dam you had built when you saw him come in, and you burst into endless weeping.

"I know baby, I know." That's all the blond man can manage to say to you, as he gets you up and carries you toward the bed, so you can lie down and take off your shoes, before coming close to you and holding you in his arms, until exhausted, you fall asleep safe in Dean's strong hold, while he whispers soothing words to you.

The next morning you wake up with the sun gently caressing your face from over Dean's shoulder. You smile for a second, imagining what it would be like to wake up in the other Winchester's arms, and soon after your heart, as if pierced by an arrow, bleeds at the memory of what happened last night. You get up, shifting your friend's arms, and go to the bathroom to wash and freshen up, when you hear the door to your room open, and a male voice, known even too well, shout to your still sleeping friend.

"Dean, wake up!" Sam yells, and you behind the door hold a hand over your heart, just imagining her beauty after her usual morning run to stay in shape. Her long dark hair tied back in a light bun, her forehead sweaty and muscles still tense from exertion.

"I'm awake, you asshole." Dean replies, as you hear him get up and go get some coffee. "You could have deigned to make less noise last damn night, you know there were people here who wanted to sleep."

You hear Sam snort at his brother's words, then respond to him in an aggressive, cold tone.

"Well then there are people who wouldn't want to see you run off to fuck wherever we go, hold hands all the time or make love wherever you are. And you know something else too Dean, I thought you were a better person. Why her? Come on you've had a lot of girls, and it wouldn't cost you anything to find a thousand more, why did you have to choose her!?" Says the younger brother, before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

You close your eyes and try to control your breathing as you feel yourself lacking oxygen. You feel tears coming to your eyes, but you try with all your strength to push them back down. You take a few minutes to control your emotions as all you want to do is fall to the floor on your knees and scream until you can't hear yourself anymore, but you stay strong and open the door to see Dean immediately in front of you, looking pained and guilty, seeing your state.

"You didn't tell him." You say in a calm, quiet voice, not asking, but stating that your best friend had not told about his new relationship with our angel friend.

"I never found the right time." Dean tries to say, then looks down. "I never had the courage, every time I seemed to miss the words."

"Sam would never judge you, and you know that." You say as you feel a pang inside your heart, remembering the words the man you love had used a few minutes earlier. You feel your clothes sticking to your body like glue, too tight, so tight that you feel as if they have pre torn. You feel how the floor gives way under your feet, you feel how a billion eyes are on you ready to judge you, you feel something inside you break, but you can't let anyone but yourself see how mere words have hurt you, so you grit your teeth and continue to look at Dean stoically, as you feel a single and only tear escape down your face.

"I know, but I'm afraid in the same way, I don't want it to end like last time." Dean confesses, still looking at the floor, but crying clearly, as his words take you back to when you were nothing more than kids and he had come crying to you one night, confessing that he had fallen in love with a boy he had met during his last case, and that his father after finding out had beaten him so badly that his scars remained, and had forced him to watch pornographic movies, reminding him how "a real man acts." No one had ever seen you as angry as Dean, and Bobby when he heard you scream and came to watch that night as you swore to heaven that you would kill John Winchester. Dean had never told Sam about that episode, not wanting to worry him since he had just run away to study at Stanford, and asked you to do the same. It has been so long since that night, yet the memory of that pain and that man still frightens the wonderful person in front of you.

"But I swear I will. He has no right to think such things about you! I-I will tell him-" He begins to say, as he tries to wipe away the tears running copiously down his face. You, moved in turn and knowing that like you he too was remembering that fateful evening, take his face in your hands and bring his eyes to gaze fixedly into yours.

"No, you won't do it now, you will do it when you feel like it." You comment chuckling as you caress his face. He looks at you unconvinced and you see his inner battle inside whether to accept your proposal or to be as always too good and allow the world to kick him in the balls.

"Please be selfish for once. And if I serve as your cover, so be it, not that I would have had any chance with him anyway." You continue, smiling at him as you feel your heart slowly shatter. You see Dean ready to retort, but you have already disappeared back into the bathroom, crying silently. Once the bathroom door is closed, you stop to look at yourself in the mirror and realize how disgusted you feel about your body.

There is not a single thing about you that you like: your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your chest.

The more you look at yourself, the more you want to break that all-too-truthful mirror, which tells an unfiltered reality, a sad truth that for so long you had tried to ignore, but which now that Sam had spit it in your face you could no longer pretend not to see. So you decide at this very moment that everything was going to change, you don't know how, but it was going to happen.

So weeks go by, Sam still won't talk to you, and slowly you continue to sink into the stupid realization that he doesn't because only he, like you, can really see your body, and that he hates you for it, so now convinced that you have to change your body to be loved, you begin to eat less and less and more rarely, and what little you put in your mouth to make Dean happy, who sees you getting sadder and more tired, is rejected from your stomach just moments later when no one is looking at you. This situation hurts your body and your heart, but you do it so that you can look at yourself in the mirror without wanting to punch him, but things seem to get worse and worse. You look at yourself and you never fit, before you saw a body you didn't like, now beyond that you see a person you don't like.

Dean is getting more and more worried about you, seeing you getting paler and paler and thinner, but every time he tries to talk to you, you put on a smile and pretend that everything is going well and that the only reason your shirts now look huge on you is that you are working out more, but he knows that you never liked sports and that is why he knows you are lying to him. He tried to talk to Sam about what was going on, but all his brother managed to say by pouting was that if he needed relationship advice to go somewhere else and that he didn't want anything to do with the two of you.

Dean was on the verge of smashing the plate he was holding in his face and yelling at him to open his eyes and see that you love him more than Dean does right now and that he is fucking in love with their favorite angel, but then he had seen Castiel's face and knew he couldn't let him down after he asked him to keep a low profile and let as few people as possible know about their relationship.

Dean had never felt so lousy as deciding between the love of his life and a friend in need, but he knew that if you found out what he had done you would insult him, so he played it cool and moved on, as if nothing had happened, while he continued to try to take care of you, with little success.

It's been almost a month since Sam had said those horrible things, and you're not getting worse and worse, but in order not to show it in front of your friends, you keep doing the same things as before, trying to have the same cheerfulness.

You are now hunting a werewolf in a remote town in a state you don't even remember. Your body is weak, you haven't eaten anything Dean has brought you in the last three days taken at the various fast food restaurants and bars he had found along the way, and what little you had put in your mouth had gone down the drain shortly thereafter, hating yourself just for having the idea that you could eat something. You feel your eyelids as heavy as shutters, the muscles in your body are nonexistent, and what few are left ache from the mere effort of standing and walking, while your head throbs incessantly.

In this you are scouting around where the last victims had been killed, to see if you can find any more information, but so far you have not had much success, so you decided to split up.

You are barely holding the flashlight in your hand, too heavy for you, when you feel a sudden dizziness that forces you to lean against the wall. You stay a few minutes trying to catch your breath, eyes closed, breathing in the cool night air around you, when you hear a noise coming from a short distance away from you, like a dog growling. With difficulty you open your eyes and see before you a sight that is frightening to say the least: the werewolf you were looking for is looking at you ravenously, while a dark laughter rumbles from his belly to his mouth. Quickly you try to pick up the phone to call Dean or Sam, but unfortunately your mind is so clouded that you can't even do simple things like this and the phone slips out of your hands to the monster's feet.

"The Winchesters' little friend!" He says, seeing who you were trying to contact. "I've heard a lot about you, among the monsters you are known as their true weakness: so small and helpless, you wouldn't even survive my bite, I'll do you a favor and eat your miserable heart." He continues as he gets closer, and you do whatever comes to your chin at this moment, as you feel death coming slowly but comfortingly too, like an old friend you haven't seen in a long time. You scream Sam and Dean's name as loud as you can, hoping that at least one of them can hear you, your lungs aching from how much breath you had to use and your throat burning from the effort as you feel your strength failing.

You lean back against the wall again, this time with your back, and let yourself slide down to the floor, as your vision goes completely black and your ears become plugged as when you go too deep underwater, and the world seems more and more distant. You have one last flicker of life before you pass out completely in that dark alley, at the mercy of that monster, and you hear Sam's voice call out your name for a moment.

Your heart loses a beat, and then completely dark.

You awaken with a jump and a gasp as you sit up on the bed on which someone has carried you. Your head immediately begins to spin like a spinning top, and your vision fails again as you feel a warm hand settle on your shoulder and bring you back to lie down.

"Relax, you're safe now. It's okay." Says in a low, soft tone a rough voice, leading back to Sam. You, shocked to know he is there next to you, open your eyes with difficulty and find yourself lying on the bed in your room, in the bunker, as you see him kneeling beside your bed. His face shows the weariness he feels, but in his eyes shines a strange hope as he looks at you mixed with sadness. You place your gaze on the rest of the room and see your favorite chair, where you usually sit to read your books or do your research when you are tired of sitting in the library, covered with blankets and pillows, making you realize that your favorite giant has been sleeping there for what seems to be even more than a couple of days, otherwise everything looks the same, unchanged, and strangely everything now seems to make more sense with the presence of Sam and some of his things in the room. Immediately you slap yourself in the face at that thought, reminding yourself that he hates you, and that the reason he is here is because Dean will have had better things to do than watch you sleep.

