#so he made us all sit down and discuss about what happened and how we felt about the issue

[strawberrysturniolo]

need a sub chris asap. giving you creative freedom but major sub/mommy vibes

wet dreams //sub!chris

summary: you decide to please your boyfriend when you see him experiencing a sex dream. sub!chris. mommy kink. male!receiving. use of vibrator on male.

Sleepovers at my boyfriend's house are nightly at this point. I practically live with him. I have a toothbrush here, a caddy in the shower filled with my necessities, a drawer of extra clothes, a few pairs of shoes, an extra charger. There’s even some decor that is mine. 

People are often surprised to find that me and Chris don’t technically live together. I just spend so much time with him, and he insists that he sleeps better with someone else in his bed. I have been told by his brothers that he’s tired of him trying to cuddle them while he sleeps. I’m here to fill that void. 

I woke up earlier than him today. That’s never surprising. I may not be a true early bird, but compared to Chris, I’m up at the crack of dawn. 

I put on some clean clothes, walking around the bedroom and watching him stir in his sleep. His mouth started out parted slightly, but every so often, a soft gasp left his lips and forced them open more. When his mouth wasn’t open, his lips were pressed together. 

I found myself watching him as he made subtle sounds. As time went on, he turned to his stomach, and my stomach dropped, knowing what was happening. 

His soft moans turned into low grunts as he started pressing his crotch into the mattress, his hips shifting ever so slightly. His toned back flexed as he moved, his briefs tight around his ass, and I only imagined the sight of his dick begging to be freed from the fabric. 

I swallowed harshly as I watched him, standing in shock. I knew he had sex dreams. He had told me about them before. He had them frequently. Maybe it was a guy thing, or maybe he was just horny all the time. I just had never seen it happen before my eyes. 

I made small, careful steps to the bed, making sure not to wake him. I want to see how far this will go. 

A sharp gasp left his throat, making me freeze. 

“Fuck,” he muttered before turning his head to the other side. His hand clutched a pillow, gripping it tightly. I was dying to know what he was dreaming of. What we were doing. How we were touching each other. 

I was struggling to keep myself together as I watched. I lowered myself to the bed, sitting down softly and moving next to him, watching him up close. 

His forehead had a small bead of sweat dripping from his skin. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut as his desperate sounds of pleasure seeped out of him. 

It went on for a few minutes before he turned onto his back. He was still asleep, but his dick was throbbing inside of his underwear. I could see it twitch as his dream went on. A wet spot lingered on the gray fabric, growing by the second. 

An element of our sex life that had been discussed was the idea of consensual non-consent – an idea of us being more than okay with the other person waking us up with a sexual act. I had always been hesitant about the idea. I didn’t want to wake him up and have him complain about being too tired throughout the day just so we could have sex. 

But this was different. He was obviously desperate. He was practically fucking the mattress begging for a release. I had to help him. He would want me to. 

I carefully traced my fingers on his left thigh, feeling the soft hair that decorated his tan skin. He twitched a little more in his sleep, and his sounds of approval were enough to encourage me to go all the way. 

I placed my hand over his bulge, the wetness seeping through finding my palm. My heart is racing as I wait for him to wake up. He lets out a gasp at my touch, bucking his hips harshly. 

He’s still asleep.

A few minutes passed. My hand continued to stroke his dick as his moans grew. I expected him to wake up at this point, but everything I am doing is probably just pushing into his dream. He has no reason to wake up because he is getting everything he needs while he sleeps. 

A loud moan leaves his mouth, making my eyes shoot open. I carefully peel down the waistband of his underwear, watching as his tip leaks. I spread some of the pre-cum around his tip with my thumb before licking over his slit. 

“Please, baby,” he whines. “Please.”

I take him in my mouth, my tongue swirling around his length. As his moans grow, I shake him by his shoulder while I suck him off, waking him up so he can bask in what’s real rather than his dream. 

His eyes open softly. He looks groggy and confused momentarily before he realizes that this pleasure is real. His head falls backwards and he lifts a hand to my hair, pushing my head down on him. 

“Fuck baby,” he groans. 

“What were you dreaming about?” I ask, pulling off of him and stroking him instead.

He shakes his head. “Don’t stop.”

I grip his balls, making him gasp. “Tell me.”

“You were bouncing on my dick,” he breathes out. “You held a vibrator to your clit. You were writhing on me, clenching like crazy. But every so often the vibrator would hit my tip. It was so much.”

I’ve never used a vibrator on him, but now I’m more tempted than ever.

“You want me to use a vibrator on you?” I ask.

His eyes widen. He nods frantically.

I spit on his tip. “Are you gonna speak or act pathetic for me and struggle to get words out?”

“I’m gonna talk,” he promises. “Please. I wanna try it.”

I nod, sucking his tip a little bit more before I lean over to my nightstand and grab my bullet vibrator. My theory is that starting small would be a better option for him before we use one that is bigger and could work on his entire dick. I want him to feel comfortable with this first. 

His dick is twitching relentlessly as he waits for my touch again. I love seeing him like this. He’s always dominant during sex. I never get to see the submissive side of him. It makes me feel powerful, and I crave control of him in this area of our lives. 

I turn on the vibrator, letting him hear the sound of the buzzing so he can decide if he wants to continue. His stomach heaves. 

“Please,” he whines. “I need you to touch me.” 

“Yeah?” I tease. I lick a stripe up his cock again. “How bad do you need me to touch you?”

“So bad.”

I lean my body over him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his mouth. “You gonna be a good boy for me?”

Something in his eyes changes.

“I’ll be so good for you, mommy.”

Oh hell.

I slide back down to his dick, jerking him slowly with one hand before I trace the vibrator around his tip. His hips buck hard before I press them back down to the bed. 

“Don’t you dare,” I warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he cries out. “Ohhhh fuck. Please. It’s so good. Oh my god.”

The sounds he’s making are unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him. He’s whining, whimpering, panting, begging for me. It’s taking everything in me to continue to tease him, wanting to edge him from his high.

“I can’t- Fuck. I need to cum,” he says. “Please. Please, I need to.”

I shake my head. “Not yet.” 

He lets out a desperate cry. “Please!”

“Gotta be a good boy, baby,” I remind him. 

“I’m being so good,” he whimpers. His eyes are full, tears almost pouring out as he struggles to hold back.

“I know baby,” I nod, knowing he needs that praise and validation right now. I drag the vibrator up and down his cock before pressing it to his tip again as I stroke the area. 

“Fuck!” he shouts, his hips raising again with no control as he cums, catching us both by surprise. My eyes widen before I look up, meeting his eyes. He’s shaking his head like crazy as he continues to cum. “I’m so sorry, mommy. Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please.”

I let him finish before I remove the vibrator, tossing it to the floor. I press soft kisses from his stomach up to his lips before peppering his face in kisses. “It’s okay, baby. Did so good for me, hm?”

He nods breathlessly. “Thank you for waking me up, but now I really need to go back to sleep. I’m exhausted.” 

I smile. “Let’s go shower and get back in bed, okay?”

He nods, pressing a tired kiss to my cheek before pulling himself out of bed. 

@freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #strawberrysturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you

[jinhyun]

Omggggg

Lino and the "friends? Why are you looking at me like that?" prompt, where he asks reader what they are, and is finally frustrated (and whipped) enough to come clean about his feelings, after some time in their fwb/situationship, or wtv they had going on

Like some angsty (or maybe funny?) thing, with a happy ending obviously, it's all up to you if it's something you're interested in writing :)

Love your works, hope you're doing great love!!

"What are we?"

"Friends?" you answered in a heartbeat.

And maybe your answer had come just a little too fast for his liking; like you were too fucking sure of the fact that the two of you were just friends.

Not even the way your head had tilted as you spoke, or how your tone had come out as more of a questioning one, was enough to convince him you were not entirely sure of your answer either.

Minho remained silent, staring at you intensely enough to let you know with his eyes alone that he was not pleased at all.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked, voice almost like a whisper.

He shrugged, taking his eyes off you and focusing on the door instead — the locked doorknob only seeming oh-so-ironic by then.

"Minho?" you pushed it, following his eyes and growing nervous at the sight of the cynical smile curving up his mouth.

"It's just funny, I guess" he finally replied, eyes fixing back on you. "I'm pretty sure friends don't lock themselves in the bathroom just so they can make out while all their friends are downstairs. I guess I got it all wrong".

"Stop it," you mumbled, grabbing his wrist when he tried to reach for the doorknob. "Are you really mad right now?"

"Should I not?" he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I don't know, I..." you took a deep breath, not understanding how it all went wrong so fast. "I thought this is what you wanted? We were good like this? No strings attached?"

"Maybe at first, but things have changed now" he stated, looking into your eyes for some kind of confirmation. "Am I really the only one who feels that everything's changed between us?"

He wasn't. So, you let him know by lowering your head.

It had all started with a drunken kiss that later turned into more, but neither of you were stupid enough not to realise that the alcohol intoxicating your systems had only given you the little push you needed to do what you both had wanted to for a good while by then.

So, the next time it happened, neither of you needed to use alcohol as an excuse. And after that it just kept happening — over and over, like it was the most natural of things between you two.

You had never sat down to discuss the grounds of whatever this new dynamic of yours was. You were just friends who enjoyed the intimacy of each other's bodies, and you were okay with it so far. Your friendship didn't have to change because of it.

But it did.

Before you could even tell, it did; and you both were left feeling like the kisses you shared and the touches that made you come undone in a matter of minutes, meant something deeper than just two friends having fun together.

It was unspoken, but there had been a switch in your relationship; and although neither of you had been brave enough to bring it up —until now—, you both had welcomed it with open arms.

"Are we really just friends?" He asked.

You laughed under your breath, weakly. Still too stunned by the sudden question.

"What's so funny?" He frowned.

"Nothing," you shook your head, looking up to meet his eyes. "I just, never thought you'd care about labels".

"Well, obviously I'd care when Chan is trying to set you up with one of his friends".

That's when it hit you, why he had dragged you upstairs only a couple of minutes after the whole 'dating' topic was discussed — crashing his mouth against yours the moment the door was closed and cornering you against the sink, where he would later sit you down on.

Most importantly, however, it hit you why the question that was looking to define your relationship had so smoothly ran past his lips.

Smiling, you took a hold of his wrists, pulling him closer and placing them on your waist, before your arms snaked around his neck.

"So this is just you wanting to have some kind of claim on me?"

"I wouldn't call it a claim on you," he disagreed, softly caressing your sides with his thumbs out of utter habit. "Just, don't want you to go out with other people".

"Just say you fell for me and go" you smirked.

"Shut up..." he sighed, gently letting his forehead rest on yours. "But you're mine, though".

You could hardly hold back a squeal at the sound of those words abandoning his mouth, but you somehow managed to by biting your lip and shaking your head in defeat as a wide smile tried to break through. "Didn't you just answer your own question now?"

"Nope, I just said you're mine" he pulled you closer, tightening his hold on your waist. "Still don't know what we are".

You sighed, lovingly this time. It almost felt like a dream, where you got what you had wanted all along. Almost too surreal to believe this was reality.

"All of this because Channie vaguely mentioned setting me up with one of his mates?" You couldn't help but incredulously let out.

"Yes, now give me a proper answer".

"Why don't you take me out on a date first?" you proposed. "You know, like, a proper boyfriend and girlfriend date?"

You could see the way he beamed at the mention of said labels; he did not try to hide it at all. "And then I'll have my answer?"

You smiled, tenderly brushing your lips against his. "And then you'll have your answer".

Laughing under his breath as his hands cupped your face and his thumb traced your bottom lip, he whispered a small 'okay' before he closed the gap between your mouths.

Just like that, closing the deal.

"And you better not hit me with the friends bullshit again, becau—"

You shut him up with another kiss. One that would last longer, and that was enough for him to know you would never try to deny the obvious feelings between the two of you again.

#skz #stray kids #lee know #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know imagines #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #lee know reactions #lee minho #skz minho #i'm not sure if this is what you wanted but i hope you enjoy! tysm for requesting!!

[feeder86]

The Feeders' Fortress

It was the dirty floor against his face that Mike noticed first. His head felt fuzzy and the room was so incredibly dark. It was impossible to work out where he was. He stumbled groggily to his feet, realising that he was dressed only in his underwear. What the hell kind of party had he been to last night to wake up here? Then again, had he been to a party last night? His head was so disorganised.

Reaching around the space, Mike tried to find his clothes and, hopefully, his cell phone so that he could find some light. As he did so, he heard footsteps creeping outside of the room and, for the first time, a streak of light through the crack under the door.

“There’s another one in here!” cried a deep masculine voice as the door opened and Mike suddenly had a small torch shone straight into his face. “Same as us. Underwear. No clothes in sight.”

“What’s going on?” Mike asked indignantly.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” sighed another voice beside the person shining the torch. He reached out his hand and lowered the light so that Mike was no longer blinded. Where the light touched, Mike could see the dilapidated interior of the house he was in: filthy, boarded up and crumbling. Tired, dated pieces of furniture lay haphazardly around the edges of the room, some covered poorly with dust sheets.

“What is this place?” Mike mumbled, getting to his feet.

“Someone’s creepy idea of a joke, no doubt,” came another voice as the footsteps of the guys entered the room. “It looks like your classic haunted mansion. All the windows and doors are locked tight and we haven’t found the way out yet.”

“If there even is one,” replied a pessimistic voice.

“Of course there is,” disputed the guy holding the torch who had seemed to appoint himself the leader. “We got in here somehow, didn’t we? So there has to be a way out.”

The others sighed. None of them claimed to know how they had arrived, each arguing their alternative theories about why they were there. None of them had before. They were all strangers. But, to Mike, there was one clear detail that each of them had in common: outstandingly good looks.

Finn, holding the torch, was a quarterback for the local college team and, even in the limited lighting, Mike could tell that the guy was more strapping than anyone he had ever seen on the pitch. The person standing beside him was Oliver; even taller and toned to absolute perfection. Like Mike, he did some modelling whilst studying in college. Mike knew the agency that he worked for and, whilst the other two were arguing about which direction to search next, the pair discussed the surprising stresses they had encountered with certain jobs they had done. The only other guy was Rob, another football jock for a rival team of Finn’s, though neither of them claimed to know the other. He was built for clear functional athleticism, with the lightest six pack of all of them and a meaty, muscular butt. Delicious.

Even now, in this bizarre situation, Mike could feel himself getting aroused in their presence: these three gorgeous, practically naked boys. Together, they were calm, even jovial. They bolstered each other’s confidence, methodically searching the large building as if they were trying to hide the fact that they were silently terrified. There had to be answers to their questions somewhere in this building.

“What’s down there, do you think?” Oliver asked as they shone the torch down some stairs. 

Out of habit, Mike flicked the light switch, expecting nothing to happen, when suddenly, the whole room below lit up perfectly.

“Success!” roared Finn, heading straight down; soon followed by the others, at quite some pace.

What lay below was the most bizarre of sights: a small, neatly made up dining table, filled with tasty treats: cakes, doughnuts, cookies and pastries; all fresh and smelling incredible. Such a homely scene lightened the mood further, with Finn and Rob heading to sit down at the table and Mike following them, if only to hide the tightness in his crotch which would be clearly evident in this well lit room.

“I knew we’d be alright! This just proves it. It’s definitely some sort of prank,” Finn smiled, reaching out for one of the doughnuts.

Oliver stood to the side, surveying the scene with more scepticism. “Isn’t this a bit fucking weird?” he asked. “This whole place is a shit hole, and now this?” he pointed at the homely scene before him.

“Relax!” Finn scoffed at him, already chewing on a bite of the doughnut. “It tastes fine.”

Rob reached out next, picking up a pastry, now that Finn had sampled the goods. Meanwhile, Mike had his eye on one of the cupcakes, feeling surprisingly hungry after waking up here. Eventually, even Oliver followed them to the table,sitting down at the fourth chair, picking up a cookie and nibbling it with only a small amount of hesitancy.

Under the light, it was clear just how beautiful these guys all were. Mike found himself trying not to stare for fear that his erection may get even more severe if they all had to get up soon and explore the place some more. The mood was relaxed and surprisingly light-hearted as Finn reached for a second and third doughnut before any of the others had even finished their first chosen snack.

“Who do you think made all these?” Oliver asked the guys.

“Whoever it is pranking us,” Rob replied, scanning the room for cameras as he sat at the table.

Mike sat up nervously. He didn’t want to be on camera right now. Not with his erection as it was.

Mike suddenly felt a slight prod on his arm as Oliver looked at him seriously, pointing across to Finn. The movement caught Rob’s attention as well, until all three of them were gazing at a now motionless Finn, staring down at the table and seemingly stunned after finishing his third doughnut.

“Are you alright, buddy?” Rob asked, noting the sweat that was glistening on Finn’s face.

Finn looked up slowly until his eyes met with Mike’s right across the table from him. His jaw was slack as he picked himself up by leaning his strapping body on the table. Then, from out of nowhere, a giant burp erupted from his throat, right in front of Mike. It was so loud and deep, completely unnatural after such light snacks, making the three others stare across in panic.

“What the fuck?” Oliver asked, standing up in alarm, sensing immediately that something was wrong. It was then that Mike noticed that Finn was not as slim as he had thought; that for all his muscles, he was actually carrying a little paunch that looked bizarrely out of place.

FInn’s hips started to rock, like he was fucking some invisible girl in front of him, and, even in his loose fitting trunks, it was clear to Mike that the guy was also nursing an erection.

“What’s he doing?” Rob shouted; his eyes similarly caught by the shape of Finn’s stomach. Each time the guy rocked back and forth, the budding love handles at his sides seemed to swell more and more.

At some point, all three of them realised what was happening. It was the way Finn’s gut began to flutter and jiggle with the shaking. Fat was ballooning in his stomach, actually pushing it outwards. The relaxed fit of his underwear began to disappear as the gentle creases stretched out and the material tightened around him, spurred on by an obvious widening of his tight butt. It was then that Mike began to observe even Finn’s chest starting to succumb; his nipples pointing and a softness spreading into his pecs. It seemed to bloom and spread itself under his arms, softening up his biceps at the same time and swelling his neck; producing a shameful double chin.

Oliver was still the only one up, with Mike and Rob still stunned in their seats. Then, without warning, Rob suddenly bolted for the stairs, grabbing the torch at the same time.

“What do we do?” Oliver asked Mike in pure panic, clearly desperate to follow Rob and get the hell out of there.

Finn’s sweaty body glistened as fat spread throughout. The blubber began to pour itself over the tight waistband of the guy’s underwear, now digging in quite painfully. Mike could see the guy looking down at himself in shock and alarm: his beautiful body becoming more and more obese.

Mike had no answer for what was happening or what on Earth they were supposed to do about it. He could see Oliver looking back towards the dark stairs; no sign of Rob at all. More than once, Mike thought that Oliver might run off in fear as well. If he did, Mike decided he was going to run straight out with him.

A general widening seemed to take place in Finn’s body. The love handles pushed out to further extents and his hips swelled above the two extremely blubbery thighs. The guy’s cute underwear had allowed his large, sweaty glutes to slip out as the inflation took hold. Now the material began to tear; stretched as they were in every direction.

Within no time at all, Mike realised that Finn was now carrying an insane amount of fat on his body; 400 lbs? 450? His underwear were reduced to little more than rags, still dangling from a destroyed waistband; an entire sack of lard now filling Finn’s groin. 

Oliver bolted, quickly followed by a petrified Mike, throwing himself up the pitch-black stairs. “Wait up!” he cried out in horror, wincing as his feet stepped over the debris and dust. All he could do was follow the sounds of Oliver’s lightning footsteps. 

Suddenly, Mike felt himself bumping straight into Oliver, knocking them both to the floor.

“Watch it!” Oliver grumbled. “What the hell were you running for? We can barely see a thing!”

Mike’s mouth filled with all the things he wanted to say and then, just as quickly as they arrived, nothing. Why was he running? Had something scared him? No. He would have remembered that. He shuffled to his feet. “Sorry,” he mumbled, feeling rather silly. “I must have just been trying to catch you up.”

Oliver shushed him and the pair listened intently as voices came from another wing of the enormous house. They began stepping in the same direction, noticing faint glows of the torch around one corner.

“But this is the way I came in!” argued a new voice. “The door was open, and now…” he shouted, banging forcefully on what appeared to be the front door.

“Oh, thank heavens!” Oliver bellowed, finally spotting Rob standing next to a police officer. 

The relief that Mike felt was indescribable. Tall, built and appearing nothing but strong and capable, the police officer turned to face them both, shining a second torch in their faces.

“Is this all of you?” the cop asked. 

“No, there’s another guy,” Rob mumbled, as if he couldn’t quite remember exactly. “Finn. He’s downstairs somewhere. He was eating some food we found,” he continued; his voice wispy, like he was trying to piece something together. He’s pretty big and heavy though. I don’t suppose he wants to go walking all around this place at that size.”

Mike nodded, realising that Rob was probably right. That must have been why Finn stayed down in the basement. 

“Well, this door has locked behind me. I don’t have any signal on my cell phone and there doesn’t seem to be any reception for me to contact the station on my radio,” the cop explained grumpily. “I guess you had better take me to see this Finn guy so that I can check on him too,” he finally decided, slamming into the heavy door one final time, just in case it budged at all. 

Oliver and Mike took one torch, whilst the cop and Rob walked ahead with the other.

“Do you think he’s a real cop?” Oliver whispered to Mike. “This whole thing just seems to be getting weirder and weirder, don’t you think?”

Mike pondered the idea. He’d not imagined that the cop was not genuine. But Oliver was right. Here he was, wandering around, almost naked in an abandoned mansion with no idea how late at night it was. Absolutely anything was possible.

“Where exactly are we?” he shouted ahead to the cop. “How did you know to come looking here?”

The cop began explaining the exact location of the mansion. “This old place has been crumbling for years,” the guy stated, after informing them all how far out of the city they were right now. “We used to get calls about trespassers quite a lot, but that all stopped about six months ago. Until tonight.”

In the dim light, Mike could feel Oliver looking at him from the side. The guy wasn’t trusting a word that was coming out of the cop’s mouth. 

“Something’s up with Rob,” Oliver whispered a few moments later, when they had slowed their pace to allow the other two to go even further ahead, in search of the stairs to the basement. “Have you noticed how much he is sweating?”

Mike shone the light a little more on Rob. Oliver’s observations were spot on. The guy’s broad back was glistening with sweat, running down his back and drenching into his boxers, all down his butt crack. Something about it all seemed so familiar, although Mike couldn’t put his finger on why. Was this a bad sign? Was it something to be feared?

“We need to keep our distance from him,” Oliver decided, pulling Mike back a little bit more to let the cop and Rob get even more ahead of them. They kept a slow pace behind and waited as the pair eventually found the staircase down to the basement, heading straight down.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked, feeling that Oliver’s senses were sharper than his own; his instincts better.

Oliver rubbed his face, clearly stressed. “I don’t know!” he sighed. “But something tells me it’s going to be me and you finding our way out of here. I don’t trust that cop, and as for Rob…” he whispered. “I just have this really bad feeling.”

Suddenly, the cop was shouting at the top of his voice from the basement, startling both Oliver and Mike.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he blasted. “What are you doing?”

Racing down, Oliver took the lead, standing on the staircase in front of Mike as they looked on at the scene. Rob’s body was rocking and shaking, his tight abs suddenly swollen and buried. The cop stood crouched to the side, his gun out and seemingly very afraid. Whatever was taking over Rob had a very firm grip on his body; thrashing him about as his stomach continued to grow.

In those moments, Mike suddenly remembered what he had witnessed happening to Finn. How could he ever have forgotten? There Finn was, snoozing on the floor, encased in mountains of fresh fat.

“What’s going on?” the cop demanded of Oliver and Mike.

“The food!” Mike mumbled, seeing it all there, continuing to invite them in. “There’s something in the food!” he stated with more certainty as Rob’s fine torso began to be consumed with an onslaught of blubber, swelling into his pecs and rounding out his stomach so that it pushed out further and further. The guy was panicking, managing to waddle around as his body shook, and he gazed at all the food that Mike was now blaming. Just what was it doing to him?

“But we ate the food as well,” Oliver shot back, terrified and transfixed as Rob’s butt widened in those cute little boxers of his; fat starting to crease the skin on his back and love handles swelling out further every single second. The butt crack began to peak out as the glutes grew; little more than an inch to begin with, then more and more; until his super sized butt was almost entirely outside of the underwear. That was when it ripped at the weaker stitching between his lardy legs and the material began to deteriorate quickly; all the elastic stretched beyond its capacity.

Mike put a comforting hand on Oliver’s strong shoulder, hoping to ease his worries in any way that he could.

The cop had fallen to the ground, backing up into the corner by the stairs and holding his gun out still; no longer so big, strong and tough.

Oliver reached his hand up and lovingly held Mike’s own hand upon his shoulder. Despite everything, the sensation of Oliver’s touch was all Mike needed.

Rob had fallen onto the floor, the transformation seemingly at an end, and a deathly silence filled the room.

“We’re fucked!” Oliver sighed. “Absolutely fucked!” He looked at Mike, his eyes full of concern for him. “Will it be us next, do you think?” he asked Mike, still holding his hand sweetly.

At that moment, Mike felt so completely smitten. Yet he nodded. “I think so,” he agreed sadly.

“What the hell are you on about?” the cop demanded of them both, still clearly terrified from what he had just seen. “Food can’t do that to someone! Not like that, anyway.”

“There’s no other way to explain it,” Oliver shrugged. “It took Finn first because he had eaten the most. Now Rob…”

The police officer stared hard at the two enormously fat guys on the floor and then looked in amazement at all the food still resting on the table. But then, his eyes widened even further and he stood up in horror. “Those doughnuts!” he shouted, looking straight at the unusually colourful and sprinkled treats on the table. “There was one just like it on my desk earlier! I thought it was from one of my colleagues.”

Mike and Oliver looked at each other with worry. Was the guy who was here to rescue them, actually just another victim? 

“But did you eat it?” Oliver demanded of him.

“Yes, I ate it!” the cop shouted back, getting angry now. He seemed to feel faint, getting hot under the collar and putting back his gun so that he could take off his shirt.

Again, Mike and Oliver looked at each other. Why was the cop getting so sweaty all of a sudden? They watched as he shuffled around, leaning against the side, kicking off his shoes and even pulling off his socks, as if every piece of clothing was irritating his skin.

“Um, Sir…” Oliver cried out awkwardly as the cop untied his belt, discarding even his gun without a care, then unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor.

In this state, it was clear to see what the cop had had in common with the four of them; young, handsome and highly athletic as he clearly was.

“Oh, no!” the cop mumbled, tensing all the muscles in his strapping body.

“What’s happening?” Oliver whispered to Mike.

“It must be trying to take him,” Mike shot back. “I think he’s actually trying to fight it.”

Both Mike and Oliver climbed two steps further up the stairs, abandoning the cop and knowing that there was nothing they could do to help him now. The gorgeous officer was grunting and bracing himself against the wall. The sounds he was making reminded Mike of the guys he had seen in the gym trying to lift extremely heavy weights.

“I can’t watch!” Mike whispered to Oliver, who had taken a further step up to sit beside him on the stairs and kindly draped his arm over Mike’s shoulders.

“We must,” Oliver whispered back. “We’ve got to see if he can do it. Who knows, right?”

“Maybe he can fight it off,” Mike agreed hopefully.

“Shit,” Oliver replied, quickly shutting Mike down. “Look at his abs. Can you see? The skin around them is starting to bloat up.”

Oliver leaned his head against Mike’s and rubbed his back soothingly. The arousal Mike felt was spiking once again and he found himself momentarily lost, even as the cop battled on only a few feet away.

“It’s a battle that cannot be won. This guy only got married last year,” Oliver continued, as they both looked across at the police officer. “Yet he’s already cheating on his wife with a new recruit at his station. That’s why he ate the doughnut. He thought it was from her.”

Oliver’s voice was so soothing and intense. Mike felt as though he could sit there all day long admiring the perfect man beside him. But, what was he actually saying? Mike had to replay it in his head, before the obvious question dawned in him. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“His secret girlfriend says she can’t resist those tight little buns of his,” Oliver whispered teasingly, as if trying to hold back a laugh. “Not so tight anymore. Wouldn’t you agree, Mike?” he asked; the pair of them watching as the cop growled loudly in desperation to hold back whatever force was taking him. But Oliver was right; slowly, but surely, the guy’s butt had started to develop some extra meat to it, rounding the glutes in a way that only fat ever could.

“What are you saying?” Mike asked, feeling Oliver’s presence becoming more powerful. 

“Shh,” Oliver soothed, rubbing Mike’s back and continuing to lean his head against his, forcing them both to watch the action in front of them. “We can’t have a cop that handsome walking around, can we?”

Mike’s heartbeat rose to new heights. The person who was controlling all of this had been with him the entire time. His body tensed, making Oliver sigh in happiness as he stuck close to him on that step.

“I love this bit!” Oliver continued whispering, as if telling Mike a bedtime story. “Can you see how he’s trying to hold his breath? He thinks he can force it back down, but he can’t. The formula has now spread into every cell in his body.”

Even with the officer trying to hold on tight, a slow, insidious tire of fat was gently forming over his abs and budding softness grew into love handles. The effort of holding his breath was taking it out of him; his eyes were screaming for release and cheeks had filled with air. Now his eyes were shutting tight, as if to concentrate even more, when a tiny burst of air slipped through his lips like a leaking pipe; more and more, until the floodgates had opened and he had to let it all go; sucking up a great big chestful of air and then burping like never before; all control stripped from him.

That brief pause in the guy’s attention was seemingly all this formula had needed to take control. The hips began thrashing about with surprising violence, with his stomach and rear inflating with remarkable speed; as if making up for lost time.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Oliver asked, kissing Mike sweetly on the side of his head. “So much fat! The thighs, the chest and the arms!” There was such a thrill in his quiet voice, as if he was deliberately controlling his elation to creep Mike out even more.

“Why are you doing this?” Mike asked; eyes still fixed on the ballooning cop as his jawline disappeared under the building flesh in his neck and chin, and blossoming into his cheeks.

“Because I can… And because I want to,” Oliver quietly replied, as he continued to stroke Mike’s back. “Look at him!” he cooed. “Pecs are gone already!”

Mike watched as the officer’s nipples started to bounce and his thick thighs swelled outwards, blowing up his butt to a size that was almost disproportionate to his frame.

“I wonder what his girlfriend will say about him now,” Oliver joked, knowing that Mike would be looking at exactly the same thing. “A disgusting, overfed, fat ass like that!” he whispered gently into Mike’s ear, making every part of the boy tingle with a baffling excitement. “You’re going to be a fat boy, just like him soon…” the devil whispered into his ear.

Mike wanted to get up and run, but being so close to Oliver felt like something he had longed for his entire life. Was this what love felt like? This yearning to be with someone, no matter what?”

Oliver began to caress the tip of Mike’s throbbing hardness under his underwear. “How exciting for you. A whole new life for yourself as one of my fatties,” he teased, turning his head so that he could whisper directly into Mike’s ear as he watched the cop continuing to become even more extremely obese, lose his balance and slide against the wall; landing with a splat on his enormously overgrown backside. Yet, even sitting down, his butt and thighs continued to spread out onto the floor; the rolls and blubber that decorated his torso, softening and spreading; folds deepening every second. 

Then, just like that, the cop had fallen asleep; his revoltingly obese body resting after the dramatic trauma it had just endured. Mike gasped, but not because of the sight in front of him. It was Oliver, continuing to massage his erection. He was brought so close to climaxing, that when Oliver brought his lips towards him, Mike moved swiftly to meet them in a deep, passionate kiss.

As they came out of the kiss, Oliver gently stroked Mike’s hair back from his face. “I’ve so enjoyed our time together,” he smiled with delight. “You’ve been so entertaining, from the very start.”

Mike smiled back, in awe of the amazing man who was giving him all the attention he could ever wish.

Oliver brought his nose close to Mike’s neck and sniffed in deeply all the way up to the top of his head. “I can smell my formula inside of you!” he breathed with genuine eroticism at the thought. “It’s getting ready to take you!”

Oliver took Mike by the hand and stood him up. The pair came down the stairs, stepping over the gigantic cop’s outstretched legs and into the light properly. There was not a single part of Mike that wanted to resist.

“Let’s take these off, shall we?” Oliver asked, pulling the underwear down so that they dropped around Mike’s feet; his hardness springing out with an almost embarrassing enthusiasm “You’ve been such a good boy, this whole time. I picked the cop as the one who would be able to hold out the longest, but I’m so glad that it was you. Such a handsome boy!” he marvelled, stroking Mike’s face. “When I saw you in that magazine, I knew I had to take you.”

“I’m all yours!” Mike spluttered lustfully back; for some reason, only wanting Oliver to touch him again like he had on the stairs.

“Do you really mean that?” Oliver asked, barely concealing a grin behind those innocent looking eyes.

“I do!” Mike nodded. “I would do anything for you!”

“Then prove it,” Oliver snapped. “Don’t make me wait for you. Take another piece from the table and overdose on my formula just like that first idiot did,” he ordered. “Set my beautiful formula into action!”

Inexplicably, Mike’s feet were taking him towards the table. If this was the way to please Oliver, he needed to show him that he could do it. He grabbed at a doughnut and made to push it towards his mouth. However, just as he almost made it, Mike’s hand stopped and tried to push back. There was some invisible, subconscious part of his brain, still active and working, despite the fogginess that was clouding everything else.

Oliver smirked, as if he knew exactly what was going on; why Mike’s hand was not letting him eat. He seized the guy’s wrist and pushed it forwards with remarkable strength as Mike made every effort to keep his mouth wide open and let it fall onto his tongue. He bit down, watched carefully by Oliver, standing in front of him, smiling victoriously,

By the second bite, Mike felt his jaw slacken and stop working. A rumbling burp rolled from his throat, entirely unchallenged. The haze around him seemed to have grown more intense. Oliver was still in front of him, but circling around like a sergeant major conducting an inspection, or a killer whale startling its prey. It was only when he heard the man laughing that Mike knew his hips had begun to rock. He had no idea how the cop had tried to fight it off. The autonomous nature of whatever process this was, seemed entirely beyond his understanding. A warmth was filling his body; building and strengthening. Then that warmth seemed to spread itself across those areas that Mike had seen on the other guys: his stomach felt almost red hot, whilst his butt and legs were tingling and changing rapidly.

Oliver’s hands were seizing upon him, grabbing and pinching parts of his body that Mike didn’t even know existed. Mike tried to speak, to ask Oliver if it was working, but his mouth could not shape the words. Only a groan made it out, shaken and rocked by the vibrations of his instantaneously transforming body. 

Waves of fat began to bounce and crash into each other as Mike felt fresh flesh developing all over his body. A few seconds in, he had thought that Oliver had grabbed at his hardness again. However, he soon realised that it was the tip of his penis slapping against an enormous roll of fat that had invaded his torso. He looked down, seeing the remarkable width of his squishy stomach and the strange pointing of his nipples.

Oliver’s voice was far from soothing now. He was shouting and calling him out on his grotesquely overfed body; telling him how greedy he was, or likening him to a pig. He even oinked triumphantly right down Mike’s ear. 

The body that Mike was in no longer felt like his own anymore. His whole being had been transported into that of something new. The space that he occupied was incredible, surging outwards more and more. He lost his balance, feeling his giant self being collected by Oliver’s unnaturally strong arms as he was gently lowered to the ground.

Mike got a look at his disgusting, blubbery physique, wondering how he would ever use it.  How could he do anything with that enormous belly in the way? How could he get himself up the stairs to his apartment? He’d certainly never squeeze himself into his tiny shower, or find any clothes at regular stores to cover himself up with.

“Goodnight, Fat Boy!” Oiver sang as Mike felt his eyes getting heavy. He knew he'd never see Oliver again. He’d served his purpose. He’d entertained. Now came the sleep that would erase everything from his mind. The factory reset that would prepare him for his life as one of Oliver’s fat boys.

#gainer fiction #gay feedee #gainerstory #gayfeeder #gainerfic #gainer story #gainer stories #gayfeedee #gainerstories #gainer fic

[kooeater]

kissy face | JJK

Jungkook x f.reader

childhood friends' au / smut - fluff

warnings: slight innocence, dry humping, pet names, kissing, making out, assume legal age, inexperienced, virgins, walk in, rich kids, explicit, language, whinnying, slight teasing, top!reader, bottom!jk, crying jk

"you sure best friends are allowed to do this?" Jungkook whispers in your ear as you tell him that you want to plant kisses on his face with a fresh coat of pink gloss.

The idea came up as you were watching a YouTube video about "constantly kissing my boyfriend on the face to see his reaction"

You didn't have a boyfriend, you never really liked a boy like that. You never felt anything for another boy, the only boy you really cared about was Jungkook who just happened to be your childhood best friend.

You two are sitting on your bed, both of your parents away at a fancy dinner while discussing business topics for their multi million dollar company. Maids were making a bit noise downstairs but you didn't mind much since both you and Jungkook were used to house workers since birth.

"Well if the people really like each other they kiss, and we like each other right?" your round eyes sparkle up at Jungkook as you ask him the question. Jungkook blushes softly, he gets shy and looks away, eyes scanning your room.

He looks at the soft pastel pink wallpaper, your shelf full of romantic books you always read, your vanity that had all sorts of makeup and skin care. He notices how all of the products you buy are pink and girly. He looks at all the plushies you had, you were obsessed with plushies, he eyes all your pearl necklaces, you had a ton.

"Yeah I guess we do"

With that your pink tinted glossy lips go on the right side of Jungkooks cheek first, your breast brush against Jungkooks chest making him want to scream. Your lips start to kiss him on every spot of his face, you start to giggle as you find it funny that your lip marks are printed perfectly on your best friends face.

The way your warm vanilla scent becomes stronger whenever your lips are near his face makes his mind frizzy.

"you look so cute!"

you giggle out as you pull away from Jungkooks face. You bring your hand mirror to his face, he looks at the kiss marks you drowned him in. For some reason he was happy to have your marks on his face, he'd walk around in public with your marks on his face and he wouldn't care what others would say.

"what's on your mind koo?" you ask so innocently. Jungkook didn't say anything, instead he smashed his lips against yours. You didn't know how to kiss, and neither did he. Your eyes widen at the fact that your childhood best friend has his lips on yours.

He pulls away, he opens his eyes and sees how you're in shock. He panics at the thought of you getting mad at him but he doesn't say a word. He doesn't know what to say, "oh sorry I really wanted your lips on mines because you're making me feel all these strange feelings" that just sounds all stupid to him.

However...

It wasn't long until you found yourself on Jungkooks lap, making out with him. You didn't know what you were doing but you were doing what your natural intentions were telling you and so was he. Your private part felt a odd sensation, you needed some friction on it so you rocked your hips so Jungkooks growing bulge would rub against your pussy. Both you and Jungkook made whimpering sounds against each others lips.

"Can we do it more? Can.. can you rub yourself on me again. It feels so so good ___ I can't take it! I need it.. I need to feel you on me please please please" Jungkooks whines made your heart skip a beat. He was so cute. He was older, taller, and stronger than you yet he was so soft and cute towards you.

"Yeah of course koo, just be good for me mkay?" you wanted him to be a good boy for you, you wanted him to let you take care of him.

He nods at your words before you quickly get off of his lap and signal him to lay down on your bed. You shove the hello kitty plushies off your bed and make sure Jungkooks head is comfortably laying on your big fluffy king sized pillow, it was a must to have Jungkook feeling well at all times.

Definitely not in the "Women are here to take care of the men!" bullshit kind of way but in the way that even though he's older taller and stronger than you but he's still your baby, he obeys you while you take good care of him.

"you look so beautiful" Jungkook says as you begin to slowly take your clothing off, you're only left in your white top and your white panties with the cute baby pink bow on the front.

"Let me take your shirt off koo" he nods so you take off his over sized black t shirt, leaving him in just his pajama pants.

You could tell Jungkook wasn't wearing any underwear on especially because you can see the outline of his cock so well, so one tug of his pajama pants his penis will be exposed.

You eye his beautiful abs, you've seen some of his abs before but not like this. Your pedicured fingers drag across his abs, he tries to hide his face by turning to the right but you softly grab his face

"Don't. I wanna see you koo, and you want me to do that thing again right?" you ask him, not wanting to make him uncomfortable

"please. I don't want to be rude but stop talking and do it again. I like feeling you so close to me."

It wasn't long when you crawl on Jungkooks laying figure. You're now on top of him, your core pressed against his bulge that was harder than before. You feel your private area grow excessively wet, it was clenching around nothing. You look at Jungkook, his big round eyes look at you with a pleading look. You smile at him before you start to move against him, the whines come out of his lips again. You see the way he closes his eyes, the way his lips part as he lets out soft moans for your ears to drown in.

His hands go to your hips and slightly grips them, something tells you he wants you to move faster. You plant your hands on his chest and move your clothed pussy against his hard bulge faster, you then moan at the way your clit was being simulated by the friction. It wasn't long until you and Jungkook both felt this feeling inside your stomachs, it was like a fire in your lower abdomen.. a good fire.

"Koo.. w-what is going on oh my god!" you screech as you felt yourself release some gooey liquid out of your pussy.

Jungkook saw the way you were slightly shaking on him, how your face twitched, how beautiful you looked when you reached your climax. Soon Jungkook felt himself cream in his pants, his eyes are teary at the pleasure. He sniffles as you wipe the tears off from his face.. he's so cute. At first he thought he pissed himself until he realized it was the same liquid that comes out when he thinks about you at night. What did they call it.. cum? He searched it up but he really didn't understand it much, maybe he'll ask you to look it up with him tomorrow.

"We should do that again" Jungkook says to you, you collapse by him and hug him from his side. He hugs you back, he feels so close to you.. like you two are one.

Your lips found their way back on his lips again, you then felt yourself rub against him again. Jungkook smiled to himself at how much you wanted to feel him, although he was a bit tired he'd put up with you on top of him again.

You and Jungkook were living in the moment you didn't realize 4 adults that happened to be your parents at you door.

"oh my goodness! Were you two.. oh my Jungkookie is all grown up now!" Your eyes widen along with Jungkooks as you both heard his mother's voice.

You look at your doorway and see your father, no emotion on his face.. he doesn't seem angry or sad he just seems unamused. Your mother had her hand over her mouth, Jungkooks father trying not to laugh and Jungkooks mother happy that her son is finally experiencing adulthood with a girl.

You'd expect scolding from both of your parents but really they knew this was going to happen between you two one day, they were childhood best friends themselves, they all used to be friends and now they're married with children.