You're about to tell him that he can leave, and leave you alone, knowing that he doesn't even want to be in the same room with you, as he has shown recently, and that in case his brother asks you, you won't tell him, but he beats you to the punch and starts talking.

"First of all I want to say I'm sorry, you don't even know how much, and I certainly understand if you never forgave me in your life, because I wouldn't forgive myself." Sam says, as you see tears forming in his eyes. You try to stop him, confused as to why he was making that speech, but he stops you in turn and begs you to let him finish.

"We found you just in time, by "luck," if you can call it that, that asshole had decided to torture you a bit before eating your heart, and we got there before he could do it, but when Cas touched you to treat you he said he didn't know if you would survive anyway because your body was too weak since you hadn't eaten for too many days. Dean insulted me and even beat me up a bit before explaining the matter from his point of view." You can't help but widen your eyes, and Sam chuckles seeing your expression, as two tears run down his face, and he darkens a little again before continuing, without looking you in the eye.

"Yes, he also told me about Cas, and also about that affair with our father to make me understand why you decided to cover for him."

You close your eyes for a moment, expecting a series of insults, but you only feel his lips rest on your hand, so you open them again and see him leaning over the bed, as you feel his tears coming hot to contact your cold hand.

"Thank you." The boy confesses in a whisper. "Thank you for everything you did for Dean, thank you for always taking care of him when I couldn't or was too blind and stupid to, I don't deserve to have you in my life."

You can't find the words, and so you do the only thing you can think of this moment, and you take his hand and squeeze it, while barely smiling at him.

"We will always have helped each other, you remember. Then Dean will be your brother, but it's like he's my brother too." You say as you pull his face up and force him to look into your eyes. You see him cry even harder, a few sobs escaping his lips, as he squeezes your hand even tighter.

"I'm sorry, I promised I would always protect you, and instead I was so stupid and jealous that I didn't realize what I was doing." He tells you again, only to stop for a moment and look at you this time with a resolve he lacked until a few seconds ago. "Why did you stop eating? How come you covered your mirror in the bathroom? Dean found the remains of the one from before in the garage, thought you didn't like it and got a new one, so he changed it for you."

Immediately you remember, one night in a rage after looking at yourself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, you had started punching it until it had become nothing but stardust under your bleeding fingers, and the next day when you had returned from your walk with the dog, you had found a new one, with a note from Dean who had said that seeing that you had taken it off, thinking that you didn't like it anymore, he had bought a new one, so realizing that you couldn't escape that vicious cycle and knowing that if it happened one more time it would arouse even more suspicion, you had simply covered it up, and hoped that no one would ever learn of that dirty secret, and instead, here it all was for all to see.

You look at Sam in those damned puppy-dog eyes of his, and burst into desperate weeping. He, seeing you in this state, instinctively picks you up and holds you in his arms.

"I disgust myself Sam." You finally manage to utter those damn words, and immediately you feel as if your soul lightens as you feel his arms grip your body even tighter as if you could disappear at any moment, and at the same time he does it with an innate delicacy, as if it were a precious crystal figurine that can be broken under his gaze. "I'm disgusted by my body, I'm disgusted by every single thing about me, and you're disgusted by it too, don't lie to me. I thought if I lost weight things would get better, but they don't, I feel worse and worse." You continue, while somehow trying to get away from him.

"In what sense would you disgust me? When would I have ever said such a thing?" He asks confusedly as he looks at you, tears have dried on his face. His eyes range and seem to want to imprint your every little detail in his memory. His gaze makes you blush as you try to find the words to tell him how his words have done nothing but unleash a storm that had long been locked up somewhere inside you and was just waiting to be released. So you take a deep breath and tell him everything, while he looks at you attentively and astonished, his arms still around his body, as if he needs reminding that you are there beside him, and that you are not just a product of his mind.

You tell him everything, every little thing you had felt hearing his words while you were locked in that damn bathroom, your feelings and emotions in the month to follow, along with all the thoughts and all the actions you had put in place in the hope that he would no longer hate you, and that maybe you would hate yourself less, too. He starts crying again, and hides his face in the crook of your neck.

You stay a few minutes clasped to each other, in silence, after you have poured your heart out in front of him, ready to suffer the consequences, when he takes your face in his hands and stares at you steadily with those chocolate-colored eyes of his, and for a moment you feel your breath short.

"Don't ever think of such a thing again. Never. You are perfect exactly as you are, there is nothing I would change about you, there is nothing I don't love about you." At his words you stand still, as if petrified, afraid that a single movement of yours could mean the breaking of this beautiful illusion. "Yes, I am tired of holding all this in, I love you, I love you so much that I am sick just thinking about not having you near me for a second, I love you so much that I would have been ready to kill my brother for stealing the girl I love all my life, I love you so much that I would be ready to climb the highest mountain in the world and scream it to everyone!" He continues as he stands up on the bed, and begins to move his arms quickly, just enough to make you laugh. At the sound of your laughter he turns to look at you, and smiles even more, to return next to you on his knees and cup your face in his hands. "I love every little, tiny thing about you madly. I'm crazy, crazy in love, and I was a fool because I was so convinced that getting away from you would be better for you, that I didn't realize that you were suffering because of me, and I'm sorry. On the one hand I would like to let you go and make you happy, but on the other hand I am an extremely selfish being and I only want you for myself." He continues as he rests his forehead on yours, whispering the last words. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

You look at him, and not even realizing what you are doing, you take his face in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The kiss you exchange arises as sweet and gentle, like two flames dancing in an elegant dance side by side, testing each other's reaction, in the same way your lips move over each other, slowly tasting that new sensation. You feel her soft lips caressing yours, until neither of you has a single breath left.

"I love you too if you hadn't realized it idiot." You comment making him laugh. "I love you, and for so long I would have preferred not to because it made me sick, yet I could do nothing but love you. The only reason that kept me alive was my love for you, even though it was also my poison." You continue by looking into his eyes, and you see the pain in his.

"If you forgive me, I will do everything to correct what I have done." He looks at you, with a penitent and pleading gaze, as he takes your hands in his, before you release one and place it on his right cheek, and he instinctively leans into your hands, seeking that simple contact.

"I've already forgiven you moron." She laughingly comments, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again, but this time the air in the room is different. The atmosphere becomes more erotic and intriguing. You feel his hands carefully explore your body, running his hands down your sides from your breasts to your butt, where he rests his large, warm hands, before slipping them under your T-shirt and caressing the skin of your back, making you shiver. You feel his hand rise higher and higher to the level of your bra and undo the hook that held it, but then he stops. Parting your lips he looks into your eyes for a second.

"If you don't feel up to it it's perfectly fine honey, we can stop here-"Sam says unsure, but you stop him.

"Afraid it's too much for you Winchester?" You ask as you raise your eyebrows, and see him smile, before resting his lips on yours, then creating a trail of kisses from your mouth to the chest exposed by the shirt you are wearing, down your neck.

"God, how I've missed you." He comments between kisses, but then stops again and looks at you seriously. "Anyway, I wasn't kidding myself, if you don't feel comfortable we can stop here."

You look at him, in his eyes only the pure affection and love you feel for him, and then put an end to all his doubts.

"I want to do it Sam." You say in a whisper as you take the bottom of his shirt with your hands and slowly slip it off, thus also dropping the bra he had unfastened a few minutes ago. "I want to do it with you Sam."

He looks at you and doesn't let you tell him twice, and he resumes his attack on your neck, leaving obvious signs of his passage, and then moves on to your breasts.

"God, you're perfect." He whispers before teasing one of your nipples. You moan softly at that sensation, feeling his teeth clench, his lips kiss and his tongue lick every single inch of your body, worshipping you like a goddess, a queen, tasting every inch of your skin.

This wonderful moment is interrupted, however, by the unannounced entrance of Dean, who, seeing the scene of his brother splayed across your body as he kisses your breasts, and with one hand explores the rest of your body, while you clutch his long hair in your hands, moaning his name shamelessly, lets out a small scream, before closing the door again.

"Damn you guys could warn." Comments the older brother, as Sam with speed grabs a blanket to cover you.

"Should we announce? You're the one who entered the room unannounced!" Sam replies in turn, making an expression that makes you laugh. "You can still come in now jerk."

"Bitch." Dean retorts, to open the bedroom door again and have a stupid grin plastered on his face. "So, I see Sam hasn't exactly figured out how to talk and resolve a situation, usually the mouth should be free to talk, not busy sucking-"

"You try to say one more Winchester word and I'll tell everyone about Christmas with Cindy McWood." You threaten him, and see him whiten, before his smile returns to its former self.

"Well what can I say in that case guys, good conversation and be sure to use protection, I'm not ready to be an uncle." He says closing the door behind him, then opening it again. "Not that I wouldn't make a great uncle, but I would say I'm too young and then-"

"Out!" You and Sam scream in unison, and the only thing Dean does is give you the finger before walking away. The two of you stand still for a moment weighing what just happened and burst out laughing, before Sam's lips find yours again.