It was safe to say, you'd be able to giving Jungkook kisses all over his face without hiding it from anyone

-

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-

🤍🎀 an: I had fun writing this, it was so cute!! I loved everything about it honestly, I wish I added more smut but also at the same time I wanted this to be very fluffy and cute. Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed!! If you did like and follow me if you feel like it, much love always ~.~

- belle 💋

#jungkook smut #coquette #jungkook x reader

[astrolynnworld]

warmhearted reveals

pairing: matt x reader

summary: you tell matt that you’re pregnant

warnings: fluff! love, romance, confessions, reassurance.

word count: 656

i prepared a nice dinner for when matt comes home so i can tell him the big news.

i can’t tell if he’ll be excited, shocked, or anxious. this is a big step in our lives, and i just hope he supports it

we have talked about wanting kids in the past, but we haven’t discussed goal, time, or plan.

i anticipate his arrival at the door as i let the food simmer on the stove for a little longer.

“baby? i’m home” matt says as he walks in through the front door

i go to greet him with a kiss and hug

“someone’s in a good mood today” he smiles as he sets down his stuff into the nearby office room

“you hungry? i made your favorite!” i gleefully share as he follows me to the kitchen

“duh!” he joking says, “it smells so good bae”

i prepare a plate for him before we sit across the dinner table

“how was work today?” i question

“it was great actually..”

“really? how so?” i follow up

“sucks to say but, one of the head managers of the inquiries office had gotten fired today because he violated one of the company policies, right?” he starts

“mhm” i acknowledge

“so they needed someone to take his job, and the head boss had put in a good word for me because he sees my progress in the job and says that i’ve been working hard for the last few months now.” he continues

“oh my god!! really? that’s so good baby. so what’s gonna happen?” i further ask

“well. today they had discussed it over a board meeting and went over some of my latest work to decide if i would be a good fit on the team and .. they all agreed.”

“BABY!!! that’s such great news oh my godd!! i’m so happy for you!! so you basically got promoted to the higher ups of the office right?” i proudly support

“yeah! and they’re raising my pay my 50%” he shares

“i’m so so happy for you matt!! great news all around. more money to go towards us and the baby!!” i quickly slip out

“what?” he questions

a smile plasters across my face

“i’m pregnant baby.”

he pauses and looks quickly takes a glance down at my stomach

“a- are you serious?” he anxiously stutters out

i nod my head slowly as i start to tear up

he comes around the table and kneels in front of me

“you’re not joking baby?” he says as the tears start to well up in his eyes

i shake my head no as i chuckle softly; tears starting to fall down my cheeks

he takes my hand and stands me up before embracing me into his own

“baby. we’re having a kid” he says as he tries to process his shock

“you’re pregnant with my baby right now, princess” he says as he pulls back from me

i see the tears starting to drip his face

“i can’t believe this baby. you’re really not lying to me?” he questions one more time

i grab his face and start to wipe his tears, “you’re gonna be a father, matt”

he lets his face fall into my hands as he brings his forehead to mine

“i can’t believe i’m about to start a family with you baby. it’s all i’ve ever dreamed of, since we were teenagers” he confesses

“i just can’t believe you’re really mine.” he says before kissing my forehead, “all mine.���

“i love you so so so so much, matt.” i speak out

“i love you so much more baby.” he kisses my lips, “both of you” he says as places his hand on my stomach

“why don’t you hop into bed, i’ll clean up dinner. there’s so many plans we have to discuss” he eagerly says

i laugh at his enthusiasm as i head back to the bedroom.

———————————————————————- taglist: @lenna-77 @cutiepatootie36273 @secret-sturniolo @sturns-blog @sturniolo-2003 @mayaaatok @sturnswrites @mattsleftnipple03 @mattybswife @tropicasturn @princessbetsy123-blog <333

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #smut #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fluff #fluff #sturniolo fandom #christopher sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fanfic #nick sturniolo fanfic

[a-small-safe-place]

His Haven

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader Pt. 1?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Homelander first met you, he just came in because Madelyn cooked up some scheme with Edgar to 'prove' that the members of The Seven were sound of mind and could pass a psychiatric evaluation similar to the one used in the army. Of course, you had been paid a lot of money to do the evaluations and even more money to ensure that these heroes passed no matter what they said. You were a respected psychiatrist in your field; that’s why Madelyn wanted you specifically.

Homelander went to his appointment, planning on leaving until you said something that caught his attention. You said, 'I am here for you. I took this job because you all spend your days helping and saving people, but at the end of the day, who helps and saves you? Obviously, I couldn’t physically save you, but I can be a place for you to talk if you need it. Nothing you say will leave this room.' Boy, did that stroke his ego in all the right ways. He decided to stay. Something about you was comforting, and he wanted to talk, so he started small with the obvious stuff. He led the conversation by making off-handed remarks about being better than everyone and having to be perfect for Vought. It was clear you didn’t understand his pain, but you were listening to him. You were actually listening to him and responding.

You weren’t like Madelyn, who seemed to argue with every other thing he said; you didn’t respond with dismissive and uncaring responses like Queen Maeve, and you could actually keep up with the conversation, unlike The Deep.

Homelander surprised you and himself when he began attending regular scheduled sessions. You usually led the discussion by asking various questions. Some questions he would lie about, not feeling totally safe to dive into certain topics, or he would just dodge the question and change the subject. Homelander knew you noticed this because anytime he did either of those things, your body language would change, and you would write something down in your little notebook. That notebook had made Homelander incredibly nervous until he found out you were not in there calling him a useless pussy. You were just simply writing topics you two had discussed and what topics made him uncomfortable.

You seemed to actually care about Homelander’s feelings, even the bad ones. Stan Edgar put Homelander in his place, and Homelander looked down avoiding Edgar’s pointed gaze like a child being scolded by their father. Homelander needed some reassurance, but he would never admit that willingly. Homelander felt weak and stupid for needing someone, but you didn’t seem to mind even when he was ranting and raving, so he went to you. You had been his haven. The one person he could confide in and actually be himself.

He arrived at your office in the morning while you happened to be filling out some paperwork. He knew you didn’t have any appointments today because this had been previously the day Vought scheduled for the evaluations of the heroes. Homelander spent the whole day pestering you. 'What are we doing now?' He asked, not entirely oblivious to your mild frustration. 'Still just filling out paperwork,' you replied. He rolled his eyes. 'God, your life is so boring. Go to work, talk to the crazies, fill out paperwork and go home, and you do that all alone? I forgot how boring normal people can be.'

You laughed before telling him, 'no one is keeping you here.' Homelander’s jaw tightened. This pissed him off. You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to offer to do something more fun. You seemed to notice that 1,000-yard stare he has as he retreats into his own mind. 'Look, I just mean that I have to finish work. I know it’s probably boring you to death just sitting here; you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,' you told him, which seemed to make him feel a bit better, but he’s not entirely out of his head. 'It’s fine, we can just talk while you work,' he tells you with a feigned smile.

Homelander begins to perk up while you finish your paperwork and finally asks you the million-dollar question, 'What are we doing when we get home?'

'I am going home to cook up some dinner and watch some television,' you told him, trying to hint that you were wanting to be alone. Homelander was undeterred. 'What are we eating? I could use a home-cooked meal. We could watch one of my movies. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.' Homelander needs you to agree and compliment him. He desperately wants you to tell him he does a good job, even if you’re just talking about acting. 'Yeah? Your movies are pretty famous,' you say, accepting your fate that he isn’t leaving you alone tonight.

The night is spent with him at your house. Homelander wastes no time making himself at home and pilfering through your things. He feels comfortable being so ensnared in your scent. He becomes more comfortable as the night carries on. You fix his plate and drink for dinner, and the two of you share a dinner that he perceives as romantic. Your food isn’t as good as the private chefs at Vought, but Homelander loves it because he got to see the love you put into making it just for him.

You two clean up together. It’s really you cleaning, and Homelander helps by talking about which movie of his you should watch tonight. Finally, you try to retire to your room, but he follows. 'I thought we were gonna watch a movie… it doesn’t have to be one of mine,' Homelander tries not to sound too desperate, and he hated to say that last bit.

'I had planned on watching something in my room, but you can come lay with me if you want,' you tell him reluctantly. Homelander is excited but tries to keep that hidden. You two lay down and begin watching one of his movies. By the end, Homelander is 'asleep.' He knows you can’t tell the difference in him and ignores you when you gently shake him trying to wake him. He’s not the biggest fan of sleeping in strange beds, but for you, he can make an exception. Next time, he wants you in his bed though.

#homelander x you #reader x homelander #gender neutral reader #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander #the boys fanfic #the boys #the seven #tw: homelander #psychiatrist!reader #psychiatrist x character #fem!reader #male!reader #nonbinary!reader

[fatecantstopme]

Unattached Drifter Christmas

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: Dean decides he’d rather spend Valentine’s Day curled up on the couch with you.

Warnings: Cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), oral (M & F receiving)

A/N: in honor of Valentine’s Day, I gift you an adorable Dean Winchester fluffy smutty delight. 💜

"What are your plans, Sammy?" you asked from your perch on the kitchen counter.

"I happen to have a date," he replied with a smirk.

"Oooo with whom?"

"Just a nice local girl I met at the library last week."

"Sam Winchester and the nice local girl...sounds like a book I'd read," you teased.

He rolled his eyes and threw a dish towel at you. "What about you?"

"I have an excellent night planned," you confirmed. "Since Dean will be out cruising for ladies to go home with, I figured I could steal the Dean Cave for the night. I'm ordering a pizza, watching scary movies, eating a shit ton of junk food, and washing it all down with a bottle of wine."

Sam laughed. "Now that sounds like a party."

"Someone say 'party'?" Dean asked as he entered the kitchen.

"We were just discussing our Valentine's Day plans," Sam responded.

"You celebrating Unattached Drifter Christmas?" you asked in a teasing tone.

Dean shrugged and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. "Nahh, I think I'm gonna sit this year out. I'd rather stay home."

"Awww man," you grumbled.

Dean looked at you with an arched brow. "Is that a problem?"

"No," you answered quickly. "It just puts a bit of a wrench in my plans."

"And what are your plans?" he asked.

"I was gonna take over the Dean Cave for the night--scary movie marathon, pizza, snacks, alcohol."

"Pizza, snacks, and alcohol is my holy trinity," Dean said with a wide smirk. "Would you be opposed to me crashing your party?"

"You hate scary movies," you said.

"Yeah, but you love them," he countered. "I'm the crasher, so I'm not gonna demand a change in movie genre."

You smiled at him. "Alright, then you can come. I'll even supply beer."

Dean winked at you. "The way to my heart," he teased.

You rolled your eyes and hopped off the counter. "Oh, did Sam mention he has a date tonight?"

Sam shot you a look and you hurried out of the kitchen, laughing quietly as Dean started to tease his brother.

"A date, baby bro? Look at you!"

**********

You'd sent Dean to pick up the pizza while you set up the Dean Cave for the evening's festivities. You'd made a run to the grocery store earlier in the day to pick up yours and Dean's favorite snacks, as well as a decent supply of wine and beer.

You were more than satisfied with your selections, but for some reason you felt anxious. Well...to be honest, you knew the reason. You hadn't expected Dean to be staying home and you certainly didn't count on him joining you for the evening.

You'd known Dean for a little over five years and in that time you'd grown to care about him deeply, more than you should. He was a genuinely good person underneath his gruff exterior, a facade he had dropped with you long ago.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you knew you loved him, but you would never say anything to him. You knew him too well. Dean had lost virtually everyone he'd ever loved and he blamed himself for their deaths. He avoided romantic relationships like the plague because he didn't want to add another name to the body count. It was hard enough for him to bring you into his life as a friend, and there was no way he would risk anything more than that.

So of course, you kept your mouth shut, hiding your feelings from both Winchesters. The only person that knew how you felt was Jody and she would take that secret to the grave if you wanted her to. You would rather have Dean as a friend than lose him completely.

You tossed your favorite oversized blanket onto the couch with a sigh. You were trying not to think about curling up next to Dean for a movie marathon on freaking Valentine's Day of all days. You knew it was the romantic nature of the day itself that had your stomach in knots. You'd watched movies and binge ate with Dean countless times before without issue, but there was an added intensity to this instance simply because it happened to be February 14th.

You also couldn't help but wonder why Dean wasn't planning on going out. You couldn't remember the last time he neglected to celebrate 'Unattached Drifter Christmas' as he'd always called it. In fact, Dean hadn't been out to pick up a girl in weeks...you were struggling to recall the last time Dean didn't decline a girl's invitation to come home with her.

"I've brought sustenance!" The man in question spoke from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts.

"Jesus!" you yelped.

Dean chuckled lightly. "Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to scare you."

You shot him a look that clearly said 'I wasn't scared', which only caused him to laugh harder.

You tossed a piece of popcorn at him and headed towards the door. "I'm gonna change into comfy clothes before we get started."

"Good idea," he agreed, placing the pizza down on the table before following you out the door.

Five minutes later, you came back into the Dean Cave wearing your most comfortable leggings and an oversized worn out band tee you'd had for at least a decade. You'd opted to forgo a bra for comfort's sake and you hoped Dean wouldn't notice.

Dean was already sitting on the couch, wearing his gray sweatpants and a plain black tee. It was almost offensive how hot he looked in that outfit--no man had any right to look that good in sweatpants.

When you walked in, Dean's gaze traveled from the TV to you. You noticed his pupils dilate slightly as he looked at you, but you figured that was due to the change in light.

You plopped down on the couch beside him, leaving plenty of space between the two of you to avoid any awkwardness. "Ready to be terrified?" you teased.

Dean groaned softly. "You know I'm only watching these because you love them."

You grinned and snagged the remote from him. "They're so good!"

"Our life is a scary movie," he grumbled. "I don't know why you like these."

"I think that's actually why I like them. Our real lives are full of the kind of shit that would make people lose their minds, but for us, it's just another Tuesday. These movies are either cheesy as hell or have an exaggerated version of a monster we have hunted and killed--so it becomes entertaining instead of scary."

Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Or you're crazy."

You smiled at him and shot him a wink. "That's just an added bonus."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a slice of pizza. As he shoveled food into his mouth, you opened up a streaming service and typed in the name of the first movie you wanted to watch.

"You remember The Conjuring right? And Annabelle?"

"Yeah," he answered. "That Annabelle one was creepy as hell."

You grinned. "Well this one is in the same universe and I've been dying to watch it."

You pressed play on the remote and the opening credits of The Nun began to play. You snuggled up under the blanket and sighed contentedly, a piece of pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

Dean glanced at you and couldn't help the soft smile that graced his lips. It was rare he got to see you truly happy and content, so this was a moment he intended to fully savor. He studied your face, desperate to commit it to memory, unwilling to forget how beautiful you looked in this moment.

He sighed softly and closed his eyes, still picturing your face clearly in his mind. It brought another smile to his lips and he breathed in deeply, smelling a mixture of your shampoo and your perfume. He wanted you to be closer to him, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

He made a split second decision and voiced his request aloud, "It's a little chilly in here. Do you mind sharing the blanket with me?" He wasn't cold at all, but he thought it might get you to move closer to him to share.

"Oh! Sure." You smiled and scooted in his direction, holding the edge of the blanket out to him.

He took it and started to cover himself. "You're gonna need to come a little closer, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle. "I need a bit more coverage."

You laughed and moved even closer to him so your arms were now touching. "Better?" you teased.

"Much," he affirmed.

You tried to keep your body relaxed and focused on the movie, but Dean's proximity was overwhelming your senses. You could smell his aftershave, feel his body heat, and see the rise and fall of his chest much more clearly than before. The simple act of a man breathing should not be a turn on...yet here you were.

You shifted slightly as you felt a familiar wave of heat pool in your belly. Not now, you thought to yourself.

"You okay, doll?" Dean asked softly.

His voice sounded lower than before, huskier even, and you had to bite your lip to keep from audibly moaning. As it was, you could feel the slick gathering between your legs, which was mortifying enough.

"I'm fine," you lied, shifting again.

Dean wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. "Come 'ere," he muttered. "Get comfortable."

You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you allowed him to pull you closer. You laid your head against his chest and sighed quietly. You had to admit, it was a much more comfortable position to be in, even if it increased your longing.

"Better?" he whispered, echoing your earlier question.

"Yeah," you mumbled.

Dean smiled down at you even though you couldn't see it. He liked this new position--he liked holding you. He knew he was crossing boundaries he'd never intended to cross, but his feelings had become unbearable as of late.

He couldn't remember a moment when he didn't want you and it was getting harder to remember a time when he didn't love you. The last couple months had been hell on his heart and he was starting to break. He hid it from everyone, especially you, but he knew he couldn't do that for much longer.

His random hookups had stopped alleviating his desire to be with you, instead increasing that need tenfold after every encounter. So he stopped hooking up with women altogether. He'd considered moving out of the bunker for a while to get away, but he couldn't do that to Sam or to you.

He found himself in a predicament he'd been trying to avoid for years and the walls he'd built around his heart had started to crumble. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you safe--he'd rip out his own still-beating heart if he had to--but he couldn't find the strength to stop loving you. No matter what he did, his love only grew.

It wasn't fair to you and he knew he shouldn't love you, shouldn't tell you, shouldn't pull you into something with him that would almost certainly get you killed, but his own pain was becoming too much. The physical ache in his chest when you were apart was beginning to impact every part of his life, including hunting. He'd be lying if he said it didn't terrify him, but he couldn't fight his feelings any longer.

"(Y/N)?" Dean asked softly.

"Hmm?" you hummed, eyes still trained on the TV.

"Can you look at me, sweetheart?" he murmured.

You shifted your head to look up at him. You were struck by how brilliantly green his irises looked in the dimly lit room, your lips parting slightly in surprise.

Dean's heart was hammering in his chest so quickly he was certain you could hear it. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, he was immediately lost in them--adrift in an ocean of (y/e/c).

He knew this was it--it was now or never...he could either take the leap or let his pain drown him in loneliness. He chose the former. He lowered his head the short distance to place a soft, warm kiss against your lips.

The moment you felt his lips on yours, it was like the world stopped spinning. Suddenly there was nothing but you and Dean--nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. Just you and Dean.

When your lips began to move against his, returning his kiss, he groaned happily. His hands grabbed at your torso, seeking comfort in your soft flesh. He tugged you towards him, and you shifted your body to straddle his lap, lips never leaving his.

In your new position, you could feel his hardening member pressing against your clothed core. You ground against him, earning a moan from deep in his throat. His hands tightened their grip on your hips and your nails dug into his shoulders as the sensation sent a bolt of electricity through you.

Dean's hands snaked under your shirt and he began tugging it upwards in an attempt to remove it. The logical part of your brain suddenly kicked back on and you grabbed his hand to stop him.

"Dean--wait," you gasped, pulling away from him slightly.

His eyes widened and his body tensed. He quickly removed his hands from your body and held them up in surrender. "I'm sorry, we can stop. I--"

You shook your head. "I just need...I need to say something." You bit your lip. "I don't wanna be a one night stand or a friends with benefits thing. I-I can't, Dean. I can't."

The pain in your voice nearly broke his heart. He wanted to reassure you, but he wasn't sure you would believe him. He had a reputation and it was Valentine's Day...what were the odds you'd believe him?

"(Y/N), listen to me," he said gently, taking your hands in his. "I would never ever make you to do something you didn't want to do...and I would never purposefully hurt you. I need you to know that. Do you know that, (Y/N/N)?"

"Yes," you whispered, nodding slowly.

"Good...because I mean it. I can't do any more one night stands or casual hookups or friends with benefits situations. I can't handle any of those things anymore than I can pretend I don't need you. And I do need you, (Y/N/N). I need you in every way a person can possibly need another...mentally, emotionally, physically--all of it. You're the best part of my fucked up life and I don't want to lose you."

It was rare to see Dean so open and vulnerable. This was one of the very few times you'd been witness to it, but this was, by far, the most emotional moment you'd ever shared with him. You wanted to respond, to say all the things you'd carried in your heart for years, but you couldn't think of a single word to say.

Your silence dragged on long enough that Dean began to worry he'd crossed a line he shouldn't have...a line he couldn't uncross. "Please, (Y/N)," he begged. "Say something."

"I'm sorry," you said quickly, realizing you'd been silent too long. Dean's face fell and you knew he believed you were about to reject him. You placed your hands against his chest in a calming manner, desperate to infuse your love in the touch.

"You're not going to lose me, Dean," you assured him. "I'm not going anywhere...my place is here, with you. This is where I belong--where I want to be. Wherever you are is home to me."

He didn't need grand gestures or romantic poetry. He didn't need some eloquent speech about how much you loved him. All he needed was to hear your sweet voice saying he was your 'home' and he was a goner.

When his lips met yours for the second time, everything felt different. It was as if all the moments of his life before this were in black and white and he was seeing in color for the first time. He felt alive in a way he'd forgotten--whole, in a way he'd never experienced.

He'd had very few positive relationships in his past and most of them ended bloody. He'd thought he'd been in love before, but those feelings paled in comparison to the way he felt about you. This was love, a love so real--so lasting--it was branded into his very soul.

His fingers gripped the edge of your shirt again and this time, you allowed him to remove it. "Fuck," he groaned, hungry eyes trained on your naked chest. "No bra?"

"I wanted to be comfortable."

His large, calloused hands gripped your heavy breasts and he gently kneaded the supple flesh. "I want my girl to be comfortable all the time," he murmured. "So I think we should burn all your bras."

Your soft chuckle morphed into a moan as his lips found one of your nipples. You rolled your hips against him, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Dean wanted to take his time with you and he was thoroughly enjoying his current activities, but it seemed you had other plans in mind.

"Dean," you whined. "Need you."

He gave your nipple one last gentle lick before lifting his head. "I'm right here, baby."

You rolled your hips against his throbbing cock and he groaned. Clearly you wanted more and he was in no position to deny you anything.

He gripped you tightly and stood up. You yelped in surprise and wrapped your legs around his waist. He turned around so your back was to the couch and he slowly lowered you down, placing you on the couch in front of him. He kneeled down and looked up at you, eyes dark with desire.

His hands slid slowly up your thighs, coming to a stop at the hem of your pants. "Can I take these off?"

You nodded rapidly.

He smirked and began to peel your leggings down at a painfully slow pace. You whined in annoyance, but Dean simply smiled. "Patience, sweetheart."

Finally, your pants, and subsequently your underwear, were tossed onto the floor, leaving you completely bare before him. There was a small part of you that felt self-conscious being naked in front of Dean. It was always uncomfortable for you the first time you found yourself in this position with a new man, but Dean was different. You weren't sure if it was the hunger in his gaze, the affection he clearly had for you, or the love you felt for him...you felt safe, you felt comfortable, and you felt loved. That was all that mattered.

Dean licked his lips in anticipation as he slowly spread your legs, revealing your soaking wet pussy to him. He groaned softly, spreading your legs wider to get an even better view.

"Now that's the prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he murmured. He slid a finger between your folds to collect some of your juices before bringing the finger to his mouth. He sucked it clean with a moan of enjoyment. "Delicious."

Before you had time to react, Dean had grabbed your hips and dragged you forward so you were closer to the edge of the couch. His mouth was on you in an instant, feasting on you like he might never eat again.

Your head fell back against the cushion and soft moans began to stream from your lips. Your legs rested on his shoulders and your hand gripped his hair tightly. Salacious sounds filled the room and you were glad Sam was gone for the night. You had a feeling it was only going to get louder.

Dean's experience in the bedroom was very evident as he ate you out. He was extremely skilled, but more importantly he paid attention to you. He was desperate to learn exactly what drove you wild and he wouldn't stop until he'd mapped out all of your pleasure points.

"Dean," you gasped softly, grip on his hair tightening.

He knew you were close, the way your legs began to tremble and your grip on his hair indicating your impending orgasm like a flashing neon sign.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place so you couldn't squirm away. With expert precision, Dean spelled his own full name against your clit with his tongue, sending you into a spiral of moaning, shaking bliss.

Dean continued to lap up your juices as you came down, and to your surprise, he didn't stop, even as you began to tug on his hair in earnest. "Please, Dean! Too much," you pleaded.

Dean sucked your little bundle of nerves into his mouth and slipped two fingers inside of you. He quickly found your sweet spot and began to drag his fingers along it repeatedly. The shock waves of pleasure had you changing your pleas to moans in seconds.

Your pussy gripped his fingers like iron and he couldn't wait to feel you grip his cock in the same fashion. He hadn't even been inside you yet and he already knew he would never want another woman's body the way he wanted yours.

"Dean!" you cried out, thick thighs squeezing his head, hips gyrating against his mouth as you came once again.

He lapped up everything you had to give him hungrily--wishing he could stay between your legs forever. This time, however, he allowed you to pull him up by his hair.

You were completely breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly. Dean licked his lips and wondered how sexy you'd look riding him, breasts bouncing as he slammed up into you.

"I think," you mumbled, "you have...too much...clothing on."

He laughed at your breathless remark. He had to agree with your sentiment, so he stood up and removed his shirt quickly. When he stood, you were rewarded with a nice view of his erection pressing against the confines of his sweats.

He smiled at you and slowly lowered his pants, revealing his very large member. The tip was red and throbbing, precum leaking from the slit. You licked your lips and eyed him hungrily, wanting to wrap your lips around it with a desperation that surprised you.

"Sit," you begged.

Dean smirked and obliged, sitting down beside you. You slid off the couch and crawled the short distance to settle between his legs.

Your soft hands wrapped around his cock and he groaned softly. "You're so big," you whispered.

"Your hands are small," he teased.

"But my mouth isn't."

Dean didn't have the time to process your sassy comment before your mouth wrapped around him and you began to suck his cock in earnest.

"Holy fuck-" he groaned, head falling back against the cushion.

He tangled his hand in your hair and gently guided your head as you began to take his cock deeper into your throat. You flexed the back of your tongue as you did so and he groaned loudly.

Having gotten the reaction you'd desired, you did the same move a couple more times, allowing his cock to almost leave your mouth before sucking him deep into your throat.

His grip on your hair tightened and his hips thrust forward, causing you to gag slightly. Instead of trying to lift off him, you breathed deeply through your nose and held steady, relaxing your throat as best as you could.

"Baby, you're doing so good for me," Dean murmured. "Making me feel amazing."

You moaned around his cock and reached between his legs to cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze. His hips bucked slightly at the action, causing you to smirk.

You continued to suck his cock until he tugged your hair a little more harshly. "You gotta stop, doll, or I'm gonna cum."

You hummed in disappointment, but allowed him to pull you off his cock with a soft popping sound. He looked down at you with lust filled eyes and beckoned you towards him.

"Come up here, baby. I wanna touch you," he begged.

You climbed onto the couch with him, straddling his legs once again. You lowered yourself slowly, rubbing his cock against your wet core. You leaned forward to kiss him and repeated the action. He moaned against your lips before pressing his tongue against them, demanding entry.

You parted your lips and kissed him deeply, allowing his tongue to assert dominance. The kiss was passionate and loving, but the fire that burned inside of both of you in that moment only cared about pleasure.

"I need to be inside you," Dean whispered against your lips.

"Please," you begged him, rutting against him once more.

He gripped his cock tightly and lined himself up with your entrance. Once the tip pressed against your tight opening, he released his grip, hands settling on your hips to help guide you down.

You moaned softly as you continued to lower yourself onto his cock--the stretch both painful and enjoyable all at once. He was larger than you were accustomed to, both in girth and in length, and it almost felt as if you were a virgin all over again.

You had to lean forward, pressing your body against his for support as you lowered yourself down completely. You'd never felt so full, your toes curled at the mere feeling.

"You okay, baby?" Dean murmured, hands gently rubbing soothing circles into your back as he allowed you time to adjust.

"Never better," you whispered in reply.

You pulled yourself up into a proper sitting position and gasped as he somehow sank even deeper into you.

Dean worried he'd hurt you until he saw the look in your eye. His concern quickly turned to a smirk of pride. He pressed his hand against your lower abdomen and growled, "You feel that, baby? I'm so deep inside you, you'll be feeling me for days."

You moaned softly, his words having the desired effect on you. You rolled your hips a little and he hissed softly.

"Fuck, doll."

He gripped your hips as you started to move, bouncing up and down on his cock slowly.

His lips attached themselves to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone--anywhere he could reach. He was reveling in the feeling of your soft body against his muscular one, your curves providing him with plenty of flesh to hold on to.

"You feel so good, baby," he moaned in your ear. "Pussy squeezing me so tight--can hardly breathe."

"Feels good, Dean," you whimper.

"Yeah, baby? You like the way my cock feels in your pretty little pussy? Stretching you just right--you were made for me."

You preened at the praise, which only made him want to praise you more.

"This perfect body of yours makes me feel so good, sweetheart. You take my cock so well. Wanna stay here forever just making you feel good--listening to those sweet sounds you make. Fuck, never wanna stop."

You loved his praise, but your thighs were starting to get tired from the exertion. Dean could feel you slowing down, so he pulled you forward, pressing your chest flush against his.

"I've got you, baby. Let me take over," he whispered.

You gripped his shoulders and nodded, more than willing to allow him to take control.

As soon as he felt your body relax against him, he planted his feet firmly on the floor and began to piston up into you. He held you tightly against him to prevent you from moving too much.

"Dean!" you cried, nails digging into his shoulders.

His cock pressed into your g-spot with each thrust and in a matter of moments, you were teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

"Can feel you squeezing me, baby. You gonna cum for me? Huh?" Dean asked huskily. "You gonna coat my cock with your sweet cum, baby? Cum for me, sweet girl. Wanna feel it."

You loved the way he begged and it had you coming undone in an instant. You screamed his name as your walls fluttered around his cock. It took all of his focus not to cum along with you.

"That's my good girl," he whispered. "I'm gonna cum soon, doll. Where you want it?"

"Inside me," you begged. "Please, Dean--fill me up."

"Oh, fuck-" Dean moaned loudly as he came, coating your walls with his seed.

After a few more thrusts, Dean stilled. He continued to hold you tightly against him, needing to feel you close to him as he came down from his high.

He rubbed your back soothingly and placed a soft kiss to your damp hairline. "You were so good for me, (Y/N/N)."

You kissed his shoulder. "Felt so good, Dean."

He smiled and squeezed you tighter. He sighed contentedly, enjoying the feeling of the woman he loved pressed against his chest.

His cock had begun to soften and his cum was leaking out of you and onto his thighs, but he couldn't be bothered. Taking care of you was his one and only priority.

"Do you need some water, sweetheart?" he asked softly.

You shook your head.

"Food?"

You shook your head again.

"Tell me what you need, baby," he begged.

You finally lifted your head to look him in his eyes. "I know it's cliché to say I love you after sex, but I don't care. I love you, Dean...I love you wholly and completely."

Dean nearly breathed a sigh of relief at your admission. "I can't even begin to express how happy it makes me to hear you say those words. I've been pushing the feeling down for years, but I can't do it anymore, (Y/N). I love you with everything I have--it might not be much, but it's yours. You have me forever--mind, body, and soul."

You smiled and gently caressed his cheek. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. You kissed him softly, which he immediately returned in kind.

When you separated, you noticed a mischievous glint in his bright green eyes. "Dean?"

"What are your thoughts about round two in my bedroom?"

You laughed lightly. "Are you gonna kick me out of your bed at 2am?"

"Not if you don't snore," he teased.

You smacked his shoulder affectionately and he laughed. "You're lucky you're so damn cute."

He grinned. "Actually, I'm adorable."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You know, I think I like the idea of round two."

Dean smiled and pulled you even closer. "Hold onto me, sweetheart."

You gripped him tightly and he stood up, holding you to his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he headed towards his bedroom.

When he entered his room, he gently tossed you onto the bed, earning a soft giggle from your lips. He climbed on top of you, pressing sweet kisses to your skin for several moments before finally kissing your soft lips.

"I'm glad you skipped 'Unattached Drifter Christmas' this year," you murmured.

He smiled. "Me too, baby. I think it's more 'Attached Drifter Christmas' now."

You laughed. "I love you, you dork."

He kissed you again. "Not as much as I love you."

The two of you spent the next couple hours continuing to explore each other's bodies, experiencing blinding pleasure over and over again.

Nothing could ever compare to the love you felt for each other, and in spite of everything, you both fell asleep in the comfort of each other's arms, dreaming of the beautiful future ahead.

#supernatural #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x plus size!reader smut #dean winchester x plus size reader #supernatural smut

[mylight-png]

I refuse to be told to "move on" from October 7th. I simply refuse.

You know the thing about trauma? You don't really get the choice to move on. You may be living in the future, but at least a part of your mind is trapped in that horrible moment. Sometimes that part of you can never escape.

Right now, as I'm writing this, I am sitting at my desk in my room. But right now, as I am writing this a part, huge part, of me is still in that airport. That part of me is still staring at my phone, trying to catch its breath but failing. That part of me is still watching in shock as the death count rises, the videos of Hamas's atrocities are broadcasted everywhere I see, the celebration of my people being massacred is burning my eyes. My ears are hearing the wailing sirens from when I was last in Israel. My hands are still feeling the shaking of the walls as the Iron Dome intercepts attempts upon the lives of my family and me. My heart is hurting for each life lost and each family left broken.

My body is here, in January 10th. My mind is not. My mind, and the mind of nearly every Jew is still stuck in October 7th.

Do not think we chose this. If I could choose indifference, if I could choose apathy, if I could choose ignorance, I wouldn't feel so constantly triggered and in pain.

But nobody gets to choose trauma.

This wasn't a unique trauma, a first-time event. Pogroms are nothing new to us, genocides and attempts at such against us aren't anything new, hateful libel and lies are near-constants.

That's part of what made October 7th so much worse.

I grew up hearing about how my great-grandfather lost his entire family to the Holocaust, how my ancestors survived pogroms, how my parents faced systemic antisemitism in the USSR.

We all grew up hearing our parents and grandparents tell us about antisemitism.

And do not think we were ignorant of it. I was well aware that the world is not even close to shedding its deeply ingrained antisemitism.

I was aware of it when I wrote a speech about discussion of modern antisemitism and being told it was "well-written but controversial". I was aware of it when my teacher said I was responding "emotionally, not academically" to an author claiming antisemitism and the Holocaust weren't "that bad".

I was aware of it when a synagogue near me got shot up, a synagogue I've been to. I was aware of it because I had no other choice.

But it had always felt like it was "winding down" from what my parents had told me. Yes what my teacher did was bad but at least he didn't explicitly single me out for being a Jew and intentionally fail me. Yes the feedback for my speech was hurtful but it wasn't like I was being violently censored. Yes the shooting was awful but it wasn't a full-blown pogrom.

I'm not saying my logic was correct. Far from it. But that's how it felt before October 7th.

When October 7th happened I saw that nothing was "winding down" as I had previously thought. People were still just as keen to gleefully cheer on the killing of Jews as they had been. The world is just as slow to act when Jews are being forcibly held and tortured and killed. Blood libel and ideas of the "doctor's plot" are alive and well.

Oct 7th triggered old trauma, Oct 7th was traumatic in its own right, and for most of us, Oct 7th proved that antisemitism isn't going anywhere. It isn't winding down or getting better.

And that kind of pain? That kind of trauma? That sticks with you.

You wouldn't tell any other person to get over their trauma. So what makes it ok to say it to traumatized Jews as we are still processing the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust?

That behavior is horrible and inexcusable.

Trauma is trauma, you don't get to decide who does or doesn't have the right to be traumatized. You don't get to decide how people discuss their trauma.

#jumblr #jewish #judaism #jew #proud israeli #israel solidarity #opinion #discourse #antisemitism #trauma #generational trauma

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 22

part 1 | part 21 | ao3

“…Go ahead,” he relents with a heavy sigh.

He turns the radio back on for background noise, and Robin launches herself into a breathless recap of every minute detail she’s ever learned about Eddie Munson. Genuinely impressive how quickly the words come out; Steve thinks that if her dream of becoming a linguistics researcher ever falls through, she’s got a bright future ahead of her as one of those speedreaders who rattle off the fine print at the end of pharmaceutical ads.

Warning: Discussion of Eddie Munson may cause nausea, heartburn, palpitations, sweaty armpits, and an inconveniently timed half-chub any time you use a pocket knife. Talk to your doctor to see if Discussion of Eddie Munson is right for you!

“Which brings us to tonight,” she’s saying when he zones back in. “Let’s examine the facts, shall we?”

“Must we?”

“Yes, we must.”

She makes a loose fist, lifting her pointer finger with an aggressive flourish to kick off her ‘list of reasons Eddie has a big, fat crush on you.’ “Fact number one: he was conveniently wearing a super nice outfit.”

“He said he ran out of laundry.”

“And we’re buying that?” she scoffs. Her middle finger springs up to join the first one. “Two: he was so disgustingly up in your personal space. Like, you really should have seen it; it was—”

Mwah. Mwah mwah mwah. “Yeah, I don’t need another demonstration.”

“Three” —there goes her ring finger— “he came to a movie rental store that you just so happen to work at and then left without renting a movie.”

“Because you did something to spook him!”

“Which brings me to my fourth and final point.” Her pinky lifts up to join the team, fingers spread wide like a paper fan, and she telescopes her arm to shove them back and forth under his nose until he goes a little cross-eyed and bitches about her distracting the driver.

“Cut it out! You want me to drive us into someone’s trash cans?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, well I’m sending you the invoice when it scratches up the paint.”

She retreats to her side of the car, curling her back against the door and repeating, “My fourth and final point: I think he thinks we’re dating.”

“And? Everyone thinks we’re dating.”

“No, everyone wants us to be secretly dating,” she corrects. “But I’m pretty sure Eddie actually thinks I’m your girlfriend. You remember last week when you dropped me off at school?”

He does. Eddie had actually been there early for once; had been sitting on a bench out by the soccer fields, looking surly and half-asleep while he sucked down a cigarette. Hair all messed up by the wind. Looked kind of dangerous. Wild.

“He was, like, fully glaring at me when I walked into school that morning, and then he was super rude to me in band. Which, at the time, I was like, ‘oh, well I guess that’s just Eddie no one can ever tell what his mood’s gonna be like from day to day,’ but noo-o-ow…”

She starts squirming in her seat again, excitement overflowing as she finally cracks the case. “Now it all makes sense! Oh, my god! He totally hates me because he thinks we’re dating, and I’ll bet you anything he either didn’t know we work together or didn’t expect me to be there tonight and he totally, one hundred percent was there to flirt with you because he’s in lo—”

“Okay, Detective,” he cuts her off, because the tips of his ears are burning, and he doesn’t think he can handle her saying the L word out loud right now. “You’ve made your point, thank you.”

“Tell me I’m right.”

“Uh, no.”

“Come on.” She jabs at his side. “Tell me I’m right tell me I’m right tell me I’m—”

“—A fucking menace? Gladly.”

“Translation: I’m right and you’re mad about it,” she smirks, victorious.

Steve knocks his forehead against the wheel as he pulls up to her curb. “Why do I drive you places?”

“Because you love me." She flips her visor down to freshen up her lip balm, mumbling around the chapstick, "I’m adding Surly Best Friendlish to my list of fluencies; I think it'll really make my college applications pop."

"Yuh huh," Steve grumbles. The thought of Robin leaving for college always sits in his gut like raw bread dough — thick and heavy and gross, rising to form a swollen lump in his throat. "Didn't you already submit all of those?"

"Yes, I diiiid," she sings, shimmying her shoulders with pride. "Duke's gonna say yes, I just know it. Picture it with me: Robin L. Buckley," she gestures to an imagined marquee somewhere just beyond the windshield, "class of 1990."

Steve swallows the urge to be a sulky dick about it. "They'd be lucky to have you," he says quietly.

"Nope. No no, none of that. No moping." She tugs at his arm; links their elbows together. "You're not allowed to mope when we have a party to get ready for."

"No, you have a party to get ready for. I'm going home."

"Steeeve-uh!" Holy shit. He just had to be soulmates with the whiniest lesbian in a 500 mile radius, didn't he? "Come to the bonfire party with me!"

"Yeah, that's a no."

“It’ll be fun!"

It most certainly will not be. "You really want me to go freeze my ass off in the woods all night while a bunch of former classmates talk shit about me the second they think I'm out of earshot?" He's been to enough of his parents' 'networking events' over the years to know exactly how that'll go. A full night of subtly closed-off body language, smirking whispers and judgmental glances that dart away as soon as he meets them head on. Fuck that. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

He just wants to go home. Feels momentarily sick with the desire to drive himself to Loch Nora.

"What did I say about moping?" Robin asks. She shoves into his space, hugging his arm tighter and deploying her most lethal sad wet kitten face (and Steve doesn't even like cats; this shouldn't fucking work on him.) "Pleeeease," she begs. "Vickie's going to be there, and I could really use a friend."

"So ask a friend!"

"I am, dipshit!"

Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Goddamn this woman. Steve hangs his chin to his chest in defeat, notices the weird stain he got on his shirt during work. "I have some conditions," he concedes.

She throws her arms out wide. "Condition me, baby!"

"First— ew. Okay, I don't like that; don't call me baby." Yeesh, and furthermore, yuck. "First, I'm borrowing one of your shirts, and you're probably never getting it back."

"Understandable,” she nods as she gets out of the car. Steve follows her out, propping his elbows on the roof.

"Secondly,” he continues, “I'm getting very drunk at this stupid party, and you're figuring out how we get home."

She reaches out over the top of the car; gives his hand a quick squeeze when he puts it in hers. "That's three things," she says fondly, "but I can work with that."

—

part 23

tag list part 1 below the cut; comment if you'd like to be added tomorrow (not tagging ageless or under 21s unless we're mutuals or you let me know your age ✌️)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @questionablequeeries @runninriot @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutabed @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #my writing #my fic

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part Seven: The Hotel Encounter

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Wednesday came around quicker than you thought, eight o'clock rolled around, and you found yourself standing outside the Westin Hotel lobby like a lost puppy. The hotel's grandeur and sophistication overwhelmed you, and you couldn't help but compare its opulence to the dimly lit jazz club where you first laid eyes on Cillian.

You squared your shoulders, trying to summon some confidence. Taking a deep breath, you crossed the threshold into the marble-floored lobby. The scent of expensive perfume and designer cologne hung heavily in the air, and you could hear soft classical music playing somewhere in the background.

The sound of hushed conversations and the occasional click of heels on marble floors filled the space. You scanned the crowd, searching for Cillian. When you caught sight of him, your heart skipped a beat.

"Hey," Cillian greeted, his voice low and smooth, sending shivers down your spine. "You made it," he added, gesturing towards a secluded table tucked away in the corner. "Shall we sit?" he asked, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

The familiar warmth spread through your chest, and your palms grew slick with perspiration. Leading you to the table, Cillian pulled out a chair for you. Once seated, you could feel his gaze boring into you, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Your heart thumped erratically, and your mind raced with a jumble of memories and desires. .

"So," you said, shifting in your seat after sitting down at the quiet table in the corner, "How is Max doing? He is back at home now, isn't he?"