"Where were we?" He asks you next, and you can't help but smile and moan at feeling his lips on you again.

It's shaping up to be a very interesting night, long but interesting, and you know that in the end maybe by tomorrow morning you can slowly look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the reflection of the man you love behind you supporting you.

TAGLIST

@supernatural-lvr @itzdarling @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @evansstan-akya

#hauntedwitch04's writing #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x plus size reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean x castiel #supernatural x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester imagine #becky's favorite #castiel x dean #castiel novak

[gorgeouslypink]

wassup pink

okay i combined like a billion different methods of yours for my success story so ill hop right into it

i tried the hypnosis video yesterday but i didn't get into it :( but instead of being a saddie, i knew i am a manifesting baddie and i used your revision meditation to basically revise that i did enter it and then i just spent the rest of the night feeling good. this morning i saw the alpha state meditation success story so i decided to do it again but instead of affirming for the void state, i affirmed that i will successfully complete the hypnosis which i knew that will happen since i entered it the day before 😉 and then i did yoga nidra to really calm down and did the hypnosis video again and i entered the void state at the end and then i basically clipped the audio of her snapping and playing sleep to enter the void without her calling me out every 5 seconds and i manifested financial wealth, like my family was so poor before and we all used hand me downs and things but now we are secure middle class and im happy to see my parents and sisters and brothers wearing good clothes and shoes and not having to work so hard and us having a new better home.

hii love!! first of all, you are sooo precious and i love how you manifested for your family and the joy you find in seeing them well clothed 🥺💗 im really proud of you for entering and congratulations, love!

[kiwisbell]

hi friends!

a couple updates: i just want to say i'm so sorry for not bringing ch. 3 of helen to you in a timely fashion; i promise i'm still working at it, but a nasty sickness and an approaching thesis deadline have been consuming all my energy at the expense of writing. the saddies sometimes take over, y'know. again, i'm really sorry, and i hope to catch up on writing/asks/reading/etc. very soon. thank you so much for being patient with me and please know i love you all very much 💕 forehead kisses aplenty!!

here is a tiny snippet from ch. 3 because i am trying my best:

#kiwi babbles #life is life-ing this week #my wips

[idolatrybarbie]

the world tipped on its side

chapter four - twin primes

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

rating & summary: explicit | twin primes—pairs of prime numbers that are close to each other, almost neighbors, but between them there is always an even number that prevents them from truly touching.

warnings: smut, bea pops their m/f sex cherry, feewings, angst out the ass, discussion of disability & physical injury, nerve-related body paralysis, (again, the briefest moment) suicidal ideation, references to dead parents, what can i say i am a saddie.

notes: went down to the residence snack lounge and got a mochaccino to finish this for sunday so don't ever say i don't love you. put michael my filmmaking teacher in here because he told me kiefer sutherland is an asshole. <3

Frankie touches you and your skin burns. The feeling is welcome, addictive as you chase it, roaming your hands along the thick muscle of his arms. The warmth of his skin is piercing, running down to the deep chill in your bones. It soothes an ache you hadn’t realized was there amongst all of the other pain.

When Frankie steps away from you for a moment, the sting returns tenfold. You think you need him to never stop touching you.

He’s staring at you, awe covering his face.

“I don’t get why you do that,” you admit, prodding at the tension in the room.

“Do what?” he asks.

“Stare,” you say.

“Why would I not wanna look at you?”

You have never really been looked at. Taught from a young age that attention was deadly, the spotlight has effectively remained off of you for most of your life. You’ve been poked and examined, sure. Not like this, with gnawing intensity.

When Frankie pays you mind, his focus feels different. Not pitying or prying—not in any way you don’t want him to anymore. He looks at you curiously, or with a glint you are starting to realize is something good. What it is exactly, you aren’t sure. Admiration? Or adoration?

You can’t think about it too hard right now.

Frankie’s hands are back on you, cupping the sides of your face gently as he kisses you again. The touch soothes; aloe to a sunburn, Promethazine to a stirring stomach. You don’t know when or how you became this person. You haven’t felt like a person in so long, simply felt like you, and that hasn’t been enough for a while now. So long that you’ve forgotten this feeling. It settles on your skin, under your muscles and at the corners of your eyes.

Guilt creeps in, too. A small part of you wishes it was anything else that brought about this feeling; not Frankie, not whatever this is about to be, but something else. A moment with Mia. A quiet piece of time by yourself.

You push the thought away as Frankie lifts the bottom hem of your shirt, palms skating over the skin of your stomach. This is as good a reason as any. You can’t let him love you. Surely that’s not what this is anyway. You’ve never been one to turn down a good lay though.

Frankie starts to take your shirt off carefully, waiting for you to lift your arms in response before he tugs the fabric off of you. You are left in your bra, burning up as he takes the button of your jeans between his fingers to undo them, mouth connecting to yours. Frankie’s lips begin to wander. He leaves open mouthed kisses, sloppy and sweet, on your cheek, across your jaw. When he finally gets your fly down, he’s mouthing softly at your neck.

You fumble to get the pants down your legs, sitting down at the very end of the bed. You watch him openly as he removes his own clothing. His arms are large, all the better to hold you with, with brown hair trailing from his chest down his softer middle. His underwear is green, but that’s all you can really make out in this light. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Those will be coming off soon.

He meets you at the bed, Frankie sitting down before he kisses you again. Honestly, you could do this all night. Making out half-naked in bed like a couple of nervy teenagers. But no, you want more. Dare you even say, you need it. Frankie all over, Frankie inside of you, the same way he’s grown alongside the dermis of your body.

“What do you want?” he asks gently.

You already know the answer. “Everything.”

Frankie smiles, snaking his arm around you to unclasp the clip of your bra. It falls into your lap. He softly moves you up the bed, your head resting at the pillows as the garment disappears beyond the span of the ugly comforter.

He takes a breast in his hand, gently massaging you before Frankie licks the pad of his thumb and rubs it over your nipple. It’s exciting, a small peak of cold sensation between the gooey ooze of kisses. Your panties are uncomfortably soaked, and you readjust your hips in a fruitless attempt to unstick them.

Frankie moves his hand from your chest down your torso, over your stomach. He holds you there, softly stroking your belly for a moment. This touch isn’t burning, but warm. Tender. He’s moving on too quick for you to truly savour it, sliding his left hand into your underwear.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Please, Frankie. Just touch me.”

He dips two fingers low, feeling just how wet you are. “Aw, honey. All of this for me?” he asks.

You can only nod, holding your breath as you wait. He moves back up to the front of you, searching a moment before he finds your clit. When he sets a casual pace of circling your clit, you close your eyes with a moan.

“That feel good?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck. Just like that,” you tell him.

Frankie kisses you again, breathing you in between kisses. You can’t focus. It’s not too much, but it’s been so long—since a man touched you like this, since anyone touched you like this. You thank whatever’s out there that your parts still work, an old tool left on the shelf too long now with a fresh set of batteries.

“Frankie,” you say. “Touch me.”

“If you insist.”

He’s dragging your panties down your legs, over your toes, and then dropping them to the floor. He kisses all the way down your body, starting with his mustache tickling at your forehead; nose, lips, neck, sternum. Frankie sits at the valley between your breasts for a while, alternating between them as he licks and sucks at your nipples. He uses teeth for a brief moment, making you cry out, arching to press further into his mouth.

You tug at his ear. “Get to it, Catfish,” you instruct him.

He’s smiling as he pulls away from your skin, a half smile painted on his face. “Yes ma’am,” he nods.

The kisses he leaves trail to your diaphragm, your belly, each side of your hips. He’s kissing at your thighs when you practically thrust your core at his face.

“You really are all business,” Frankie laughs to himself. Before you can form a retort, he licks at you, getting right to it.

A moan breaks off in your throat, morphing into a slight sigh. You hold your hands at your sides, fingers flexing as he gets a grip under your legs to keep you close to him. You fist at the sheets, pinching the soft skin of your thighs before he finally looks up at you. He takes one of your hands in his own, wordlessly leading it to the long brown hair atop his head.

His tongue slides against you deliciously, the low rumble of a moan coming from his chest. Experimentally, Frankie slides a finger into your dripping cunt. You moan again, high and breathy. He’s staring at where you swallow his index, moving at an even pace that has your hips canting upwards to his hand.

“You want more, hey honey?” he asks. Frankie misses your attempt at a nod, a second finger joining the first. You groan, pushing the side of your face into the pillow. “You look so pretty like this. There you go.” He’s moving his fingers a little faster, but it still isn’t enough.

“God, shut up and fuck me already,” you sigh.

Frankie moves up your body, still fingering you as he gets a grip on your thigh, pressing it to your chest with his free hand. His fingers push in a little deeper, reaching a spot you haven’t felt around for in ages. A few more strokes of his fingers, knuckle-deep now, and you start to grab at his biceps for leverage.

The orgasm hits you, the world’s slowest freight train. Languid but intense, he pulls it out of you with his hand brushing inside you over and over. You drag Frankie into a kiss, his lips on yours to keep you grounded when you feel yourself start to float away.