Cillian's eyes held a faraway look, his lips quirking upward ever so slightly. "He is and he is doing well, considering the circumstances," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "He has lost his license, and his car insurance won't cover the damages to the car, but he's alive, thank God."

"I know. I am glad," you spoke nervously before you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable question.

"So, what did you want to discuss with me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady and, immediately, guilt began to form in Cillian's mind. 

"To tell you the truth, I don't really know. After seeing you again at the hospital, I..." Cillian began to trail off, stammering nervously. "I just wanted to see you," Cillian confessed, his voice barely audible. "So that I could apologize and explain myself, to tell you that what happened between us was...," he added before trailing off again. 

He looked down for a moment and then continued, his voice wavering slightly. "I really fucked up Y/N, but I cannot stop thinking about you," he told you before he wiped his brow with his sleeve, looking genuinely concerned. "I know that what happened between us was a mistake. It was fucking wrong because I cheated on my wife with you, but I just can't seem to shake you off my mind," Cillian admitted, his gaze locked on you, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Cillian, I--" you started, your voice catching in your throat. "We both know it was wrong," you managed to say, your heart pounding hard enough to rattle your ribcage. "And I don't know what to say other than that I am sorry for putting you into this situation. I should not have pursued you," you added, wringing your hands nervously, thinking about the fact that he was married and that you used to date his son. This was all so complicated, so messed up, and whilst you craved him, you knew that this wouldn't lead to anything prosperous. 

"Y/N, you didn't put me into this situation," Cillian countered, taking a deep breath. "I did this myself and, if I remember correctly, I was the one who pursued you, not the other way around," he confessed before he darted his eyes downwards for a brief moment, looking ashamed. "I should not have done it," he mumbled, shaking his head, "but I cannot help but wonder what it would be like if we got to spend some more time together," he then gazed at you intently, his expression serious and determined.

"Cillian," you whispered, shaking your head. "This is insane," you told him before you tried to stand up from your seat only to be halted by Cillian laying his arm across the back of your chair.

"Please, just listen to me," he implored you, his voice hoarse and strained from desperation. "I realize that we shouldn't be having this conversation, but I simply cannot help it. Every time I think about you, I want more. It's like a fucking addiction," Cillian confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We can't do this," you reminded him, averting your gaze, afraid of the depths of desire reflected in his eyes. "You're married," you pointed out bluntly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "And I dated your son," you added, the guilt gnawing at your gut.

"I know," Cillian groaned, his frustration evident in each tortured syllable. "But tell me that you don't want this too," he urged, causing you to pause, your heart racing madly in your chest.

Torn between reason and desire, you studied Cillian's handsome face, tracing the lines of his chiseled features with your gaze. His eyes were pleading, beseeching you to give in to the forbidden attraction that simmered between you just as the waiter came by, finally wanting to take your order.

"What can I get you?" the young man asked, flashing a dazzling smile at you both. You and Cillian exchanged awkward glances before you quickly looked away, focusing on the menu instead.

"A bottle of Bordeaux, but can we have it brought up to the room please?" you nervously said to the waiter before Cillian could respond to his question and your request left him baffled. 

"Of course. What is your room number, ma'am," the waiter asked politely, glancing between you and Cillian curiously.

 "It's 309," Cillian answered, his voice low and gruff as you stood up and reached for your bag with fidgeting hands. 

"What are you doing?" Cillian asked, his voice husky as he watched you stand up.

"Going to your room," you answered him matter-of-factly. You felt nervous, the excitement coursing through your veins like a drug.  "Isn't that what you wanted?" you whispered, turning to face Cillian. The air between you vibrated with pent-up energy, like a storm brewing under the calm surface of a lake. You could practically feel the electric charge between you, and it pushed you forward. 

Cillian nodded nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat like a tiny pulse. "Yes," he whispered, and you couldn't help but blush. 

"Good, then lets go before my conscience kicks in and guilt gets the better of me," you mumbled before Cillian stood up as well and followed you toward the elevators.

Once the elevator doors closed, Cillian let out a sigh of relief, and you pressed the button for the third floor.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face.

His touch was warm and gentle, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. 

You searched his gaze, finding comfort in the vulnerability etched into his expressive eyes. "Yes," you replied, your voice soft and certain, before you allowed your fingertips to graze his cheek affectionately.

"I am sure about this," you assured him, your eyes never straying from his mesmerizing gaze before, eventually, the elevator doors slid open with a soft whir, and you stepped out onto the third floor with Cillian hot on your heels.

You adjusted your dress nervously, smoothing down the fabric and glancing around the hall, making sure no one was watching you two. The dim lighting masked your expressions as you moved towards the indicated room number, your heart beating like a war drum in your chest.

Cillian pulled his key card from his jeans pocket, swiping it along the slot and hearing the soft mechanical click signaling the door had unlocked. He turned the handle delicately, leading you both inside the darkened room.

"Let me turn on the lights," he suggested, fumbling around the wall switch before the soft glow flooded the room, bathing you both in a comforting warmth.

Your nerves skyrocketed as you saw the plush king-sized bed situated right in front of you, and your heart fluttered in anticipation.

Cillian guided you gently towards the center of the room, his grip tightening around your hand subtly as if urging you closer. Your skin prickled from the tension between you both, creating a magnetic pull that neither of you could ignore. You peered up at him, finding solace in his blue eyes which mirrored the uncertainty that danced within your own and, not long after that, your lips finally collided. 

The kiss was passionate yet gentle, a dance of tongues and teeth, your bodies pressing closer and closer, almost losing balance.

Despite the lingering guilt clouding your mind, the thrill of his presence ignited a fire within you—a flame that refused to be extinguished.

Cillian's hands roamed over your body, exploring curves and valleys, moving to unbutton your dress with trembling fingers. You could sense the urgency in his movements, the raw desire simmering just below the surface.

With trembling hands, Cillian untied the string holding your dress together, exposing your black lace bra and panties, leaving nothing to the imagination. Your breath hitched as you watched him gaze hungrily at your exposed flesh, his eyes dark with lust.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion before he pressed his lips against your neck, kissing and sucking gently, leaving red marks that stung pleasantly. You moaned softly, arching your back as his hands moved lower, cupping your ass and pulling you closer as, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Room Service," a male voice called out from beyond the entrance, causing Cillian to freeze mid-kiss.

"Ignore it," you muttered, clutching Cillian tightly, unwilling to break the spell that had enveloped you both.

"I can't," Cillian replied, releasing you gently before walking towards the door with his face covered in your lipstick. "It was you who ordered the wine," he then chuckled before he opened the door just a crack, whispering something quietly to the room service attendant waiting on the other side. There was a brief exchange of words before the sound of heavy footsteps fading away echoed through the room.

"Thank you," Cillian murmured, closing the door firmly behind him and placing the bottle of Bordeaux you had ordered minutes earlier on the desk besides the door.

He turned to face you, a crooked grin playing on his lips when he saw that you had taken off your bra and were waiting for him on top of the bed.

"Looks like I am not the only one in a hurry," he joked before pulling his t-shirt over his head, revealing his lean torso. His chest was covered in freckles and featured a small patch of chest-hair, both of which was something you considered particularly attractive. 

He then went to unbuckle his belt, slowly sliding his pants down, revealing his CK briefs, already straining against his growing erection.

"I can't wait to feel you inside me again," you whispered as desire pooled inside of you like molten lava threatening to erupt, consuming every rational thought.

Cillian smiled seductively, stepping out of his clothing completely, leaving him naked and gloriously erect before you.

You swallowed dryly, your mouth feeling parched as you admired his sculpted physique. He was perfection embodied, and your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you ran your eyes all over his gorgeous form.

"You are so hard already," you purred, reaching out to touch the throbbing bulge nestled snugly between his legs.

Cillian groaned, his breathing labored as he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from proceeding.

"Not yet," he growled, his voice laced with raw lust.

"I want to taste you first," he added, stepping closer to the bed with a predatory glint in his eye. "Making you cum with my mouth is what I have been dreaming about every fucking night," he then told you and you bit your lip, feeling an unfamiliar wave of excitement wash over you.

"Really?" you mused, your voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Because I was thinking that maybe it would be more fun if I get to taste you again first," you teased, a mischievous spark dancing in your eyes.

"Oh, I'm definitely going to enjoy that," Cillian groaned, his cock twitching eagerly in response as he prowled towards the bed like a predator zeroing in on its prey. "But ladies first," he asserted before pinning you down beneath him. "I want to hear you come undone," he asserted and you did not dare to argue. 

"Alright, if you insist," you moaned as Cillian skillfully removed your panties with a single tug, leaving you bare and vulnerable.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your inner thigh softly causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine. He traced kisses down your leg, slowly working his way towards your core.

"You smell so fucking good," he commented before he took a moment to appreciate your wetness visibly staining the sheets underneath you.

"You're soaked," he noted appreciatively, and your heart raced at the sheer pleasure he derived from your arousal.

Cillian kissed and caressed your inner thighs, his hot breath teasing your sensitive skin.

"Fuck," you whimpered, squirming beneath him as he lowered his head, his lips hovering inches above your quivering mound. You could feel his warm breath on your moist flesh, raising goosebumps on your skin.

Your breath quickened, a wave of anticipation washing over you like a tidal surge.

"Tell me how much you want it," he commanded, leaning forward, his eyes smoldering with passion.

"I want it so much!" you cried out, bucking your hips in anticipation. Cillian's eyes gleamed with triumph as he parted your folds gently, revealing your swollen clit, pulsating with need. He licked his lips, savoring the sweet aroma emanating from your sex.

"Please!" you then begged, your voice cracking with desperation. "Just touch me, taste me, make me cum!"

Cillian grinned wickedly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation before lowering his lips ever so slightly.

You moaned loudly, thrashing your head from side to side, desperate for release. Your pussy throbbed, yearning for attention, and you arched your back, offering up your slick slit to Cillian who, finally obliged. 

His tongue darted out, flicking your engorged nub lightly before diving in, delving deeper into your wet depths. You moaned loudly, grinding your hips into his face eagerly as he explored your folds with fervent abandon.

"Fuck yes," you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls of the luxurious bedroom. "That feels so good!" you moaned before running your hands through his hair. 

"So fucking good," you whispered, panting heavily as Cillian continued to lap at your slick folds with a feverish hunger. His tongue swirled around your clit, teasing you mercilessly before plunging back inside your dripping pussy. Your entire body convulsed with pleasure, and you bucked wildly beneath him, desperately seeking release.

"Oh god, I'm going to cum!" you screamed, your voice hoarse with ecstasy. Cillian's ears perked up at your cry, and he began to lick faster, harder, his tongue stabbing into your wet hole relentlessly.

You clawed at the sheets, screaming obscenities, begging for the pressure to continue.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes!" you hollered, as the waves of pleasure built inside you, threatening to break any second now.

Cillian latched onto your clit, sucking it hard between his lips, making you scream louder.

You grabbed fistfuls of the silken duvet, nails digging into the material as intense spasms rocked your core.

"Cillian, fuck!" you screamed, the words escaping in ragged gasps.

Cillian groaned, lapping up your juices greedily, reveling in your cries, his cock throbbing painfully against his briefs. He loved seeing you lose control, watching your body surrender to the overwhelming sensations sweeping through you as, finally, your orgasm hit you. 

You shook violently, clinging onto reality as everything around you faded, leaving only the sensation of euphoria, a blissful void that swept you higher and higher until you exploded.

Cillian released your clit, swallowing your juices with relish, enjoying the taste of your desire. He rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes burning with satisfaction.

"That was quick," he remarked, a smirk curling his lips. "I didn't expect you to cum so fast," he admitted and, seeing that you were much younger and inexperienced than him, this was a huge turn on for you both.

You exhaled sharply, still reeling from the explosive climax you had just experienced.

"Well, you clearly got some skills in that department, Mr Murphy," you teased, playfully running your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Cillian chuckled, his eyes shining with pride. "So I've been told," he mused, stroking your damp thigh tenderly before you pushed him beneath you as, slowly, but surely, you came down from your high. 

"I suppose it is my turn to pleasure you now sir," you declared, crawling towards him with a sultry smile on your face before reaching for the hem of his briefs. "And I want to suck you so good that you beg me for mercy," you whispered softly into his ear, your hot breath tickling his neck.

Cillian groaned, gripping the edge of the mattress as you slowly pulled down his underwear, revealing his impressive, fully erect length.

"Oh god Cills," you cooed, reaching out to stroke him gently. "You are so hard for me, and dripping already," you moaned with approval as Cillian's eyes widened with anticipation, his cock twitching eagerly in your grasp.

"Please," he whispered weakly, his voice cracking with desire. 

"Please what?" you asked coyly, stroking Cillian's cock gently with your thumb.

The head of his shaft was shiny with pre-cum, reflecting the light in the dimly lit room. "Tell me what you want, Cillian," you added, biting your lip suggestively.

Cillian swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. "I want you to take me into your mouth," he uttered, his voice breaking. "Please," he then begged again and you smiled, nodding your head slowly.

"I'm going to enjoy this," you said, licking your lips hungrily before leaning down to lick the pre-cum of his slit.

The taste of him made your head spin, and you moaned softly, slurping his tip gently. "God, you taste so good," you whispered, squeezing his balls gently, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Cillian before you used your mouth to fully engulf him. 

Swallowing him whole, you sucked him hard, moaning around his cock as you worked your tongue around his head, swirling it in circles.

"Oh fuck," Cillian groaned, thrusting upwards into your mouth, desperate for more.

Your mouth bobbed up and down, the saliva lubricating your movements and making sloppy sounds that filled the quiet room.

"Y/N," Cillian whimpered, grabbing at your hair, his fingers tangling in your locks. "Slow down," he pleaded, his voice strained and broken.

He reached for your hair, attempting to guide your rhythm. Yet, you remained stubborn, continuing to suck him hard, knowing full well that he would soon lose control. 

You heard him moan, felt his cock pulsing, and smelled the scent of his arousal, all signs that he was close to the edge.

"Y/N," Cillian gasped, his voice hoarse and desperate. "I'm close," he groaned, and you didn't answer him - you didn't even look up, instead choosing to increase the suction and speed, eager to drain him completely.

The sound of his cock pumping in and out of your mouth became deafening, like a heartbeat filling the room. He was close now, his cock swelling in your mouth, and he started to thrust into you harder until, abruptly, he stopped.

"Stop," he breathed out, sounding surprised and relieved. "I can't take anymore of this," he gasped after ten minutes of your onslaught before you reluctantly released him, licking your lips, tasting the saltiness of his precum mixed with your saliva.

"The first time I cum tonight needs to be inside you. I am begging you," he panted, pulling you closer, your breasts mashed against his chest. You could hear his heart pounding furiously in his chest, matching yours.

"You are begging me, huh?" you teased, nibbling on his earlobe softly. "I love it when you beg," you whispered, licking his neck sensually. "Especially coming from you, this is such a turn on," you told him just before Cillian groaned deeply, his muscles stiffening beneath you.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," he grunted, his erection throbbing against your belly. "But yes, I'm begging you, Y/N. Please, let me cum inside you," he rasped, his voice husky with longing.

"Why do you want to cum inside me?" you asked Cillian, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Because it is so fucking intimate," Cillian sighed, his voice rough and raw with desire. "Feeling you contract around me, as I spill myself deep inside you," he admitted, his tone earnest and sincere.

"Also, it is somewhat taboo," he whispered, his breath fanning across your neck as he held you tight. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to explode. "Which is exactly why I want it," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. 

"Me too," you agreed, your voice soft and sultry. "I want to feel you fill me up with your cum," you confessed, your words slipping past your lips like silk. "And then, when I go to my lectures tomorrow, I want to feel it leaking out of me little by little, reminding me of our encounter each time I walk," you teased, causing Cillian to groan loudly. 

"Don't say it like that or I won't last much longer," he chuckled, squeezing your hips tighter as you kissed him passionately while, at the same time, climbing atop of him and aligning his hardness with your wetness. 

"Okay, no talking then," you giggled, sitting on his lap and positioning yourself over his member. "Just moaning," you teased, taking a deep breath and lowering yourself on him inch by excruciating inch.

"Shit," Cillian gasped, throwing his head back and grabbing onto the pillows as you impaled yourself on his cock, feeling the head of his penis stretch you wide open before sliding inside, deeper and deeper.

"Oh god," you moaned, rocking your hips slowly as you sank down further, taking his entire length inside you.

"You feel so good," Cillian groaned, reaching up to massage your breasts gently, his thumbs circling your nipples. "So fucking tight," he added, his voice husky with lust as you started to ride him.

You both knew that you wouldn't last long; the atmosphere in the room was thick with anticipation, and your bodies ached for one another.

As you moved on top of him, your pelvis grinding against his, the friction was enough to send you both spiraling into oblivion.

"Harder," Cillian urged, reaching down to squeeze your ass cheeks, encouraging you to bounce on him.

You did as instructed, moving with reckless abandon, lost in the heat of the moment.

Each thrust sent shockwaves coursing through your body, intensifying the feelings building inside you. Cillian's hands gripped your hips tightly, urging you on, helping you reach new heights of pleasure.

"Fuck, you are so tight around my cock," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust as you rode him and those words struck a chord deep within you, setting your blood ablaze. You moaned loudly, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you moved on top of him with renewed vigor.

Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, and you bit your lip, trying to contain the screams building in your throat.

"So good," Cillian encouraged, his hands roaming all over your body, tracing patterns on your skin. "So fucking good," he groaned, his voice low and guttural.

You threw your head back, letting out a primal scream as you slammed yourself down on him, harder and faster than ever before until Cillian felt the need to slow things down.

Abruptly, he maneuvered you beneath him, taking control as he moved into a missionary position. 

With each deliberate entry, he gazed into your eyes, a mixture of lust and admiration evident in his expression. His gaze was steady, unwavering, like a man drowning in the ocean of your passion.

"How does it feel?" he asked "Does it feel good?" he questioned and you nodded, unable to speak.

The words caught in your throat, choking you in their intensity. 

You wanted to tell him how wonderful it felt, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, you simply nodded, eyes locked on his face.

Cillian watched you intently, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a sly grin. "Good," he said, his voice husky with lust. 

He slid his hands under your thighs, guiding them to rest on his shoulders. "Lift up," he instructed, his voice firm but gentle. You obeyed without hesitation, your heart pounding in your chest.

The room seemed to shrink around you, trapping your thoughts in a suffocating loop of lust and anticipation. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, and you couldn't help but let out a low moan of approval.

"Yes," Cillian hissed, his eyes locked on yours. "Like that."

He pumped into you steadily, his grip tightening around your hips. With each powerful thrust, he pushed himself deeper inside you, driving you closer to the brink.

"I'm close," you managed to utter through clenched teeth as he thrusted into you with slow but steady thrusts. 

Your body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

"I know," Cillian responded, his voice hushed yet intense. "Let go for me. Give in," he coaxed, his tone soothing yet commanding.

And with those words, the dam broke. Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, crashing into you with such force that it left you gasping for air. You cried out, your voice echoing in the silent room, as your body convulsed around Cillian's cock.

The intensity of your orgasm overwhelmed you, stealing your breath and clouding your vision.

"I'm going to cum," Cillian gasped, his voice strained and desperate. "Can you feel it?" he asked, his gaze never wavering from yours.

You nodded, biting your lip to stop the screams from escaping. The feeling of him throbbing inside you was indescribable and, just like that, with a low groan, he came undone.

"Fuck," he cursed, his eyes shut fiercely as he emptied himself inside you, his cock pulsing with each release.

His entire body shuddered, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he struggled to catch his breath.

You could feel his warmth seeping into you, his essence mixing with your own. His weight pressed down on you, cocooning you between the soft sheets.

Your heart thumped madly, the echoes blending together, creating a symphony of chaos within your chest. You stared back at him, your gaze transfixed upon his beautiful face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, the concern in his voice palpable.

"Yeah," you replied, the word scarcely audible to even your own ears. "I'm fine. Just...amazing," you added, your voice shaking.

He looked at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Good," he then said, his voice hushed yet intense. "Although, don't think that we are done here yet," he told you while easing himself out of you gently, causing you to moan once more. 

"So, you want me to stay the night then?" you asked Cillian, breaking the tranquil silence enveloping the entire room.

His eyes locked onto yours, a smoldering ember flickering in their depths, before nodding slowly.

"Only if you want to," he replied, his voice laced with uncertainty despite conveying an offer you knew he really wanted you to accept. 

"I would love to," you responded nonchalantly, giving him a peck on the cheek before sitting up carefully, maneuvering away from the mess beneath you and it was in that moment that Cillian's cellphone rang. 

The ringtone echoed through the room, jarring him from your afterglow as he reached for his phone lying on the bedside table.

Seeing the name "Danielle" come up on the screen, you knew that this was his wife calling him and, immediately, he paused, looking at you with pleading eyes for a few seconds before answering the call.

"Hey," he spoke calmly into the receiver, his voice betraying none of the events that had transpired earlier between you. "What's up?" he wanted to know and, much to your surprise, she appeared angry and, even though she wasn't on speaker, you could hear the entire conversation between them simply due to the loudness of her voice.

"How dare you treat your son like that, Cillian!" Danielle screeched into the phone, her voice trembling with anger. 

"Treat him like what? What the fuck are you talking about?" Cillian asked calmly, the confusion apparent in his voice.

"Max just told me that you wouldn't get him a lawyer, nor would you be paying to get his car fixed," Danielle spat out, her voice cold and unforgiving. "You basically disowned him because of that accident and, if you ask me, that's not fair, Cillian!" she shouted.

Cillian sighed into the phone, his shoulders dropping slightly as he tried to calm himself down.

"Look, Danny," he began hesitantly, trying to explain his side of the situation. "Max knows what he did. He fucked up and he will have to deal with the consequences of his mistake," he insisted firmly. "He is an adult and can take responsibility for his actions," Cillian argued defensively.

"So, you're actually sticking to this bullshit line?" Danielle snapped back incredulously. "He's your son, Cillian. It's your duty to support him through tough times like these," she stated bluntly.

"I know that he is my son," Cillian sighed heavily, rubbing his temples in frustration. "And as his father it is my responsibility to ensure that he grows up to be a decent human being, which won't happen by spoiling him and fixing his mistakes," he explained patiently.

Danielle snorted derisively, her voice laced with sarcasm. "And what makes you think that you're doing a good job at that?" she challenged him. "You are never fucking home. You much rather hang out with your females co-stars than your family," Danielle accused him harshly.

"Here we go again," Cillian muttered irritably under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"We've talked about this countless times," he reasoned calmly. "My work requires me to spend long hours on set and travel to promote the films," he reminded her. "And I don't choose to socialize with the actresses I work with," he added pointedly.

"You sure act like it sometimes," Danielle retorted sharply. "Remember the last scandal surrounding you and Florence Pugh?" she reminded him. "It was plastered all over the media and gossip magazines," Danielle hissed, referring to the infamous red carpet event where Cillian was rumored to have left with Florence following some flirtatious banter. 

"For the millionth time, I did not cheat on you with Florence Pugh," Cillian insisted, his temper flaring up. "She is my colleague. We were merely having a chat and people jumped to conclusions," he clarified vehemently. "Now, I am going to hang up the phone and we will discuss this later," he decided, feeling tired arguing with Danielle over something that wasn't true.

"Suit yourself," Danielle shot back coldly, slamming the phone down, cutting off Cillian mid-sentence.

The abrupt end to the conversation left Cillian feeling defeated and frustrated but, most importantly, confused about how to react towards Danielle.

"I'm sorry," he apologized to you quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. 

"It's fine. I should probably go," you said, standing up from the bed and beginning to gather your clothes strewn across the floor. You were trying to process the sudden shift in mood, and the tension created by listening to Cillian's heated discussion with his wife.

"No, wait," Cillian said, reaching out to touch your arm. "I would like you to stay," he admitted, his eyes pleading.

You hesitated, glancing at the phone still resting on the bedside table. "Are you sure about that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yes, I am sure," Cillian responded quietly and you studied him closely, trying to gauge whether he truly wanted you to stay or if he was simply being polite.

After a moment of contemplation, you shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright," you agreed, tossing your dress back onto the chair.

"But I hope you know what you are getting yourself into," you warned Cillian, walking back over to the bed and sitting down beside him, wearing only your panties.

"I do," Cillian assured you, his eyes shining with resolve. "And I want you to know that you won't regret staying," he promised, his voice soft and warm.

You arched an eyebrow in amusement, noticing the change in his demeanor compared to moments ago. "So, what's the plan then?" you asked, curious to see how he would handle the situation.

"Well, we could start by ordering room service," Cillian suggested, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "I am starving," he admitted, his stomach growling in agreement.

"That sounds perfect," you responded enthusiastically, picking up the menu card on the bedside table.

Cillian picked up the phone and dialed room service, requesting a cheese platter, fruit bowl, and some other snacks. Once he hung up the phone, he turned back to you and smiled.

"They said it would be about 45 minutes," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Would you like to have a bath?" he asked, eyeing you seductively.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the bathroom door before smiling back at him. "Together?" you asked, causing him to nod. 

"Yes," you agreed, slipping off your panties and leaving them on the floor. Cillian followed suit, leaving his boxers discarded on the ground.

Entering the bathroom together, you marveled at the size of the tub. It could easily fit two people comfortably and you lost no time in turning on the faucet and adding bubbles for a relaxing soak. 

Climbing into the water first, you gestured for Cillian to join you. The water was warm and inviting, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You watched as Cillian stepped in behind you, his knees brushing against your legs.

He reached for a bottle of bath oil and poured a generous amount into the water, creating a delightful aroma that filled the air.

"God I wish I had a tub like this," you mused aloud, enjoying the sensation of floating effortlessly in the water.

"Well, maybe someday," Cillian replied, running his hands along your arm, his fingertips grazing your skin lightly.

"Maybe," you agreed, smiling wistfully. "For now I have to make do with a dorm room and group shower facilities," you chuckled, playfully splashing the water at Cillian.

He laughed and splashed you back before pulling you in for a kiss. It was a brief reprieve from the heaviness of the conversation he had shared with his wife earlier - and, somehow, it made everything else seem easier to bear.

You and Cillian spent a comfortable thirty minutes in the bathtub, chatting about music, dreams, and aspirations. You shared stories from your life on campus and how you navigated yourself through medical school while Cillian interjected with comments and questions, one which caught you off guard.

"If you don't mind me asking," he began hesitantly, "why did you break up with Max?" he asked, bringing up a subject you hadn't expected. You took a deep breath in, considering your response. "I mean, you were together for a while," he prodded gently, not wanting to upset you.

"I...," you stammered, staring down at the water, feeling the awkwardness creeping up on you.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have asked. You don't need to answer that," Cillian quickly countered sympathetically, his fingers tracing circles on your shoulder.

"We were at and still are at different stages of our lives," you explained thoughtfully, avoiding his gaze. "So, our paths simply diverged I suppose and this led me to break up with him," you told Cillian, watching his reaction.

"I understand," he nodded, appearing thoughtful. "Sometimes life takes us on different roads, regardless of how much we may wish otherwise," he offered reassuringly and you couldn't help but state the obvious.

"On a road where I am sleeping with my ex-boyfriend's father?" you joked, half-seriously and half-nervous. Cillian chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the edges with amusement. "I guess so," he replied, reaching out to trace a line down your arm. "Who would've thought, eh?" he then murmured as he was feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips.

"Not me, definitely not me," you confessed, allowing a nervous laugh to escape before you asked Cillian an equally important question.

"I am curious though," you began cautiously, "Do you still love your wife?"

You swallowed hard, knowing that this was a sensitive topic and that his response might lead to an unexpected turn of events.

"No," he answered swiftly. "And if I would, then you wouldn't be here right now," Cillian answered with a subtle hint of sadness in his voice. "Our relationship has been complicated for a long time," he revealed honestly, reaching out to stroke your damp hair affectionately. "There have been arguments, misunderstandings, and many sleepless nights spent fighting to maintain our connection," he continued. "I suppose, somewhere along the way, we stopped loving each other," he concluded, his voice cracking slightly.

"Then why don't you divorce her? I mean, Max is an adult now and he would understand, right?" you ventured tentatively, still unsure of how Cillian would respond to your query.

"Because I haven't found the courage to do so," Cillian confessed frankly, his voice quivering slightly. "I always thought that, maybe, what is broken can be mended," he added sadly, running a hand through his wet hair. "But what we have become..." he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Her jealousy caused most of our problems over time and, for the past ten years, she continuously accused me of cheating on her," Cillian sighed deeply, sinking further into the water. 

"But you didn't?" you pressed, your curiosity piqued, and Cillian shook his head slowly.

"Not once," he insisted adamantly. "At least not until now," he corrected himself, his gaze lingering on you. "And you know what the worst part of this is?" he asked rhetorically, his voice trailing off. "I don't even feel that guilty now, for being with you," he confessed, leaning closer. "It feels wrong, yet so damn right," he murmured, pressing his lips against your neck.

You pulled him closer, feeling the electricity between you surge through your veins. "You're not alone there," you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. "Like I said earlier, I never thought I'd be in this situation with my ex-boyfriend's dad," you admitted, a hint of laughter in your voice.

Cillian smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I guess we're both pretty messed up, huh?" he teased, reaching out to pull you closer. Without hesitation, you nestled your head against his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace just as there was yet another knock on the door.

"Room service," announced a voice from outside, and Cillian reluctantly released you, wrapping a towel around his waist before stepping out of the tub to answer the door.

As soon as he returned, tray in hand, you wasted no time in grabbing a slice of cheese and nibbling on it. 

"This is delicious," you then remarked appreciatively before climbing back on to the bed with a fluffy towel wrapped around your body. 

"I'm glad you approve," Cillian grinned, offering you a piece of bread before suggesting for you to spend the next few days with him, right here at the hotel. 

You considered his offer, the idea appealing to you.

"Well, I have lectures in the morning and then I was meant to go to the movies with my friends, so...," you started to say but Cillian cut you off.

"What movie are you going to see?" Cillian asked casually, taking a bite of the apple he held in his hand. You bit into your cracker, chewing thoughtfully before responding.

"Oppenheimer," you admitted while blushing slightly and your answer caused Cillian to furrow his eyebrows. 

"That movie is totally overrated, you know," he then teased with a mischievous grin, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, I guess I was really just going to see it because of that hot guy who happens to play that dude who built that bomb back during the war and...," you began to joke just as Cillian started to tackle you in the most seductive way possible, pinning you beneath him playfully. 

"Uh, I see," he laughed, placing a playful kiss on your neck which, immediately, elicited a moan from you. "So, you are only interested in seeing the movie because I am in it...," he taunted, his voice husky and intoxicating.

"No," you giggled, swatting Cillian playfully. "I mean, it was a selling point, but it wasn't the only reason I wanted to see it," you explained, causing Cillian to chuckle.

"Relax, I'm only teasing," he assured you, his eyes gleaming mischievously before he kissed your neck tenderly.

"So, you really want me to stay?" you checked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Yes, incredibly so," Cillian replied sincerely, stroking your cheek softly.

"You're sure that you won't regret it?" you questioned, hesitant despite the electric chemistry between you.

"Absolutely not," Cillian confirmed, his voice thick with desire, and there was a vulnerability to his plea that struck a chord deep within you. You couldn't shake the feeling that this was precisely where you belonged—with Cillian, entangled in this forbidden web of passion and intrigue.

"Okay," you thus conceded softly, a slow smile spreading across your face. "I'll stay," you whispered, your breath fanning out against Cillian's bare chest before you picked up your phone and texted your best friend and roommate Lucy, telling her that you wouldn't be back until Friday. 

To be continued...

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic

[writers-hes]

Borrowed Time

SYNOPSIS: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, abuse, canon-typical themes, death, war)

Chapter synopsis: The end of the story.

AN: Don’t look at the comments / reblogs if you don’t want spoilers!! But please discuss what you think once you’re done reading 🤍

LONDON, 1921

Tommy sits in his chair, unmoving. Dying becomes an issue to him if it affected you this way. Ever since the war, he thought that he was living for free. It didn’t matter if he died now since he was on the verge of dying every day in France but…was this a physical manifestation of what you felt every single day for the four years that he was gone?

“I only have less than three hours left,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing on the teacup on the table. “I’m not-I’m not supposed to be here, Tommy…he will kill you if he catches me here.” you whispered, afraid to let the whole world know about how terrible Simon truly was. 

“Hey, you’re alright,” his voice soothes you; the raspiness sending shivers down your spine. He was sitting beside you now, a hand on your bouncing knee. “I made sure you’re alright,”

“Tommy, I know that you hate me,” you sobbed, shaking your head.  “I’m sorry for what-what I did but I…we had these plans together of—of living in a future where it’s just us and—”

“It’s alright,” he says. Seeing you risk everything just to warn him was already enough proof that you were sorry. “I’m sorry for all of the things that I said that night,”

“You’ve-you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I…I sent you letters every week,” you pleaded. “I know that you might think that I forgot about you, but I never forgot about you, Tom. I’m sorry for believing that you’d think I was replaceable…that I didn’t matter to you,” you whispered the last part, hands on your lap forming into fists. 

Would now be a wrong time to tell you that he loves you? 

“How do you…” he coughs, trying to veer away from the road where you were going. He couldn’t do this now, not when everything’s slowly set in motion. “How did you get the information?”

You fished for the paper in your clutch, showing it to him. 

“I received this during a charity dinner in London,” you said. “I tried everything to put Simon away from you…but I couldn’t. I failed and now…now he’s out to kill you,” 

“He’s not going to kill me,” he replied. “It was Alfie’s men who put that there,”

“But he will!” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “He knows Alfie Solomons…”

“So do I,” he calmly says. “Alfie Solomons and I have an agreement,”

“He killed Johnny,” you warned him, but he was looking at you blankly and you feel despondent. “Alfie Solomons…killed Johnny. Has he not?”

“It was Darby Sabini who killed Johnny. To retaliate, I infiltrated the Eden Club. Alfie Solomons’ men were in charge of security and protection but Darby Sabini’s in charge of whatever dirty work Simon wanted to get done. Their dealings started recently with Johnny’s death,” he says. “It’s not—I,” he sighs, not finding the right words to say.

“Tommy…”

“Whatever happens to me isn’t your fault, Y/N.” He means it, you could tell but a small part of you still couldn’t quite grasp the measures that Simon will undertake to keep you close. “Y/N, love, it’s alright,”

“No- I…I can still try to persuade Simon. I’ll give that-that heir he wants so bad just please don’t…” you heaved, choking on your own tears. The way Tommy said it…like he knew that he was dying soon made you feel cold. You've come so far, would you really let Simon kill Tommy that easily? Tommy's hand on your knee tightens momentarily but he lets it go.

“You will do nothing of that sort,” his throat constricts. “You won’t have to do things you don’t want to anymore. I’m—I’m here now. I want you to be happy and I’ll do everything to make sure that you are but if an heir with him is something that you—“

“I don’t want to carry his child,” you shook your head. “Tommy, can’t you see? I just want you to live and be—be happy. We both changed since you left. The war took so, so much from you, Tom. We’ve both said things we cannot take back but God, Tommy. I want us to be happy and I want you to rest,” 

“We can rest together…be happy together,” he proposes. “Our future isn’t that far away if—“

“How?” you asked, voice small and eyes full of tears. “How?”

“No more running away. I have a plan,” he tells you, but he didn’t want to divulge the details. His blue eyes stare directly into you. His face was blank, but his body was leaning towards you, gentle hand still on your knee. “Hey,” he says, putting his hands on top of yours. You started to pick on your nail beds again. He interlocks his fingers with yours and you smile slightly. Just like when you were kids. 

“Sorry,”

“Y/N,” he stops himself. Why did you have to apologize for everything?. “I…I wrote to you,”

“Tommy—“

“I did. I waited for your letter everyday. I-I would be the first one to be there when letters were being sent but I sent them to Watery Lane,” he says. “I can’t go on with this without you knowing that I waited for you. I don’t want you to think that I’ve abandoned you because I don’t. I could never.”

He didn’t know where his courage was coming from. Maybe it was because he could feel the end coming soon. He was so scared to die without letting you know about what he truly felt for you, no matter how selfish that sounded. He wouldn’t die until he tells you about how much he loved you, about how deep this love ran through him.

“I know…Arthur told me,” you nodded. You blink away the tears that threatened to fall. “It’s me who didn’t wait for you and I-I regret it every day, you know? Not waiting…because I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t be here if I did and—I’ve always believed in your promises, Tommy. I knew that you were going to keep them but I—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes you, he’d be asking Arthur about that sometime. “I’m not angry. I’m alright, you’re alright, we’re alright,” You didn’t believe him though and neither did he. 

“Tommy?” you asked. “Do you know who tried to stop the letters?”

“I do,” he replied.

“You don’t want to tell me?”

 He hums.

“Can you hold me? Instead of telling me?”

Borrowed time, you were on borrowed time and all you wanted was Tommy’s arms around you. Love is a funny thing. The world was ending and all you could ever think of is how Tommy’s hands were made for destruction, but they were also made to hold yours. 

-

The house was dark when you came back. For a house filled with servants, the house was quiet  An eerie feeling washes over you and you walked on, looking for anyone. Instead, the fireplace was open, flames roaring while your husband sat. He was looking intently into the fire, smoking his pipe. 

“Where did you go?”

“Out and about,” you said, the lie rolling perfectly from your tongue. 

“I see,” he nods. “Did you know that Ada Shelby was abducted today?”

You stopped, ice creeping up your spine.

“Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club owned by Sabini and then, Sabini abducted Ada Shelby.” he says it like it was nothing. “I wonder why Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club. Do you happen to know why?”

“No, Simon,” you shakily replied. “Why…?”

“Because Darby Sabini killed Big Johnny. Do you know why?” he asked. “You don’t because you’re a fucking idiot, but I’ll lay it down for you. Nice and simple so you can understand. I ordered the death of Big Johnny to punish you for hiding who Tommy Shelby was. I ordered Ada’s abduction because you went to see Tommy Shelby today. I ordered for the death of all the Shelbys—even the children so you would never have to worry about them. I tried to be reasonable, but you wouldn’t listen. Maybe you’d listen to me once all of those Birmingham rats are dead, hm? You’ll have to carry the weight of their deaths in your shoulder because you wouldn’t listen. It’s your fault they’re dying. It’s your fault that Johnny died. I liked him and you killed him,”

“I gave you everything. I love you with all of me and all that I have but you…you still love someone else. What do I have to do for you to love me like you love him?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at you, he was just unmoving…smoking his pipe like he was telling you about today’s weather. You were shaking, afraid for them and for your life. 

“Stop crying,” he orders you, but you couldn’t stop. How could you? He just revealed all of his plans—all the things that he wanted to do to them. “Go to our room and stop fucking crying!”

-

“Well, you look like shit,” Polly says, seeing Tommy on the hospital bed. “What did you do this time?”

“Sabini’s men took me and beat me up,”

“They wouldn’t beat you up without anything. They wouldn’t abduct Ada without reason. I heard that someonedecided to drop by. What did you talk about?”

“Nothing that I don’t already know,” he shrugs. “Can you pass me a cigarette?”

“You want me to help you but you’re not fucking telling me anything,” Polly says, tossing the pack to Tommy’s chest. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Poll—“

“Tom,” she asserts sternly. “You tell me now or I will get it out of her,”

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back. “Simon killed Johnny and ordered Sabini to kill all of us. They know that I was staying at Ada’s and saw her enter Ada’s house and got us to where we are now,”

“Fuck…but we’re talking about our lives here, Tom.” Polly stresses. “Do you think that you get to have a say on whether or not we’re dying just because of a promise you made when you were young and naive?”

“I think it’s better if you all leave me to deal with this whole…thing,” Tommy says. “You’re right. Your life is on the line and I’m not really accomplishing anything if you all fucking die because of me. It’s not Y/N’s fault. It’s…that fucking husband of hers! If you really want to know, Polly…since you did give her away, yeah? Simon’s out to get all of us, even Y/N.”

Polly feels her throat tighten. This…this is what she gave you away for. Her nephew on the brink of dying, Ada with multiple fucking bruises, the threat of death, and then, the receiver of all anger…you. 

“That girl is like my daughter,” Polly says. “I will help you, Tom but you have to promise me that—that you will be honest with me. Don’t keep us in the fucking dark. It’s not your own problem anymore. It’s ours,”

“Alright,”

“I know you have a plan. What is it?” Polly asked, inhaling. “Honesty, Tom,”

“I…I made a deal with Alfie Solomons. We are alliances. He works with Simon for Y/N’s security and I allowed a few of his bookies to be in the racetracks in exchange of ensuring…well, Y/N’s safety,” It was half the truth. The other details, Tommy had to omit to ensure the execution—

“Stop fucking hiding,” Poll warns. “Tommy, you have to tell me,”

“Fuck—“ he coughs. “Everything is set in motion, Poll…there’s nothing else,” Polly looks at Tommy, there was no way for him to let up anything. Tommy was just staring at her, uninterested. He held her gaze, but she knew that there was nothing else. Tommy made up his mind about something; she just wished that it would turn out alright. 

-

“I’d like to stroll around the garden today,” you told one of the servants. Life at home had been back to the way things were. Simon was back to the old Simon that you knew but somehow, you felt like your every move was watched. 

“I’m sorry, miss but Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go to the garden with him,” she replied. “We can call on Mr. Coventry to ask…”

“What-what do you mean?” you asked. “I thought I was allowed to go…”

“Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go out of the house with him and that, if he isn’t around, you’re only allowed to be inside the house,” she repeated. You swallowed the constriction in your throat, unable to form any sentence. “We were also instructed to be with you at every single moment, miss,” 

“What?” you asked, frowning. “I don’t need to be tended to every minute of the day,”

“But miss—“

“You may leave. I’ll go to the garden alone and you can just tell Simon that I insisted on it,” you told her, walking away but she grabs your arm. “I didn’t tell you that you can touch me,” you spit. You’ll feel bad about it later but for now, you need to go out. The house was suffocating, and you felt like you were being watched. 

“Miss—“

“Leave me alone,” you scowled. “I want to go to the garden,”

“Oh, darling but you can’t,” Simon says, mocking you. “I told the servants to follow my orders. With the stunts that you’ve been pulling lately, I think it’s just fine to have you close and protected, hm?” he asked, walking over to you.

“Simon, this isn’t right,” you begged. “I’ve been cooped in the house for too long. I need-I want to go out,”

“I wish you could, but I have to go attend a meeting with Alfie Solomons. Did you know that I had your old driver killed? It’s all because of you,” he chuckles. He dismisses the servants with a wave of his hand. “You have to understand that I…I’m doing it for our family. You can hate me,” he states, walking a step closer to you. “Or push me away…” he adds, a tendril of your hair swirling in his fingertips. “You can even try to kill me,” he chuckles, his breath on your ear. “But you’re still mine. You’re my wife. You’re my fucking wife!”