You are still fluttering around his fingers when he pulls them from you, touch placid against your skin. Frankie shucks off his briefs, his cock highlighted through the light of the window. He uses the wetness of your cunt to stroke himself for a second. Then he’s leaning over the side of the bed, searching for something. He comes up with his discarded jeans, and then his wallet, inside of which is a condom packet.

You laugh. “Of course.”

“I want you to know that this was already in here before I met you,” he says, tossing the wallet and his pants away again.

“You know how to make a girl feel special,” you say.

Frankie carefully tears the wrapper open, pulling the condom from the plastic so he can roll it over his cock. “Okay, how’s this: I put it in there before we got out of the car, but I didn’t want to assume anything.”

Humming, you nod as you reach out and give his covered dick a stroke. He leans forward involuntarily, almost losing balance. “That’s better.”

Frankie sighs through his nose, smiling down at you before he readjusts his legs against the mattress. He braces himself over your body, tapping the tip of himself at your clit. Tiny zaps of delicious electricity.

“You’re beautiful. It’s kind of scary,” Frankie whispers.

“I bet you say that to all the girls you’re three inches from fucking,” you say.

He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slow. You groan together. Frankie wraps the hand not holding himself up around the back of your shoulder so that you are loosely chest to chest.

He breathes out your name. “Fuck. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet.”

Now that you have him inside you, you never want him to leave. When Frankie moves, the strokes are slow and grinding. You can’t form the words you need, his cock fucking the syllables out of you with every thrust. Starting to scratch at your own skin, you change your mind to him, hooking your arms at the base of his neck to pull him ever closer as you dig your nails in.

Frankie laying down on you would probably be a bad idea, but god, you want him to. The feel of his heat all over, two becoming one in this shitty Floridian motel room is all you crave. You have him inside you but you need more. You flutter around him, ratcheting up to your second orgasm faster than you can articulate as he moves his hands to hold you at your sides.

You grip his wrist at the change of angle, Frankie’s thrusts more shallow as he speeds up the pace. He moves your hands together, holding your palm between his fingers before he entwines them. It’s a lot—almost too much, you almost pull your hand away, but he moves his left thumb to your clit. You close your eyes and forget about it, letting him overtake you completely.

He breathes into your mouth, tongue delving past your lips to taste you. You’re trying to kiss him back, get your head screwed on right for a moment to suck his bottom lip into your mouth, something. You can’t, a moaning mess beneath him as he fucks the thoughts from your head, the ache from your chest. You can understand why people become sex addicted. Something inside of you will always be seeking out this feeling, even after it’s long over.

Frankie watches your eyes roll in your head, spurring you on with his words. “Come on, honey. You look so sweet when you come. Shit—can you do it again for me?” he asks.

“Oh fuck, Frankie. Please,” you plead. You continue to beg between curses, holding him against you, moaning his name.

A small tear rolls down your cheek from the corner of your eye. He wipes it away with a finger, holding the side of your face. This, of all things, pushes you over the edge. You claw at him, like if you press him against your breasts hard enough he’ll somehow become apart of you.

Frankie moans into the crux between your neck and shoulder, slowing his thrusts as you ride out your second orgasm of the night. When you calm down a little, he gives you a few more thrusts, softer now. He pulls moans from you all the same, looking you in the eyes as he comes himself. He swipes his palm from your clavicle to the top of your pelvis soothingly before he pulls out.

Frankie disappears into the bathroom, lights still off with the door ajar. He must discard the condom, returning a minute later after he washes his hands. He lays next to you, shoulder to shoulder in bed. You can picture it, a camera floating above the two of you to scan over your faces. It’s the framing of a sitcom, multi-cam, canned laughter mixed in with the chuckles of a live studio audience.

Here comes that awkward, post-coital chat.

“So,” Frankie begins, “How was that?”

You shake your head. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that.” Then, “Five stars. You have a Yelp page I can visit?” you whisper, still catching your breath.

Frankie laughs and god, you love that sound. His breathing evens out as your own lungs catch up with the rest of your body. The two of you lay in silence.

He asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

You groan, turning onto your side—half to face him, and half to mash your face into the pillow beneath you. “Do we really have to continue with twenty-one questions after we’ve had sex?”

“The sex piece is just a further ploy to ask a question,” he says. “And we’re friends.”

You scoff a laugh, thinking out loud. “I really don’t know what we are.” Screwed, royally.

“Does anyone else know on set? Other than Mia.” He means the disability, the injury, the accident.

“I don’t know. I haven’t said anything, but people aren’t stupid. They either know it’s an issue or think I’m a pillhead,” you say. “Either way, what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, I just… Thank you. For sharing that with me,” Frankie says softly.

Oh. That isn’t what you were expecting from him. Questions in that lane are usually prying, not grateful. You disregard the pull at the organ in your chest, fingers digging into the skin of your thigh.

“My turn,” you say. “Why did you take the job?” Frankie’s playing dumb beside you, faux-confusion blanketing his features. “Come on.”

“You,” he relents. “I got out of my truck, recognized Mia—I didn’t really know who you were. All I knew was that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I wasn’t leaving without finding a way to keep you talking to me.

Your stomach rolls a little, the sheets more itchy and crowding than soft and warm against your skin. You try and ignore it to stay here with him, not ready to let this moment go. Your body isn’t giving you much of a choice. Exhaustion pulls at your eyelids, joining in on the internal battle you’re trying to win. Frankie’s admission should make butterflies tickle your insides—that’s what you want. Instead, you’re seasick, about to upchuck overboard.

“You should sleep,” he says. Clearly he has noticed your eyeballs lolling about in their sockets as you examine the smaller patches of skin along his chin. He’s right, you should. Still, you fight to keep your eyes open.

“I like you being here. It’s nice,” you say. Losing, your eyes close slowly. “It’s scary.”

If Frankie says anything else, you don’t hear it, drifting away. Your dreams are light and empty again. At some point the warmth of his body beside you disappears, the motel door open and closing softly. You stay asleep.

-

You shower and change into the extra set of clothes you brought along a few hours later. Frankie’s gone, but you aren’t surprised. It was just sex after all. You are adults. You are friends.

The drive back to Georgia feels both like a mad dash and a leisurely stroll, the trees flying by as the car hurtles over bridges and back roads at a cool seventy-five miles an hour. There are no cops to bother you at this time of the day—right after the graveyard shift, but before anybody cares enough to dole out a speeding ticket. The highway is dead.

Driving straight to set is the smartest option, foregoing a trip home to drop your things off. Rolling into the lot this morning feels different. Or maybe it’s you that’s different. The parking attendant lets you past regardless. Even if you don’t feel the same as the person on your studio badge, apparently you still look it.

You dive right into work at the six-thirty call time, assisting Ashton with the direction of this four-on-four fight scene. You give the actors a little nudge every now and again, alternative options when you realize the tone isn’t exactly working for what you need. At lunch you sit with Michael, listening as he smiles and tells you about how he got his wife out on the boat they just bought. He asks you what you got up to between bites of cobb salad.

“Not too much,” you say. “Got down to Florida for the night, saw some fireworks. Pretty casual.” Mike’s a cool guy, but you doubt he’d want to hear about the motel ending of your years-long dry spell.

Mid-way through the break, you meander over to your tiny office. Mia is sitting at your desk, watching the window absently as she finishes up a container of pasta salad.

“Hey,” you say, leaning in the doorway. Mirroring Frankie, his face flashes in your mind.

Mia spins in your chair to face you. “Sorry I didn’t get around to texting,” she says.

You shake your head. “Don’t even worry about it. How was the trip?”

“Beautiful as usual,” she says. You’re waiting for the anecdote about how you need to come up next summer. It doesn’t come, though, replaced with her question of, “What’d you get up to?”

You’re prepared to repeat your story from earlier, but wait. What happened to that whole not lying thing?

“Took a drive down to Florida,” you say.

“Oh?” There are more questions behind this single word reaction, you already know that. Mia, like Frankie, has her own little storage of secrets. You think you know all of them by now, but then again, wouldn’t she think the same thing of you?

“I took your advice. Bumped into Frankie, actually.”

“Bumped into,” Mia hums.

“Specifically went there to see him,” you correct. Trying to keep it casual, you shrug a single shoulder. “Wanted to see if he was as good as he thinks he is.”

The innuendo is not lost on you, tongue pressing hard against the roof of your mouth as you resist the natural quirk of your lips. The memory of his hands all over you burns gently—Vicks VapoRub at your chest, on your neck, smeared low across your belly. Tingling.

“And?” Mia asks.

“It was all pretty impressive.”

“If I didn’t know any better—”

“But you do,” you interrupt her. “We grabbed a bite and sat on the beach. That was pretty much it.”

Pretty much.

“Sounds like a good holiday,” she says.

Mia leaves it at that, telling you about how she and Sam went skinny dipping just past midnight before heading back to their room for the night. The drive back from Juliette is an easy hour. She was getting onto the road right about when you were pulling in this morning.

You tell her about the sun and the sand, how Frankie built a fire for the two of you to sit by. You leave out the details of how his skin and teeth feel, about how nice it was to be touched for the first time in a long time. You certainly don’t tell her about how you miss it, sitting here and now; how you wish it would happen again.

Lunch ends and you throw yourself back into work, making sure that Mikey lands his kicks where he’s supposed to and decidedly not cussing Ashton out when he calls for another take—the seventh of this scene so far. Part of you wants this day to end, so you can drive to a field thirty minutes outside of Atlanta tomorrow morning and see Frankie again.

You know it’s ridiculous to feel the need to have an excuse. You work together, he’s your friend, he’s been inside of you. But feel the need you do, so you’ll wait. Doesn’t mean you’ll be happy about it.

At home, you lay on the couch in content quiet. You’re looking at the row of DVDs collecting dust in the TV stand—lots of first seasons of shows that started off great and went down the shitter, or movies that friends have worked on. Amongst them is the random fourth season of a teenybopper superhero drama that Mia doesn’t know you own. Your eyes settle on the case before you get down onto the floor and pull it away from its neighbours.

Mia’s on the cover, a sapphire red wig glued to her head as CGI globs of lava blast from her palms. Her character is precariously placed amongst the creatively coloured cast; some guy with icicles for hair, and a levitating girl leashed at the waist with rope. You don’t know when every single movie and television poster turned into a Star Wars-esque collage, but you hate it.

Despite that, you rouse the DVD player under the flat screen with a click and wait for the tray to pop out. When it does, you pry open the DVD case and place the fifth disc inside—episodes sixteen to twenty-two. The player takes it in, whirring to life and producing a navigation menu on your TV’s screen before you can get up again.

You skip over the first three to watch the nineteenth episode. This is the whole reason you bought the set anyway. Ignoring the cheesy plot lines and dialogue too smart for its own good, you wait for the scene in the middle of the episode where Mia’s character jumps out of a plane to save the world (again).

She told you about the experience after it’d first happened; how she was expecting some sort of CGI monster, or a prop plane door hooked up to a crane. But this was none of that, as Mia arrived on set almost an hour away from the Warner Brothers’ lot with a real plane there waiting for her.

You had gone skydiving before, but this was an entirely different beast. She’d called it a leap of faith, something that made you giggle at the time. Now, as you take the remote and replay the scene over and over to catch a glimpse of the pilot inside the cockpit, you understand what she meant.

A leap of faith. Maybe you could do that.

-

The alarm wakes you, the first time it’s had the chance in a while. You’re tempted to let it blare and tire itself like you know it will in a few minutes, all to settle back into your dreams in the same wonderfully fuzzy position you’ve taken up in your sleep.

You think of your dream before it fizzles out of your memory. Up high in a plane, the clouds like grey fluff outside of the open cabin door. In your gear and prepared to dive, you glanced back at your pilot. There he sat, headphones over his ears as he spoke to you, words censored by your brain. Whatever it was was enough to get you to jump, though, smiling on the way down.

You were about to clear the clouds when the whiney piece of machinery at your side disturbed you. Whatever. There will be other dreams.

Trying to lift your hand turns out to be more of a task this morning than you’d anticipated. In fact, when you look at your arm and will yourself to move, you find that you can’t at all. Or your other arm, or either of your legs. Your neck is frozen, along with the rest of your body.

Panic starts to settle in your gut as you realize what this is. A new symptom, one you’d been warned about but never really considered becoming a reality. You could be stuck like this for hours or days. If you could just reach a little farther for your phone…

Miraculously, you regain the slightest bit of feeling in your pinky and ring finger, using them to turn it on and dial the number at the top of your contacts. Then you wait. Twenty scary, silent minutes pass before you hear the faint sound of your front door opening, Mia’s sneakers padding into your apartment.

She calls out for you, reaching your bedroom.

“Oh my god,” she gasps when she sees you, stuck with your chest to the mattress and the side of your face pressed into the pillow. A few stray tears have spilled out onto the fabric of it by now. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you grumble. Limp against her touch, you let Mia maneuver you around in bed ‘til you’re leaning against the headboard. You should be on the road now. Driving to work. This shouldn’t be happening.

Pulling at legs you can’t feel, she moves you down slightly before getting on the bed next to you. Mia massages your neck from beside you, specifically around and over the area of your cervical spine. Just like the doctor showed her how years ago now, in a hospital in another state off the coast.

The action tugs at your panic as it spreads throughout your upper body, throwing you hurtling backwards in time. In progress. But maybe this is the progress, just not in the way you wanted. Dr. Lopez said this could happen, with or without surgery, and now it’s here. The progress—more so degeneration than anything, of your body, your nerves—is letting itself be known. It owns you, it always will. How dare you forget that?

After a few minutes of Mia kneading at your back, sensation starts to return. Slowly but surely, you can wiggle your fingers and toes, rotate your wrists and ankles once again.

Mia asks how you’re feeling. Immediately, you burst into tears.

She’s cooing at you like one would a baby, moving her hands to either one of your shoulders in a side hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she keeps saying.

“No it’s not. Stop it. I wish—I don’t know why you say that.” You aren’t sure if she’s trying to convince you or herself.

“Because I have to believe it,” Mia answers.

“I don’t,” you say. “I mean, this is going to keep happening. More and more frequently, and then one day it might all just…stop.”

Mia shakes her head. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?” you ask. “Why are you scared of that? This my life now. That’s been my life for the past two years. Why can’t you accept that one day I won’t be able to do all of this?”

“Because if I accept that then you’ll never even consider anything else,” she says.

You move away from her, as much as you can with limited mobility, disgust framing your face. “You don’t know how hard it is to do this. Every day. I wake up and I go to work, and I’m there for you, and I love you. I’m worrying about this fucking movie and your wedding while my nerves degenerate into shit.”

“That’s not fair,” she says, getting up and off the bed. “You know that’s not fair. You hole up in this goddamn apartment and act like no one gives a shit about you, well I do. I do.” She prods her own finger into her chest. “But you’re never there, so what am I supposed to do?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You lock yourself up in this emotional prison and act like, what? Your disability is something you have to deal with alone? Like just because your life changed you can’t live it anymore?”

“Now that’s not fair,” you say. “You know that I—”

“I know that you lie to me. All of the time. And I never say anything because a part of me doesn’t want to believe it. You think I don’t notice, or that I’m stupid or something but—”

“I don’t think your stupid,” you say.

“—but I see it. I know you think you're doing what's best, but it hurts. It hurts to feel you pulling away. It hurts to watch you go through this alone. I want to help you but you won’t let me.”

“Because that means admitting something’s wrong!” you yell, the sound of your voice ripping through your bedroom.

It’s too early for this. Any of this. You hold your hands over your face, the urge to go home flooding you. You eat the fact that that place doesn’t exist anymore. The place where that ring in your car—his ring—used to hang heavy at your neck burns with shame. Home died with Dad. Right now, you wish you’d gone with him.

“Something is wrong!” Mia shouts at you now. “The accident happened, okay? Things are different now. And they’ll never be the same, but you don’t have to be the only one to live with that. You carry it like this is a burden for one. There are people who love you. I love you. Always have, always will, that was the deal. Right?”

You remember the pact you’d made, late at night right before the last week of your first year in college. Words said in unison, sealed into the bandwidth of the universe with a pair of pin pricks and blood-smeared fingers.

From this life to the next, love and trust, together forever. Always have, always will.

Schoolgirl bullshit pulled from high school fantasies and too many re-watches of The Craft. It was corny, but it was yours. Clearly Mia had held onto it. You can’t keep track of the many times you’ve broken the vow. It’s so hard to keep honest, feeling like an anchor. Living out your bad miracle alone seemed like the practical solution, but when has love ever been about practicality?

“You have a life, a career. You have things to do, I can’t—I won’t be what gets in the way for you,” you say.

“If any of those things don’t involve you, I don’t want them,” Mia says. “And you have those things too. A life, a career. I don’t know where you forgot that.”

“I can barely get on a kiddie fucking roller coaster at the county fair, or get out of bed. How am I supposed to do what we do?”

“We’ll figure it out, alright? We figure it out together. That’s what we always do.”

Mia’s at your side again, kneeling on the floor to hug you. You sob into her hair, letting the cries wrack your body. She smells like shampoo and love; ragged and fire-forged. Home.

That night, you call Frankie. You can’t help it.

He picks up after four rings with a quick, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you say back.

“I was wondering when you’d be calling.” His voice is gravelly and loose over the line.

“Did I wake you up?” It is almost eleven o’clock at night.

“Doesn’t matter,” Frankie says.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” you say.

“It’s fine. Work. I get it.”

“Hm,” you murmur absently. “Just thought I would call, thank you again for—”

“Don’t thank me for the sex,” he interrupts.

“For the ride, asshole.” There’s a quiet laugh over the phone. “I appreciate you driving me back to the motel. And inviting me out.”

“You sort of invited yourself,” Frankie tells you.

“After you dropped the breadcrumb for me with my best friend,” you say.

Silence, like he’s thinking about it. “Agree to disagree,” is what he finally settles on.

You roll your eyes. “Sure, okay. Agree to disagree.”

Waiting on the line, all you can hear is his breathing. You wish he was here. You wish he was breathing beside you in your bed.

“Was there anything else?” he asks.