You shuddered, pushing him away. 

“You’re taking everything away from me, Simon,”

“I’m just taking back what I gave you,” 

“My…my freedom. You took away my freedom,” you cried. “You took Johnny away from me! You took the Shelby’s away from me,”

A slap echoes in the halls. 

“Don’t you dare fucking say that I took the Shelbys away from you. They were taking you away from me!” he roared, chest heaving. “What—you didn’t think I would feel magically alright when you visited Tommy Shelby the other day? You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about that fucking locket that you lied to me about? We were having a wedding and you still had Tommy Shelby on you! You think I’d be happy about that? I love you and I…I gave you everything! But I still have to try to read your mind. Tommy doesn’t. You…you’d rather live in the sewers with that fucking criminal than be here with me,”

He caresses the stinging on your cheek, wiping your tears away.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

-

You were locked inside your bedroom, your heart aching. He loves you…but he hurts you. He’s cruel and controlling and full of wrath but he’s dependent and loving and kind. You hated to admit it, but you understood his fears, his anger, and him. 

What if you stole one of the cars right now? You could drive down to Birmingham and stay there or…or you could leave, find a place to stay in Ireland and never be heard of again. Will Simon shoot down the car? Will he shoot you, too? Or will he forbid you to even set your foot in England ever again? 

Simon enters your room, disregarding you completely before sitting on the bed with you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, his hand covering yours. “I didn’t mean to…to do that,”

Right. 

“Simon…”

“I’m sorry, please,” he says, coming closer to you but you only feel cold and repulsed. “Please, darling… I don’t want to do these things to you. Do you think it doesn’t hurt me when I have to take things away from you? I just can’t…not until I’m sure that I can trust you.”

You closed your eyes, tears falling on the hands that connected you to your husband. 

“I’m so tired, Simon,” you whispered. “You…you taunt me and-and you turn my freedom into your weapon. I understand that you’re angry but to do that…to do the things that your father did to your mother…when you told me before that you hated him for it…what does that make you?” you asked. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…was that supposed to be your excuse every time he does something horrible?

“I—I…”

“I married you not because I know that you can give all these things to me. I married you because you told me you loved me. You told me that I was important to you…but is this what love is? Is love supposed to be painful? Is love supposed to bruise? Is this what love is supposed to be like?” you asked. You removed your hand from his, standing up and walking away. If this is what love bruises you like peaches, you wanted no part of it. 

Simon has given you the wings to fly but he likes to cut them whenever you fly too close to the sun. 

When you lay in bed that night, Simon’s arm draped on your figure, you only felt cold. You laid on the softest bed in the world, unmoving…unblinking. 

Maybe you'll be free another time.

-

“I’m sorry for what I did,” he says, setting his utensils down on the dining table. “You have…you have every reason to be mad at me,” 

“Simon,” you sighed. You’ve been playing with your food for a while. “You…you can’t just say sorry every time you decide to…hurt me. I want to be able to love you without fearing for my life,”

“It’s just…Tommy Shelby.”

“I don’t have him anymore,” you told him. “Tommy and I…are nothing but childhood friends. His father used to frequent the brothel when my mother was still alive. He—and I grew up together and he was all I had until he left. Now, I only have you,” you said. “My relationship with the Shelbys is nothing but familial. They took care of me, they took me under their wing,” 

“But he loves you,” he replied. “He loves you, Y/N and he wants to take you away from me! Do you not appreciate my efforts to ensure that our marriage is preserved?”

“What preservation?” you asked, standing up. “What—what preservation? You killed Johnny and you expect me to be alright with it. You took away my friends, my freedom…and you—you expect me to be the same!” You chuckled. “Preservation? You’re the only one killing this marriage, Simon. I love you but no matter how much I show it…it will never be enough,” 

“Then, kill Tommy Shelby!” his voice booms. “You want me to trust you? You want me to see your love? Kill him! We have more than enough money to have one of Alfie’s men or Sabini’s men to kill him. Kill him!”

Your face pinches in anger, eyes turning into slits. 

“What? You can’t be serious,” you scoffed. Simon takes your arm harshly and you flinched. He grips it in his hand, forcing you to stay immobile.

“Kill him,” he spits. “Your love means nothing to me if you won’t,”

“And you think I’ll continue to love you when you’re forcing me to kill my friend?” you asked, shaking your head. “Let me go!”

“No!” his voice booms. He drags you to his office, your legs stumbling behind him. “You have to decide if you’ll kill for me. I’ll kill for you, don’t you know that?” he asked, throwing you on the couch in his study. “I’ll kill for you…”

You stand up to leave but he pushes you down. 

“I don’t care if you don’t love me right now. You will love me again. You’ve been obedient for Tommy’s sake…that’s the greatest love of all and I—I don’t have it,” he whispers. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted and I don’t have it.”  He shakes his head, watching your husband turn into the cruel man that you learned to hate. He walks towards the door and exits. You run after him but he forces the door closed from the other side. 

“Make sure that Mrs. Coventry is taken care of,” he tells his security. “Only maids are allowed to be inside but don’t let anyone near the door until I leave. She will remain in this room until I arrive in the evening.”

You were rattling the door but to no avail. Your tears were freely flowing, trying to get the door open by slamming your body on it. You could hear the quiet murmur outside but they were all ignoring you.

“Let me out, Simon!” you sobbed. “Let me out! Let me out…please!” you cried, slamming your body harder but it couldn’t fucking open. Your fall on the floor, consoling yourself from the coldness and the darkness of Simon’s office. If your mother saw you today, would she be proud of you?

-

Time passes in Tommy’s eyes, his eyes blank. Alfie Solomons told him to wait but he couldn’t. Their men surrounded the mansion, pretending to be your security but they’ve been planning the seeds, telling Tommy that you weren’t allowed to be out of the house with your husband anymore. He heard some of the men joke that you were a ghost that sat on the window because they have never even seen you. 

“Tommy,” Alfie called, a young man trailing after him. “I’ve got someone useful for you. One of my men in Coventry’s fucking mansion. Go on, David. Tell Mr. Shelby here about the fucking horrors in that big, big mansion,”

David nods, his resolve dissolving upon seeing Tommy’s icy stare directed at him. 

“My name is David and I’m assigned to the security of the house. Mrs. Coventry is currently locked in Mr. Coventry’s house—“

“Ah, fuck, mate. Just say Y/N and Simon. These fucking names really…” Alfie interjected. He nods. 

“Um—Simon laid a hand on Y/N yesterday,” his eyes looking away from Tommy. “She’s not allowed to-to go out of Simon’s study…after Y/N refused to have Mr. Shelby killed”

“What about the driver that brought her to me?”

“He’s dead. Darby Sabini’s men killed him,” Alfie shrugged. He dismisses David with a wave of his hand.  “Be honest with me, Tommy. Who is she? Because it’s quite absurd, innit? Here is a man with a wife and then another man who vows to what? Take her back? If I was Simon Coventry…I would be mad too, is what I’m saying. Did you know the tenth commandment, mate? Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife…did you know that?”

“No one,” was Tommy’s laconic reply, standing up to walk away. Alfie chuckles.

“No one!” he exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. “This no one cost me a man. A poor lad who decided to follow your Y/N’s orders for what? A few pounds and a fucking—a fucking night with you. Is that it, Tom? No one. Fucking no one and I’m letting my men run around after your fucking whims!”

“A fucking night? My fucking whims?” Tommy spits. 

“What? Is it not true?” he asked, “You’re fucking…obsessed, mate. That’s what you are! She is married. The more you act the more she gets…fucking hurt. You think that’s alright?”

“He’s using her!” Tommy shouts over. “He’s hurting her no matter what I do or not do. Did you fucking know that? You’re not doing anything!” he asked, eyes teary. 

“Then, don’t fucking do anything! It wouldn’t matter anyway; you said it yourself. As damned as I am, Tommy, don’t fucking do anything,” 

Tommy shoves Alfie, shaking his head. No fucking difference? 

“What the fuck? Tommy!” Alfie shouts. “What’s the matter? You’re fucking angry, eh?”

“Yes, I’m fucking angry!” he says, pointing a gun to Alfie. 

“Oh, you’re going to kill me?” he taunts. “You’re going to fucking kill me when your anger is un-fucking-justified! So, what, Simon has your woman, eh? He has her? You’re angry at me but fucking hell, Tommy! How many men do I have to sacrifice for this little fucking protection project you got going on? How many fathers will you fucking kill? You think you’re better than Simon Coventry? You’re going straight to fucking hell, Tommy! Straight to fucking hell! Just like me and Simon! You come to me to get closer to Simon Coventry and…you stand there, talking about not doing anything when it’s my men that have to go through the other end of the barrel. Kill me and pull that trigger for some fucking honorable reason. Like an honorable man and not like—not like some fucking civilian that does not understand the wicked way of our world, mate,” he spits. Tommy stares at him blankly. 

“Look, mate—Tommy. I will fucking help you but you have to be fucking patient. The races at Sabini’s tracks are happening soon. You just have to be patient.”

Tommy shoves Alfie away from him. He wouldn’t understand—he’d never understand. Time was ticking and if he didn’t move now, he’ll get killed.

-

“I think it would be much better to wear the green,” Simon says, looking at the dress that you have on for the races. “Wear it,”

“Oh, but it would be such a waste,” you told him, twirling to show him the way the fabric draped beautifully on you. “Don’t you think so? Besides, it’s going to be so hot at the races today. I don’t want to sweat,”

Simon pinches his nose.

“I suppose so,” he agrees, striding over you and laying his hand on your waist. “You do look ravishing, darling. I already can’t wait to take you home, hm?”

“We have to make sure our horse wins first,” you tell him, laying your head on his chest while you let his eyes rake over your body. “Simon, can-can you kiss me?” 

“Why so sudden?” he asked, turning you around. “Is everything alright, darling?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, studying his face. This was the Simon tha you loved; the kind Simon that you rarely see these days. “I just want you to kiss me, my love. Can’t you kiss your darling wife?” He smiles a small smile, taking your chin with his gentle fingers and kissing you. 

“I love you, Y/N,”

“I love you too, Simon.” you told him, pecking his lips once more before a knock breaks you away. 

“Looks like we’re ready to go,” he tells you. 

“Of course, you can go ahead. Let me just fix my hair and we can go,” you replied, turning away from him. He was so warm…so, so, so, warm. Simon leaves you with a kiss on your forehead. You’ve been good lately, no Tommy Shelby…no requests…no anything. You could tell that he loves it; that you were obedient but if you didn’t want a repeat of what happened, you had to play your cards right. You fix your hair one last time and double-check the contents of your purse. It felt heavy, it felt right. 

You had to get this right; you were living on borrowed time after all. 

Your car stops at one of Darby Sabini’s tracks in London. Simon requested privacy and privacy he’ll get. No one knows that the Coventry’s are present in the race except for Alfie, Sabini, and the men who ushered you to the private room. No word was supposed to be out that you were both here. Simon forbade it. You let Simon walk in front of you with his hand clasped around yours. The room you were in had whisky, rum, and other items that you knew were not for the general public. When you arrived, a man with a hat was waiting.

“Darling, I’d like for you to meet Alfie Solomons,” Simon tells you, removing his hand from yours to shake Alfie Solomons’ hand. “He’s been the one supplying us with security. Sabini will get here in a while, but I think that it’s better for you to meet Mr. Solomons first.” 

“Good…day, Mrs. Coventry,” Alfie greets, a polite bow sent to your way. 

“Good day, Mr. Solomons. I’ve heard so much about you from my husband,” you offered, smiling at him. 

“Good things, I hope?” he asked. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Mr. Coventry, Darby Sabini’s been looking for you. Something about your dealings. I don’t really keep track, you know?”

“Of course,” Simon nods. He kisses your head. “Will it be alright to leave you with Mr. Solomons for the meantime, my love?”

“Sure, darling,” you said, your hand tightening on the beaded purse in your hand. He smiles at you before leaving, looking for Darby Sabini. You watched the door close and you were about to sit down when Alfie Solomons spoke.

“You know, love,” Alfie starts, walking to you closer. He stops right beside your ear. “If you wanted to hide that gun better, you’d have to loosen your grip on your purse. I can see the outline of the barrel from where I was standing.” he says before leaving you in the room. “Darby Sabini’s not here but he is somewhere by the racetracks,” he hints.

“What do you want?” you asked, following him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Let’s just say I’m a friend of Tommy Shelby,” he nods to himself. Your blood runs cold, and your face turns pale. “Go,” he urges. “Do whatever you want,”

You exited the special room with haste. Blood was ringing in your ears and you couldn’t breathe properly. You were stumbling with adrenaline, with hope, with…every single emotion that you never thought you could feel and comprehend. Nobody else was in the corridors leading to the room marked with an unassuming planter box beside it. You cautiously entered and Simon turned around immediately. His face tenses with alarm when he sees you. 

“Darling, what are you doing here? You should go back with Mr. Solomons before Darby Sabini sees you. I told our men to all leave so he and I could have some privacy,” he warns, eyes darting everywhere.

“He’s not…he’s not here,” you tell him, unloading the gun from your purse with shaky hands. 

“What—what is this about?” Simon asks, looking pointedly at the gun that Tommy gave you long ago. You weren’t even sure if it was still working. You point the gun at him, straight to his face. “You’re going to kill me? Is that it?” he asked, anger taking over his features. “You’re going to kill me when I’ve given you everything! I gave you your fucking life, Y/N. Put that gun down and-and we’ll pretend like this never happened,”

“No! You—you took everything away from me, Simon. You took my family away. You took Johnny away from me and you still—you still expect me to love you? You took me away and weaponized my freedom. You think—you think that I can still love you? I wake up every day counting to ten if you’d hit me. If you’d shove me down and slap me and kick me. This isn’t love, Simon! This is prison,” you enraged, your gun shaking. “You told me that…you told me that the only way out is if I kill you,” you heaved. 

“Y/N…you’re being callous right now, love. You’re not you…you’re angry,” he tries, walking towards you but you just shook your head. “You’re being stupid!”

“Stop! Simon, stop!” you shouted, the volume of your voice raisins. “I can never be smart for you. I’ll always be a property in your eyes and I—and I’ll never ever be your equal,” you sobbed. “This is something that I need to do. You broke me,” you cried, tears falling in your eyes. “You broke me, and you still expect me to love you,”

“I love you, Y/N,” he sobs. “I love you—“

The coiled spring that wrung your heart explodes.

A manicured hand pulls the trigger, and your husband falls to the ground along with the gun that you held. Your hands shake and you fall on the floor, wailing. Now that the job was done, who else would you have? You crawled towards him, your dress was getting dirty, but you didn’t care. Who thought you’d finally use the gun that Tommy bought you for protection? 

You lay your head down on his chest, there was no heartbeat. He was dead, Simon was dead. The trembling of your hands, hold what you could. The blood trails down your arm and you just lay there. He was dead. Simon was dead, you killed him. You killed Simon. You killed the man who loves you. 

“There’s no use crying over spilled milk,” a gruff voice that belonged to Alfie Solomons says behind you. “You’re more capable than what Tommy painted you out to be,”

“Where is he?” you asked. It was odd, you thought you’d be crying by now. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Sabini’s men took him,” Alfie shrugged. “Simon ordered Sabini to kill Tommy today. You did well,”

“I killed my husband,” you told him. The waver in your voice couldn’t be pinpointed to one single emotion. “I just…I just killed my husband,”

“I see that,” he replied. “This wasn’t Tommy’s plan really. He was supposed to kill Simon and I was supposed to guard you while this all happens but…I guess Simon was quite intelligent too,” he says, pushing Simon’s limp arm with his cane. “You’re a good shot,”

“Mr. Solomons, I’ll buy your silence for five thousand pounds. I’ll let your men take care of this scene for ten thousand more. Make sure that none of this is blamed on me or on Tommy,” you negotiated, pulling yourself away from your husband. You were still trembling and Alfie could see how hard you tried to supress yourself from revealing too much.

“You just landed yourself millions. I don’t think a few thousand more will be burdensome on your pockets?” he asked, looming over you. He extends his hand for you to take, and you do, hauling yourself to meet him at eye level. You swallowed. 

“Blame this all on Darby Sabini,” you told him. You stand up straighter, looking him in the eye. “And I’ll make sure that the cash is ready for you after the funeral. I’m sure you’d want very powerful friends on the inside?”

Alfie nods, a smirk forming on his face. Looks like you never needed Tommy in the first place. 

The police found you wailing on the scene of the crime, the weapon nowhere to be found. Alfie Solomons testified that you were with him the whole time when one of his men ran to tell you that Sabini’s men shot him in the head. He had someone testify on it too.The funeral was private and quick, you decided to bury him with his parents in the mausoleum with ‘COVENTRY’ written in gold. Simon bequeathed every property to your name in his will. You were free; you were finally, finally, free. 

-

BIRMINGHAM, 1922

After selling your mansion in London, you moved back to Birmingham. You bought a house that was big enough to have guests over but still not as massive as your mansion in London. You haven’t talked to Shelby’s in a year, even though they did lend a hand with what happened to Simon. Apparently, it was Polly who arranged a meeting between some Lizzie Stark and Sabini. Tommy and Alfie connived to kill Simon, but Sabini’s men took Tommy away to some far away place before anything could happen. You couldn’t face them yet, not with the freshness of your wound…not with the guilt that clawed its way deep into you. 

You’ve been with Simon for such a long time that you almost forgot what it was like to be yourself. 

You looked at the garden outside your window, feeling nostalgic because this was the same garden where Tommy used to take you all those years ago. You were only kids back then…how time flies. Does he know thatnyou moved back to Birmingham? Is he giving you space?

You watched the rain fall from the French windows, appreciating the breeze and the calm that the pitter patter gave you. You looked on, a single figure walking towards your house and you smiled. For the first time since your life started, you were finally free. 

-

A/N: It’s done! It’s finally done…actually, it isn’t. I will be uploading an epilogue sometime soon and then, I will be doing a Q&A afterwards which by the way, I’m already accepting question submissions! I will be posting all of the questions in one post and I hope you guys send in some questions about the story. I want to thank every one of you for loving the story of Y/N and Tommy and it has been such a ride. I can’t write anything about a final author’s not yet…I still don’t know how to feel to finally be able to finish this story…but maybe soon? Thank you so much for waiting and thank you so much for the overwhelming love and support! As always, don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, or maybe all… to show your appreciation! Thank you so much.

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[strawberrysturniolo]

just tonight pt 2

summary: you and chris are forced to discuss moments of your past when the night before changes everything part 1

I woke up with the sun shining far too brightly through the partly closed curtains. The hotel room air conditioner hummed as a chill overtook the room. I tried to pull the covers over me, but I struggled, dead weight on top of them.

I turned over my shoulder, finding Chris, knocked out. His lips were parted slightly, the slightest snore leaving his mouth. I would normally find this annoying, but he looks so peaceful. His curls are messy, flopping across his forehead, some strands holding a tighter curl than others. I want to play with them while he sleeps like this. 

His body rises a little bit through every breath. I’m in a trance, watching his movements. I don’t realize how long I’ve been staring, but it’s long enough for him to feel my stare burning into him.

His eyes open slowly, barely, before he shuts them again, closing his mouth and humming. “Good morning.”

His low morning voice sends chills down my spine in the best way. I mumble, “Morning,” in response, the events of last night playing on repeat in my head. 

He gives me a soft smile before lifting his head weakly, making his fatigue known. He places it carefully in my neck, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw before I feel his eyes shut, his lashes fluttering against my cheek. 

I can’t stop myself from wondering if we made a mistake. It was just a kiss, and it doesn’t have to happen again. We don’t have to take it further. 

But right now I feel our hearts beating against each other and all I’m thinking about is how great it would be to wake up like this every day. 

We lay alone with our thoughts until Chris’ phone rings, a call from Nick. He sits up straight, his back on display as the duvet cover lays across his lap. 

“How fast can you get dressed?” Chris asks me, stepping out of the bed.

I do the same, assuming we’re in a rush. “I won’t take long, why?”

He digs around in his suitcase, pulling a graphic tee out and pulling it over himself. “Breakfast closes soon downstairs, and you’re in all my stuff. The boxers only make this look worse.”

I lower my gaze to my bottoms - a pair of his underwear. They hang lower on my hips due to my sleep, and Chris’ eyes can’t move them away. 

“Yeah,” I nod. “You’re right.”

The morning goes on with me and Chris back with Nick and Matt. Things have unfortunately gone back to exactly how they were before this trip. I’m not sure what I was expecting. I don’t know why I thought things would be different, but I would be a complete idiot to think that Chris would ever not treat me like shit. 

“I was looking around at places we could take pictures later today if you guys are down,” I suggest.

As Nick peeks over at my phone, a groan leaves Chris’ mouth. One full of disgust. Nick gives him a look and asks, “What’s your problem?”

“The less time I have to spend with her, the better,” he comments. “I’m miserable enough having to watch her while I eat, not to mention having to sleep in the same room.”

“Well, at least this way you can prove to Santa that you’re not a naughty guy after all and you can be moved to the nice list,” Matt teases, trying to break the tension at the table. 

I’m embarrassed at how my mood has been ruined because of Chris. Ten minutes ago he was curled in my arms, kissing my jaw softly, and now he won’t look at me. 

The worst part is, even when we’re alone in the car, or alone in public, he still won’t look at me. 