“Uh, no. Sorry. I guess I should let you go,” you say. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Frankie.”

tags: @wannab-urs / @anoverwhelmingdin / @iamskyereads <3

#pedrostories #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #fic: the world tipped on its side

[ineffablydelighted]

[Cute Omens #6.1]

The Supreme Archangel Aziraphale returns to Earth for the first time in five years to meet Beelzebub's replacement, the new Duke of Hell, aka... [Yep. I'm definitely not the first who explored this option, you just know where I'm getting at, don't you? 😎]

Aziraphale: *enters the Resurrectionist, a little worried* *does not show it, of course, he's supposed to emanate respect and authority* *has become quite good at it, actually* *salutes the pub owner* Hello, sir. I believe a seat has been reserved in the name of... Heavell, I believe. *understands the pun JUST NOW* *closes his eyes in pissed off by that new Duke of Hell already*

Pub owner: *uneasy* *rapid movements* Oh, hum... yes, yes, Heavell, of course, the person asked for the private area... one year ago? Or was it two? I am not sure, excuse me. Please follow me, Sir.

Aziraphale: *follows him in brand new clothes he learned to like and rearranges them* The... private area? *remembers the last time he came here* *feels something rather painful in his chest but chooses, as always, to ignore it* You have one, now?

Pub owner: Yes. It's been... three years or so? I no longer live upstairs since I reconnected with my dear wife Saddie so I thought it would be nice to... *has no idea why he gives so many unnecessary details* *stops* *clears his throat* Anyway, yes, I do have one! Mind the stairs, Sir, they are pretty narrow.

Aziraphale: *nods agreeably* *walks up the spiral stairs after him* And, have you... ever... met Mister... Heavell, before?

Pub Owner: Not that I know of, Sir. Have you not either?

Aziraphale: *calmly* *in theory* Not that I know of.

Pub Owner: Here we are... *opens a wooden door revealing a pretty cozy room with forest green sofas* Please be seated, you're in advance, I believe.

Aziraphale: Yes, I am. Thank you, Sir.

Pub Owner: Would you like a drink while you wait for your... contact?

Aziraphale: No, thank you, I will wait until they have arrived to make an order.

Pub Owner: Sure. *closes the door* *leaves*

Aziraphale: *sighs* Heavell, for Heaven's sake...

[Twenty-or-so minutes later]

Aziraphale: *looks at his pocket watch, again* *frowns* Of course, the Duke of Hell has to be late... Have they no decency?

Crowley: *pops on the sofa in a weird position because Crowley* *does not have his glasses on* *speaks casually* That's kind of the point of demons, Angel, don't you think?

Aziraphale: *startles* Ah! *recognizes Crowley* *eyes wide open* *strange movement at the corner of his lips that vanishes as quickly as it appeared* Oh. *severe final face* *sighs* Sir... Heavell, I presume?

Crowley: *grins* You sound as if you understood the joke only thirty minutes ago.

Aziraphale: *will never admit Crowley is totally in the right* *cold* No, I sound as if of course, I should have known it was you, of all demons, who came up with something as... lame.

Crowley: *presses his chest and opens his mouth, falsely offended* *sneers* Says the one who thought calling himself Mister Fell while being an Angel was funny. *theatrical arm movements* Come on!

Aziraphale: *wants to end the small talk asap* Can we, please, not dwell in the past? I'm not here for that, Mister-Heavell-Duke-of-Hell. I'm here to represent Heaven as we negotiate the terms of the upcoming War or Wars following Heaven's Second Coming.

Crowley: *half-amused half-annoyed by his attitude* *obviously chooses to be provocative* Wow, look at that, who's got already so full of himself with that new twinkly title of his?

Aziraphale: *eye-rolls with the subtlety of a 3yo* *colder than before* *also weirdly detached* Looks like you acquired quite the twinkly title as well.

Crowley: Yeahhhh... I still have no idea why they gave me this position, I haven't done anything to deserve i- *snaps his fingers* Oh, wait, that reminds me of someone... *runs his finger over his chin* Who can that possibly be, um... *tilts his head at Aziraphale* Oh! Found him. *waves sarcastically* Hell-o!

Aziraphale: *annoyed* So that is how low we've fallen, Crowley? Are you really going to spend the night mocking me?

Crowley: *looks at his nails* Well, you called me lame first, so...

Aziraphale: Could you stop acting like a child for two seconds and talk to me?

Crowley: I AM! *gradually gets up on the sofa* And that is already MORE THAN YOU DESERVE, YOU F- *points at him* You... *makes the most unsincere reverence* SuPrEmE ARSE-AnGeL...

Aziraphale: *hits the table with the palm of a hand* You're the Duke of Hell, for Heaven's sake, sit the fuck down and act like it!

Crowley: *more theatrical arm and leg movements* Oh, oh, of course, happy to oblige, my Lord... *walks until he is very close to Aziraphale* *does not sit back down though*

Both: *weird low-angle look*

Aziraphale: *closes his eyes for a little while* *sighs* *looks back at Crowley* Now, if you please could let me know when your tantrum has finished, your Dukeship, that would be lovely.

Crowley: *severe look* *suddenly grins* Actually? I'm not here to talk. I've never been here to do that.

Aziraphale: *raises one eyebrow* Huh?

Crowley: *abruptly jumps on Aziraphale with a human-sized sack and traps him inside* *dry voice* I'M HERE TO ANGELNAP THE CURRENT SUPREME ARCHANGEL, SILLY BOI!

Aziraphale: *has not the time to pop himself out of this situation that Crowley already popped both of them in Hell*

To be continued...

[Yep, I'm uncool like that. Nope, I do not regret a thing.]

***

Navigation time!

[While needing you to consider that, most of the time, the scenes are randomized and do not necessarily follow one another at all - OBVIOUSLY THOUGH 6.2 WILL FOLLOW 6.1 EVENTS I'M NOT THAT DEMONICAL OKAY?!]

Previous -Beginning - Next

#Cute Omens #Good Omens #Ineffable Husbands #Aziracrow #Good Omens fanfiction #Aziraphale #Crowley #Cute can also mean bantering now #Well “bantering”... more like scoffing #Mister Heavell and Mister Fell kinda sounds appealing to me somehow #How could Aziraphale not have guessed who it was FFS #Angelnapping is Crowley's new favorite hobby now #Supreme Achangel Aziraphale #or is it Supreme Assangel? #Duke of Hell Crowley #Never said I was a super original writer 2.0

[3-aem]

Today i was lyfting with my manager to a work event and the driver super inappropriately asked if it was a saddie hawkins thing and i, not knowing wtf that meant but assuming it was another event at the location, and habitually not wanting to engage in conversation, just said yep!

Turns out that's when a girl arranges the date or smth. My manager had to be like umm no it's actually a work event so yea basically am going to phase out of existence now!

#!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #soul left my body #you could physically feel it!!!!!!!!!!!! #a disturbance happened!!!!!!!!

[iamasaddie]

Hey babe :)

So for your celebration, i would looooove to read some somnophilia. I'm sure you'd write something fucking hot.

Have a beautiful afternoon 😘

Hello, my darling!! Thank you so much for this! Somno is something I've never written before, so it was definitely a challenge for me! I hope you like the finished product, ILY !

sweet dreams are made of this

paring: Joel Miller x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 1,2k~ warnings: ER; somnophilia; explicit sexual content; male masturbation; thigh fucking; dirty talk; no use of y/n. let me know if I missed anything a/n: a very special and intimate thank you to @johnwatsn for being an incredible person and beta-ing this work <3 dedicated to @milla-frenchy MY MAIN MASTERLIST 1k celebration masterlist

He didn’t know what was so alluring about seeing you sleep. Naturally, he understood that a normal person would either ignore their sleeping partner, or find it adorable and move on. They wouldn’t feel the scorching blast of arousal shooting through their system, making their skin impossibly tight, prickling with needles of need.

Joel tried to find a reasonable explanation for his dick getting hard whenever he saw your lips parted, small puffs of breath leaving your mouth as sleep claimed your body with its tight grip. Was it the excitement of finally seeing you so relaxed and unbothered after the distraught you've been living through for so long? The mellow curves of your body that looked even softer now that you weren't tensed with consciousness? Whatever it was, it slowly drove him insane. Insatiable.

He gave in one night, climbing out of your shared bed and sitting himself on a chair beside it so as to not wake you up. Not only was he embarrassed with the lengths his need led him to, but it would also ruin the whole reason because of which he was doing it. Dropping his boxers to his knees, he choked his cock with terrifying vigor, trying to find that needed release while also not taking his eyes off your sleeping form. Your hair splayed on the pillow - what a luxury in the world that had ended more than two decades ago - like a halo, naked body barely covered by a sheet, in attempts to get some comfort during the nights filled with heat and humidity. Joel jerked his cock a handful of times before spilling his seed all over his pouchy stomach, biting his lip to suffocate the guttural sounds that accompanied his orgasm. He did that once, then again a week later, and again the next day until it became a nightly occurrence and he even forgot to think about the depravity of it all.

Tonight, as he sat in his usual spot, long-forgotten shame even less visible in the darkness of the room, something was different. For the first time, your sleeping body wasn't facing him; you had turned away the moment you crawled into the bed. Joel hated when you fought, but the safety and the constant close proximity sometimes triggered something in him, it also triggered something in you. A small slip in wording would end up in your fists flying and his chest getting the hits. You'd both scream words you didn't mean and it'd tear his heart into pieces. Sometimes you and him both would wonder if you should've gone your separate ways once you’d settled in Jackson, but the moment he'd brush your hair out of your face in a quiet apology, you always accepted. Or when you'd come to him from behind, kissing his shoulder blade through his flannel, you both knew that apart you'd suffer more than together. You hadn't had a fight for a while, so tonight it was a big one, you even smashed his only cup centimeters away from his head before storming into your bedroom. He quietly followed you after finishing off what was left of the bottle of whiskey and laid on the farthest end of your shared bed in a crappy mood. But when he woke up in the middle of the night to open a window and let in some air, his cock informed him about his usual needs.

That's why now he was rubbing his cock raw with his fist, but the long-awaited release was both on the precipice, and also as far away as the happy past. 

"Fuck," he quietly muttered. At this point it was painful. The saliva he used already dried off and he was nowhere close to coming. But there was no way he'd be able to fall asleep like that.

Still, Joel climbed back to bed naked, leaving his boxers on the floor. As he lay down, his stiff, burning cock hit his soft stomach, smearing the precum on the skin. Against his better judgment, he creeped closer to you, spooning your pliant body from behind and inhaling your gentle smell. Sometimes it was the only thing that could bring him comfort, just the way you smelled, so warm and homey. So safe. You let out a barely audible sleepy groan and he was ready to apologize, but then you pushed your ass back, unconsciously grinding your plush behind on his naked and needy cock. 

"Oh, baby, fucking hell," his moan could wake you up. It should've woken you up, but it didn't. Joel's hands became braver, moving from your shoulder and underneath your t-shirt – his t-shirt – to cup your sex. "You're drenched already, my love." He chuckled lovingly, pressing his lips into your neck and eliciting soft breathy sounds from you. "You better be dreaming of my cock."

His thick fingers circled the wet patch on your panties, dragging your slick up and down your lips. Moved by only his need of you and release, he pressed your body closer still, moving a little and slipping his cock between the plush of your closed thighs. The tightness of their embrace could not compare to the choking grip of his hand, but it was so, so much more preferable. Losing himself in your body was close to a religious experience, he still marveled at how he got this fucking lucky. Maybe he deserved it, maybe he did something right. 

Your skin slicked by his precum gave the perfect pressure and friction for him to start losing his mind. The sweat covered his temples as he tried not to make unnecessary movements and wake you up. His chest was almost flush with your back, a steady pumping of his hips the only motion he allowed himself.

"Fuck, baby, every part of you can get me off." He knew you couldn't hear him, but he cradled a hope that maybe his voice would appear in your dream. Joel knew how much you liked it when he growled filth in your ear. "Wish I could slide into your tight pussy, but I don't want to wake you up." He continued his shallow thrusts, feeling closer and closer to the edge. His heavy balls were drawn up tight, ready to burst. "Maybe next time, when you're not mad and don't sleep in your panties I will just stuff your pussy full of my cock. Bet a pretty cock worshiper like you would love to wake up with me buried deep inside her cunt."

Imagining himself sliding inside your warm wet pussy while you were still asleep was his undoing. His cock started pulsing, spurting one, two, three thick long ropes between your thighs, almost feeling them now sticking to your skin. Fuck, how he was supposed to explain that? 

"Fu- fuck fuck fuck fuuuuck"

He licked his top lip, sweat beading in his cupid's bow, and kissed his lover's neck. Joel's breathing was labored, his heart practically breaking his ribcage with the intensity of its beating that he tried to calm down.

"You know, you could've just said you were sorry." Your voice was sleepy, barely louder than a whisper, but it deafened Joel's unsuspecting ears.

"Baby, I…–"

You turned around, tugging his hands around you in a tight embrace, and kissed him sloppily on his lips. "I'm glad you came, but now it's my turn. You got another one in ya, cowboy?"

"Fuck yes."

_________________

leave a comment if you liked that, ily

#i am not a saddie #1k celebration #iamasaddie fic #Joel Miller x f!reader #joel miller smut

[just-like-that-butmakeitgay]

Url Song Name

So the rules of the game are to write one song for every letter in your url, and then tag as many people as there are letters in your url. okay? okay.

Thank for the tag @siriuslythatbitch I love youuuuu

J- Joker by Dax

U- Under Pressure by Queen, David Bowie

S- Saddy Daddy-O by Artimus Wolz

T- TGIF by K. Flay, Tom Morello

L- Love Bites (So Do I) by Halestorm

I- I'll Make a Man Out of You by Peyton Parrish

K- Know No by CHINCHILLA

E- Everybody's Fool by Evanescence

T- Triggered by SkyDxddy

H- Happy Little Pill by Troye Sivan

A- AVA by Natalie Jane

T- Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton

B- Broken World by Ryan Bronson

U- Unholy by Halocene

T- Thing of Beauty by Danger Twins

M- My Heart Will Go On by Corvyx

A- Adore You by Harry Styles

K- Kryptonite (Reloaded) by Jeris Johnson

E- Eve by Precious Pepala

I- I See Red by Everybody Loves an Outlaw

T- The Sound of Silence by Disturbed

G- Going To Hell by The Pretty Reckless

A- All Alone by SkyDxddy

Y- Your Song by Elton John

I am not tagging 24 people haha so I'll just tag a few that I'm curious about their answers. No pressure tags: @fiendishfyre , @bisexualwvtson , @hepalien , @coffeedrgn87

#tag game #url song game

[heathenpoetry]

Never get tired of people being like "I personally don't like this thing which I am not even being asked to do, but I will make sure no one is ever allowed to do it !!" Yes this is about kink shaming and honestly it's so weird when people sit on here and act open minded for spouting the most fucked up fundamentalist puritanical catholic guilt-trippy terfy shit because people get horny sometimes and it makes them saddies.

all i got from this is that you dont like people thinking you're a creepy pervert because you are a creepy pervert

there are reasons why people have the ""kinks"" they do. you don't just happen to like beating women or being choked for no reason. you didn't think this was normal sexual behavior at every stage. at some point it became normalized and arousing to you. you should figure out when and why.

sexual violence isn't normal. it is abnormal, and evil. consensual sexual violence is still sexual violence. you dont have a "harmless kink", there is something unwell about your sexual development and health for you to desire to enact violence upon someone in order to be gratified or for someone to enact violence upon you because you find it to be arousing

i find it telling always that sexual degeneracy is somehow okay to you people because of some anti-christian or anti-religious stance. im not a christian and i would honestly be cool with a bog death for anyone who is so cumbrained that it makes them want to do shit like this shamelessly, knowing they hurt their own partner just to be gratified. you sound so arrogant i am honestly embarrassed for you and whoever stoops to allow you access to their body. im still cringeing over saddies like you are painfully obviously male lol

#txt #ask

[blackbutterfly0309]

So all I want to say I think my idea was to put alarm and try phase method was a very bad idea for me . Cause I wakeup at 1 and now it's 4:24 am and still I'm not able to fall sleep .

This proved that fact that I should try void at day not night cause I end up sleeping at night.

My earpods are going to come today so now I will be free from my poor wiredones .

It's fine guys we will enter at day cause I know I always enter now the affirming part is remaining.

I ain't planning on giving up . I love myself more than this shitty family so I won't let them control me and live my life peacefully. 💯

Let's attempt it at day !!!! If you fall asleep at night.

It's not like void only comes at night poor assumption. We are baddies not saddies .

FAITH MOVES MOUNTAINS!!!

I heard this somewhere so pls 🙏 don't give you're attempting void .

[hauntedwitch04]

can you please do a plus size reader insecure with dean winchester?

Perfect

Dean Winchester x plus size!Reader 

Words: about 2.1k words 

Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy times since we are talking about Dean so they are obviously there.

Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea and I hope you like how it came out!

p.s. I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. Ever since I was a little girl, I was never a very skinny kid, and on more than one occasion I was teased by my classmates when I was in middle school, so I let myself go and put a little bit of me in the one-shot.

Always remember that it is normal to have good days and bad days, but the important thing is not to let the bad days have it. Keep fighting until the end, because losing a battle does not matter, what is important is to win the war. Everyone is perfect and beautiful in their own way, and your body does not define the person you are.

In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.

Requests are open I Ask

My masterlist

Join the Taglist

Buy me a coffee - Patreon submission

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

You look at that slice of cake for the umpteenth time, and you can't help but hear that voice in your head again, evil, whispering all your lifelong insecurities.

Dean has been talking to a girl at the counter for a few minutes, and you can't help but notice how thin she is compared to you, how beautiful she is by the standards society imposes today, standards you have never respected.

You were never a very skinny girl, in fact from a very young age you had your curves, but that never appeared to be a problem until that obnoxious part of your life where children grow up and become teenagers, and that makes them bad there.

For the first time you realized at the age of eleven that your physique was different from the other girls near you, and for the first time you felt different, and that feeling you know deep down never went away.

You tried a thousand diets, and just as many exercises to lose weight, but it almost seemed as if your body didn't want to, so you learned to live with your body. In the beginning it was not easy, you had to face many battles, some you won and some you lost, but somehow your bitter enemy, the figure that is reflected in the mirror every morning, watching you live, judging all the actions you do, is always with you and you cannot get rid of it.

When you first met Dean you were sure that he would not give you a second glance, and that in the event nothing more than a simple friendship would arise as much as you were attracted to the attractive hunter, but against all expectations, only after a few months of knowing you he asked you out and confessed that he was madly in love with you, and that he could no longer live a second of his life. It had been such a strange moment: he was going on and on about all the romantic movies, books, and TV series he had seen himself during that time to find the perfect way to tell you everything he felt and that he finally did it in the bathroom of a movie theater after you had been attacked by a demon while watching a movie; on the contrary, you had remained silent the whole time, wondering how such a handsome, kind, funny, caring, and any other positive adjective in the human vocabulary, man could feel anything for you.

You had realized you were stuck, when waking up from that transe state you had seen him looking at you frightened, and you couldn't help but ask him, with tears in your eyes, "Why me, you could have anyone you want? Why should you only want me, you deserve better." You say sobbing, trying to hold back the tears, not wanting to show him the inner struggle you were fighting all the time with the same voice that is bringing you down today. He had taken your chin in one of his strong hands, made you lift your face and looked straight into your eyes. In those big green eyes you felt as if you could see a meadow in which you could run free of all thought, free to be whoever you wanted to be, and that is what Dean is to you after all, a safe haven in which to seek comfort.

"I want you, and you alone. And already that is a selfish thought, because love, if anyone does not deserve the other it is me, because you are perfect and I am everything but perfect, and I know you deserve so much better, and yet I am selfish and I cannot help but love you and want you to be mine and only mine." Said the man in front of you before kissing you. Immediately you melted like ice cream in the sun in his arms, and you returned the kiss with all the passion and eagerness you were willing to let him know that his feelings were reciprocated. His warm, fleshy lips on yours moved to the rhythm of a dance that only you seemed to know. After a few minutes we parted, needing to breathe again, but both of you had two silly smiles on your faces, of two people stupidly in love with each other, unable to hide it from the world for a second longer. "I have Jane Austen and her Mr. Darcy to thank next time I see her in heaven. Or was it in hell?" Whispered Dean chucklingly before resting his forehead on yours.

"Winchester, we would have a demon to exorcise in the other room." You reminded him, laughing at his earlier statement, before punching him lightly in the chest. "And don't ever make fun of Jane Austen again, I love her books and I won't let you do that." You continued, pretending to give him a dirty look.

"Why do you think I read them?" He replied, winking at you before leaving the room to go deal with the demon, whom you had almost forgotten about.

A voice suddenly brings you back to reality. You look up from the pie in front of you and see Sam's worried eyes trying to decipher your thoughts, which, like a hurricane, are flowing fast in your eyes, too fast to be understood.

"Hey, are you okay?" The smallest Winchester asks you, with a tugged smile, as if you had forgotten how to smile and he wanted to help you learn it again. You then try to smile back at him and nod, not having the heart to tell him that today the battle in the mirror between you and your reflection was won by the mirror, and that as of this morning you feel like crap emotionally, because you feel like crap about your own body.

"I'm just tired, and I'm not very hungry. I think I'll give it to Dean, after all, he's always happy to have a little extra cake." You say trying to be convincing. In fact, it's been about five days since you've really been able to put anything under your teeth, after seeing a girl flirting with Dean in a bar in the town of your last case. Dean had immediately declined the girl's attentions, saying that he was committed to you and loved you, but a self-defense mechanism had sort of been triggered in your brain, telling you that if you didn't want to lose the only person you'd ever really loved in the world, you had to lose weight, and so you started not eating, obviously in secret from Dean.

The lack of food in your stomach has also brought you immense fatigue, in fact you don't even realize that you have left the diner and are now in the car from how foggy your brain is. As soon as you sit in Baby's seat, sleep takes over your body, so much so that you don't even feel Dean pick you up and carry you inside to your motel room. You awaken hours later on the bed you and Dean have been sharing since you arrived in this town, but neither he nor Sam can be seen.

Slowly you get up and drag yourself into the bathroom. You turn on the light and immediately a figure is revealed to you in the mirror. You don't even look like yourself anymore, your skin is white and emaciated, so much so that it looks like that of a ghost; the black circles under your eyes are more pronounced than usual, and an immense sadness shines through your eyes, yet you can't help but be happy to see that your face looks slightly slimmer than it did a couple of days ago. Bitter tears run down your face knowing that being happy about that thing is not right, and that what you are doing is not good for your health, yet you cannot stop that little voice in your head from speaking.

Suddenly you hear the bathroom door open and see before you the frightened and confused face of your boyfriend, who looks at you shocked, seeing the tears on your face. Quickly he approaches you, asking if you are hurt and taking your face in his hands. You try hard to pull away from him, but you are not strong enough. You don't want him to feel your impefect body, he doesn't deserve it, yet he continues to hold you in his arms, while a hand gently strokes your back, trying to calm you down.

"Love, what's going on? Why are you crying? What can I do to help you?" Dean whispers to you, in turn with tears ready to run down his cheeks not knowing how he can take away the pain you are feeling so intensely.

"I'm sorry Dean, I'm really sorry. I've tried, but I can't." You sob, against his shoulder, stopping fighting him and letting yourself go into his embrace.

"What did you try to do love?" The elder Winchester asks with a veil of fear.

"I tried to be a better girlfriend, I tried to lose weight, but I can't. The voice is right, I don't deserve you, I never deserved you. I don't know how you can really love someone like me." You continue crying, falling to your knees, accompanied by his strong arms, as he follows you, also kneeling on the floor. Your figures seem to merge in this embrace, as you tell him of all your insecurities, of the evil voice that dwells within you and hinders your every hope for happiness, and how these days you have preferred to starve yourself in order to be a girl worthy of being seen at Dean Winchester's side. He listens to you in silence, as tears furrow his face and fall silently on your hair, since he has his chin resting on top of your head, while you hide your face in his chest seeking the comfort of his heartbeat and his scent as you open your soul to him on the motel floor of a godforsaken town.

When you're done, you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your heart lighten, and uncertainly you look into Dean's eyes and see his sadness, and immediately feel guilty knowing that you are the cause of that feeling. In a moment as if he is reading your mind, however, he immediately stops you and reassures you.

"Love, first of all, the next time you hear this voice or these feelings inside you, don't hesitate and come to me right away, because I love you and I don't want to see you suffer like this and you know that I am always there for you, no matter what, even if you just have to ask me why the color blue is blue at three o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, I am always there for you, I am your love slave." Says the hunter, kissing the last tears streaming down my face. "And secondly, you don't have to change in any possible universe, because you in each of them are perfect as you are. There is not one thing about you that I don't love madly: your hair, your eyes, your intelligence, your laugh, your body-oh God don't get me started on how your body drives me crazy, because believe me I could start a new religion just to worship you as the goddess you are. Every day I have to hold myself back from kissing every inch of your body, from screaming to the world that you are mine, that the best woman in the world is in love with me, and I still don't understand how that is possible. There is not one thing you do that is not perfect in my eyes, and even now I still think that never on earth and in heaven has there been a more perfect being than you, so please don't ever again believe what your brain tells you and believe me." He continues, as he looks into your eyes. You have never felt so loved in your life. The only thing you want to do is thank him, but no words come out of your mouth, so you kiss him, showing him how you feel about him. Slowly Dean gets up, taking you in his arms, not breaking the kiss. Only when you reach the front of the bed and he drops you on it, your lips part and he says a few words.

"I would say it's time to prove that I wasn't joking when I said I would found a religion just to worship your body."

And boy was he not joking.

#hauntedwitch04's writing #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester fanfiction #deanwinchesterxreader #supernatural x reader #plus sized!reader #plus size!reader

[beefrobeefcal]

BEEFRO! Beefro, Beefro, Beefro…

How can you ask what fic of yours is my favorite when all of them are so delicious?

I have to admit, though, “On the Waterfront” has its thick juicy thighs squeezing my head like a watermelon and I’m just grateful. I’m obsessed with this story, and just so you know I’m almost never obsessed with the story with a smaller amount of smut (horny bitch over here, sorry). But your idea and the way you characterized everyone just makes me WEEP. It is so so good, I can’t wait for more.

Surprisingly, the second place in my heart is owned by Dieter & His Cookie. I hope we’ll see more of them 🫠🥵

Thank you for your talent ❤️🥜

I be shook, Saddie!

I am legit shooketh by this.... high praise coming from you!

This is not what I thought I would find in my inbox after reblogging that post, but oh my! I pray I never fail you, or any of the Friendos for that matter, and you keep finding something to come back for.

T H A N K Y O U 😭💜🥩

And-so-today-my-world-it-smiles regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #beefro is blessed #beefro is thankful #🥩 #you asked beefro answered #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #friendos of beefro