I can understand him trying to keep things ‘normal,’ whatever that means for us, in front of his brothers. But for him to completely ignore me and blow me off when we’re alone is uncalled for. We still have yet to talk about what happened last night, no matter how many times I have wanted to bring it up. The first step is getting his attention, but he has no intention of letting that happen. 

When the day ends and we all head to our rooms, I silently get myself ready for bed, ignoring him, just as he did to me. 

As I’m standing in the mirror removing my makeup, Chris comes up behind me, leaning against the wall as he watches me. 

“Can I help you?” I ask with a snappy tone, trying to set him off just as he was doing to me for hours today. 

He sinches his eyebrows together, like he can’t believe I would ask that. “Something wrong?”

I scoff. “You tell me.”

I finish up in the bathroom and walk back out to the bedroom. Without realizing what I’m doing, I scoop up my belongings, stuffing them into bags and hooking the straps on my arms. 

His eyes go wide as he races over to me. “What are you doing?”

“Getting another room.”

“No,” he stops me, or tries to at least. He makes an attempt to pull the bag off my arms, but I yank it back.

“Get off of me.”

“What are you doing?” he asks again. 

“I’m not staying in here with you,” I say simply. 

“Why not?”

“You know why!” I shout. I have this feeling in my throat like I’m going to crumble any second. I feel betrayed, taken advantage of, used. I feel awful. Why is he doing this to me? 

“I’m sorry,” he says, doe eyed. “Please, stay here with me. We can talk, we can kiss again or–”

“No, Chris!”

He takes a step back, defeat lingering around him. “I don’t know what I did,” he says softly. 

I head towards the door. “Then you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Do you think I want to act that way in front of everyone?” he fights back. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted things to be different? I’ve thought every day about how we could change things. I would change things if you’d let me, but I was never what you wanted. You pushed me away time and time again, and the only way for me to get over you was maintaining what we did have. We had a light hearted, teasing relationship, and whenever I threw something back at you, you threw it back with ten times more baggage.”

“So this is my fault?” I challenge his claims. “You’re using that excuse to let yourself believe that ignoring me all day as if you weren’t in my arms this morning was justified?”

“Please,” he mumbles. “Put your bags down.”

He looks at me like he’s on the verge of exploding. Like the dam is seconds from breaking. Like he needs me.

I toss my shit on the floor and stand in front of him, waiting. 

“None of this is your fault,” he promises. “None of it. I shouldn’t have treated you like this today, but after last night, I didn’t know how to be around you and them and act like I wasn’t daydreaming about you laying with me all night. I kept picturing you in my lap, kissing me. I wanted it all day. I wanted you. Every time I think I have you, you’re gone.”

I’ve never left him. His brothers are my best friends. Even when Chris is a dickhead, I still love him. I would never want anything but good things for him. 

“I would never leave you guys, Chris.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Chris, we used to be closer than anyone,” I remind him. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how to be your friend anymore in the way we were. You won’t let me be that for you anymore.”

“I do,” he insists. “Please, just hear me out. Don’t go anywhere.”

I let out a sigh at his desperation. Before I know it, he’s leading me to the bed.

“Prom senior year,” he starts. “Your date didn’t show up.”

He promised he wouldn’t mention that again.

“Chris–”

“It was Nate’s idea,” he interrupts me. “He told me to step in, and I finally had the balls to. I was running down the street to the store in a fucking tux. I ran in and got you flowers, and when I came back you were gone. Everyone was gone.”

My heart drops. No one ever told me why he was late to prom that day. No one told me he was making an effort for me. Everything would have been different. 

“You were gonna take me to prom?”

He swallows harshly as he nods, like he’s partly embarrassed for letting me know he failed, but that he’s proud of himself for trying.

“A few weeks later you came running into my room with the biggest smile on your face. You pulled my headset off while I was playing a game and made me guess why you were so giddy. I couldn’t guess, and you told me he asked you to be his girlfriend. The same guy that made you cry because he stood you up at prom, you were now his girlfriend. I felt like fucking shit. I tried to clean up the mess he made that night, and when I failed, he still won you? How was that fair?” he asks me. 

I don’t have any answers for him. 

“Then you spent the whole relationship telling me how awful he was,” he reminds me. “I was obviously going to be there for you if you needed me, but any time we were together, I had to pretend like I wasn’t interested. I had to try to respect your relationship with him, even though I hated him for making you miserable. I hated watching your smile fade and I hated that it was because of him. I did everything I could to cheer you up, and it worked, you know it did, but when you guys broke up, I thought it was my chance. You had no interest in me. It was so obvious. I just lost any hope of there being a chance with us, and the only way for me to get over that was to push you away.”

His words pour out of his mouth in a deep confession. Memories of us come flooding back into me like it was yesterday. Every look he gave me, every touch, every word shared.It’s all there. 

I can’t help but hate my ex even more for keeping Chris from me. 

I’m not mad at Chris anymore, but the frustration coursing through my veins masks my confusion for anger. And I aim it at the wrong person.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I thought you knew!” he shouts. 

We both stand in silence, staring at each other as our chests heave, trying to regain our composure. 

I shake my head, completely in shock at his confession. I used to cry to Nick, wondering why his brother was so mean to me after everything we shared together. He went from being the most important person to me to someone I barely knew. 

I feel like an idiot for wasting so much time trying to hate him when in reality he was trying to protect me from anything bad in the world. 

He couldn’t help it that he couldn’t catch up.

My face presses to Chris’ chest. I don’t know the moment I flung my arms around him and refused to let go, but the feeling of his heart beating against me brings me peace again, just like it did this morning in bed. 

“I called the hotel,” he says. “I changed the reservation.”

I pull back from his chest, staring up at him.

“If that makes you uncomfortable, and you want to go stay with Nick, I completely understand,” he says. “I didn’t think we were going to kiss. I wasn’t planning on making any moves. I just wanted us to be friends again. I wanted you back in my life in the right way.”

My hands hold his cheeks as my lips desperately search for his. His arms wrap around my back, holding me as close as possible. The kiss is rough, both of us trying to gain dominance. I pull back from him to catch my breath, staring at his glossy eyes. The guilt is written on his face. The secrets he held from me for years. 

“You could never lose me, Chris,” I assure him.

He rolls his lips into his mouth before licking his lips, basking in the taste of us. He nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. Fear takes over him before any sense of hope can. 

“We’re going to be okay, I promise.”

It was his idea to sit in bed and watch cartoons, and we did just that for the rest of the night. It was my idea to order room service. We laughed in that bed, sharing innocent kisses that were stolen from us over the years. I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything take that from us again.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?” he hums in response, his fingers tracing over my back where it had snaked up his shirt that was hugging my skin, just as it was the night before. 

“We won’t ever be just friends.”

He pauses for a moment before he responds.

“Good.” 

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @chrisloyalgf @strnilo @draculaura123 @jellybeanbby @bridgetteauria @qwertytit @55sturn @sleepysturnss @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnvvz @zoieisabella @swaggygirlboss123 @angelworldspost @patscorner @ducksturniolo @mattitties @luv4kozume @mbbsgf @freshloveforthefit @ripmattitude @gamermattsgf @strniololoverr @urmom2bitch @sturnitup @luvmila444 @st7rnioioss @sturniolosreads @1201pm @pepsiskiess @alorsxsturn @sturniolopepsi @sturnsgasoline @sturns-posts @sstvrnioloo @strawberrymilk4k @ratatioulle @kiibichio @nickmillersn1gf @milesfordays11 @l9vesick @mattsturnzzz09 @mattnchrisworld

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #nicolas sturniolo

[blue-jisungs]

ACTION!

author's note. first fic of the event!!! thank u so so much @slytherinshua for making this cute banner<3

genre. crack, fluff, coffee shop au, non-idol

word count. 1048

summary. movie major!vernon decides to confess to you, lead by an impulse (and a rush of caffeine)

as creepy as it sounds, vernon has been watching you. not in a stalker way, of course, but it just so happened that you both liked the same cafe. 

and you shared the same classes, like literature. and you both attended the movie club. and! he sometimes saw you on the gym when he went to accompany work out with mingyu. 

he realised this a while ago – he has a serious crush on you. 

he adored the way you always painted your nails with a glittery nail polish, the way your h/c hair fell on your arms perfectly. you also had amazing taste – not only he loved your fashion style but also during the club discussion about movies, he realised you both share the same taste in movies. and tropes… and favorite directors. 

or when, like right now, you chewed on a straw while your gaze was stuck in your laptop. the almost coal-black coffee looked sweet as hell when you drank it. 

letting out a deep sigh you put the plastic cup away and rested your chin on your hand, looking out of the window to observe passers-by. the pleasant chatter of the people inside the cafe made it really easy to space out. 

vernon failed to notice that he let his hand lie on the keyboard, his essay turning into a bunch of incoherent letters. 

suddenly, the door opened and a gust of cold wind sneaked inside causing you to turn around.

oh shh– you looked his way, don’t look–! 

maybe it’s the day he should confess? you live once, no? he already asked his friends for a piece of advice – chan said to leave it, jeonghan insisted to go for it. 

vernon sighed, grabbing his stuff and packing his belongings. careful enough not to nudge the empty glass after his cappuccino and plate with the rest of a lemon tart, he put his precious laptop covered in stickers into his bag. drumming his fingers in thought against it for a moment, he precisely weighed his options.

whatever, he’ll try. the worst you can say is no. besides, he once described emma watson as “a bit foreign, eyes beige and hair darkish-blondish”… so, props to teenager vernon for being so creative but he won’t be so corny now. hopefully. 

maybe… i think i’m in love with you and you just gotta let my love adorn you. no, too poetic. and he’ll sound like a weirdo. no, no.

vernon ordered an americano (extra shot, extra ice, make it nice) and grabbed it, taking a deep breath. casually walking up to you, he cleared his throat.

“can i?” 

your eyes tore away from the window and a cute smile appeared on your lips, brightening your face. 

“sure, vernon. sit down, i wasn’t being productive anyways” you nodded and moved your laptop to make some place. 

“y-you know my name?” he stuttered before plopping down. here goes his coolness…

“yeah, seungkwan introduced us. and we share classes together” you nodded, observing how the gears visibly turned in his head. 

“would you like to be a part of my movie?” vernon suddenly blurted out and he felt as if the whole cafe turned quiet. no chatter, no rumble of coffee machines working and glasses clinking. just you, him and silence. 

the tips of his ears reddened but his features remained calm.

“what? dude, i know you’re a cinematography major but i’m no professional” you scoffed and started chewing on your straw again. 

“no, like… that was stupid. wh… you know what i major in?” vernon was, yet again, taken aback. you nodded, taking a sip of the black liquid. the ice cubes in your cup bounced off the plastic walls when you stirred it. 

“vernon, you’re a friend of a friend. if course i know. you know my major too, so…” you let out an amused laugh and it was the most angelic sound he’s ever heard “but is the movie like a project?”

“no… just… y’know how everyone crushes emrata, emma watson or like, emma stone?” he named all the emmas he could, seeing that clearly you were confused by his words “and you… you’re just like everyone’s favorite movie” 

“what the emmas have to do with that though?” you blinked, apparently ignoring his previous sentence. 

vernon let out a shaky breath and looked around the room. couples, students, businesses men in a hurry. everyone surrounded by the smell of freshly grounded coffee beans in the air. 

“that you’re way prettier than all of them combined. and i used to have… no, let’s not go there. i keep making weird parallels to movies but what i wanted to say is that i have a huge crush on you” the boy said, fiddling with his thumbs and missing the way the straw fell out of your mouth. his eyes kept scanning the people in the cafe, afraid to meet your gaze “if you don’t know, let me explain girl. hmm, so what i mean is that saying you’re perfect is not enough…”

you scoffed at his adorable awkwardness. his iced americano began to drip on the table long ago, a small puddle of water forming around it. 

“vernon” 

“even if it doesn’t work, it’s okay…” he shrugged, looking like he was talking to himself at this point rather than to you. 

“vernon…”

“we’ll probably fight from time to time but we’ll overcome it like it’s nothing–”

“chwe hansol!”

his gaze snapped up, eyes widening. 

“not the government name?! sorry. what were you saying?” vernon rose his eyebrows and then blinked slowly. oh he’s such an idiot. 

“you’re so cute” you snickered and leaned forward, resting your chin on your interlocked hands “sure, let’s give it a go. action! as they say on movie sets, no?” 

“wha… are you serious?” vernon couldn’t believe this. it all happened so quickly and very impulsively… and… it happened for real. 

“one hundred percent serious, you movie nerd. i thought you were cute ever since i joined that movie club… so why not?” you nodded gently and saw a white smile bloom on his lips.

“i… i kinda can’t believe it. but so… y/n, may we go on a first date then? movies?” he asked excitedly, whipping out his student id “i have discounts!”

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

#svt #vernon #vernon fluff #vernon x reader #svt x reader #vernon fic #vernon fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt fic #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #hansol vernon chwe #hansol fluff #svt fluff #svt crack #svt scenarios #svt x you #svt x y/n #vernon x you #vernon x y/n #vernon crack #vernon imagines #vernon chwe

[lunajay33]

Not Enough?💔

Summary: you and Carl try and make friends and Ron gets jealous and says cruel things about you, will Carl protect you?

•Masterlist•

You’ve been friends with Carl since well forever, you were Shane’s daughter and when the apocalypse hit he took care of you Lori and Carl, and you’ve been inseparable from Carl since everything went awry

When your dad died you went into a deep depression but Carl was there he brought you back from that ache black pit of despair, and you did the same for him when he had to kill his mom

But now you were all finally in a safe place, well as safe as things could get in a world where there were brain dead people trying to rip your flesh to shreds

Everyone had stayed in two houses next door to eachother, you chose to stay with Daryl, Rick michonne Judith and Carl in the first house you all stayed in as the others moved over to the other house

You were sitting in your room, which was right next to carls when there was a knock

“Come in”

The door opened and it was Carl

“Hey wanna go talk to some of the kids of the town, try and fit in a bit” he asked leaning against the frame

“Sure” you said as you got up and you both left the house

You were walking around town when you saw a few of them you learned to be Ron, Enid and some others

“Hey guys, mind if we join?” Carl asked as we approached

“Sure we were just talking about our first kisses” Enid said laughing

You sat down with them as they continued around the small circle until it got to you

“Well aren’t you gonna tell us?” Ron asked kinda pushy

“Ummm” you looked at Carl nervous so he spoke for you

“We were each others first kiss, I mean we’ve known eachother since birth it was bound to happen” he said laughing off the jitters

You and Carl weren’t offical, you guys never discussed anything but you both knew there were feelings, strong feelings between eachother that ran deep

You both looked at Ron as he scoffed he looked disgusted but honestly kinda jealous for some reason

“Really? You kissed her, even in the apocalypse that’s pretty desperate” your chest felt tight at his words

“What the hell do you mean?” Carl asked you could hear in his tone he was fuming

“Dude come on, she’s not easy to look at, Enid is way prettier” Ron said laughing right at you

You got up and ran back to the house sitting on the porch, that heavy feeling weighing on your chest as you felt that burning in your throat rising as you tried to hold back the tears that inevitably fell down your checks……and they kept coming

You had never really been insecure, growing up with Carl and his reassuring words and the sweet people you grew up around made you feel good, made you feel like you were enough but that all changed when you came to Alexandria

You saw the way Enid looked at Carl and that’s how you started to compare yourself to her, the way she looked, her nose, her body it all came like a blow to you since you never really experienced envy before

As you were deep in that mind numbing toxic state Carl came up to you on the porch stairs as sat beside you as he rubbed your back soothingly

“He’s an ass, don’t listen to him, he’s just jealous”

“Jealous? Jealous of what, he’s right Enid is way better why waste your time with me” you sighed as you looked up at Carl

His heart broke seeing your red puffy face

“Y/n what are you talking about you’re beautiful, you know you’re the only one for me, with your h/c, and your gorgeous e/c eyes, and how you’ve always been my number one supporter through everything”

“Really?”

“Of course I…..I love you y/n, more than anything so stop worrying no one can compare to you” he said brushing you hair back behind your ear

Your heart speed up feeling like it was gonna burst

“I love you too Carl, always”

After that you slowly realized you’re beautiful in your own way and stopped comparing yourself to Enid, and Carl made sure to show you how beautiful you really are

—///—///—///—///—///—

How did you guys like this story, I’m new to doing stories for Carl for lmk!!:)

#carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fic #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes fanfiction #twd carl #carl grimes #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd #the walking dead series #the walking dead #carl grimes x you

[carolmunson]

you be the spoon, dip you in honey (older!modern!eddie)

part three of who knows how many. orange colored sky set list we finally make it to our real date at the park. dj finally doesn't have us falling in love again at trader joe's. let's do it for real this time. :) inspired by @loveshotzz older steve series: all i really want is youtw: age gappy (reader is late 20s, eddie is late thirties), brief mention of suicide, discussion about columbine, eddie puts clothing over reader's shoulders, eddie talks briefly about family trauma.

“So do you dye all your black clothes to the same depth or do you have a really good eye for color?” you ask. He peers up at you from his book, hair tied up in what looks like a pen – his grays catch the light, so does the wire on the glasses perched on his nose. His lips spread into a grin, tip of his tongue sliding over the tip of his pointy canine, “You look pretty.” 

songspiration: daylight | harry styles

He lied – it is swampy and it’s hot hot. It’s Uber to the park hot. It’s ‘can’t stand in the boiling subway’ hot. It’s thigh chafing hot. It’s ‘Why did I make a fucking icebox cake for this picnic date in the park?’ hot. You dressed as cute as you could for this weather, too sweaty for a skirt or dress, too hot to need to worry about how you’re sitting. Your cropped peasant top flutters at the sleeves when an unforgiving breeze of hot air blows past at the entrance to the park. You feel beads of sweat drip down your back and pray it doesn’t leave a mark on the gauzy cream material of your shirt. Your sandals crunch through the grass, following the pin he dropped when you told him you were on your way – suddenly the band on your high waisted shorts feels too tight. You swallow and shake your head, just a little further while the cooler with your cake swings next to you in your hand. You spot him five minutes later on a big knit blanket, snacks freshly taken out and set up prettily in their containers. His silver jewelry glints in the sun, freshly shined. He sits coolly, cross legged in black shorts, clean chucks tucked under his thighs that same damn carabiner hooked to his front belt loop. Your eyes trail upwards onto his black tank with an equally black linen short sleeve left unbuttoned, sleeves cuffed and loose against his tattooed arms. You can see a little more of his chest piece now that he’s not as covered up and it’s clear there’s very little of him that’s not inked up. 

“So do you dye all your black clothes to the same depth or do you have a really good eye for color?” you ask. He peers up at you from his book, hair tied up in what looks like a pen – his grays catch the light, so does the wire on the glasses perched on his nose. His lips spread into a grin, tip of his tongue sliding over the tip of his pointy canine, “You look pretty.” 

The hammering in your chest from his compliment makes you feel a little hotter than you were before. Eddie notices, smirking when he puts the book down to stand up and take the ice cake from you, transferring it into the Yeti cooler to the side. “Thank you for making this,” he smiles, “I’m excited for it.” "These are for you," he says sweetly, pulling a small bouquet of fresh flowers out from the cooler, "I didn't want them to wilt but now they're probably all wet." "It's actually kind of nice," you laugh, taking the cold bouquet from him. The water on the stems offering you some relief as droplets hit your toes. You sit down while he sets up your late lunch for you on a plate – he wasn’t kidding, he made bruschetta. Toasted the bread and everything. Meats, cheeses, cut up fruit, even Tajin. Was he a serial killer or something? Guys don’t actually do this, right? This is like…the witch from Hansel and Gretel energy.  "Thank you," you say, taking your plate, "For this and the flowers." "You said you thought picnic dates only happen in movies," he shrugs, "Wanted to make it nice for you."

“What book did you bring?” he asks while he pulls out two bottles of Pelligrino – the glass kind, dripping in condensation. “You’re not gonna judge me?” you ask. 

“Nah,” he grins. You reach into your bag to pull out the book, wincing when he looks at it with a quirked brow, sitting across from you. His cologne hits you, dark and leathery, woody and spicy -- you haven't smelled this one yet. Spit collects under your tongue when you see the chain peaking out from under the collar of his button down. Why is this old man so fine? “Bummer read, peach,” he laughs, taking the book from your hand, “Columbine by Dave Cullen? You wanna read about Columbine?”

“I’ve tried to get through it twice and I just never finish,” you shrug, snatching the book back, "You said you wouldn't judge me." “Probably can’t finish cause it’s a bummer,” he teases. He looks at you and the plate of food at your knees, “Go ahead, eat.” “What’re you reading?” you ask through a mouthful of cracker. 

“I’m halfway through The Two Towers,” he says, pulling the pen out of his hair and shaking it out, “I read the trilogy every summer.” “Lord of the Rings?” “Yeah,” he smiles and it lingers, it’s hard to stare at him for too long, “Also, yes – I do have a really good eye for color.” “Noted,” you nod, “Thank you for telling me. I’ll have to call you next time I wanna paint my walls or something.” “Don’t talk me up too much,” he says, leaning back and popping a mini pretzel into his mouth, “I think it’s just for matching blacks.” 

You've settled a lot after eating, both bottles of Pelligrino sitting empty on the blanket, snacks still out but the main courses fully devoured. You talked about work and he talked about clients and you both talked about how silly it was that you met at Trader Joe's because it is silly. The icebox cake stays in the cooler while you take your books out and digest. Time passes while you both read, Eddie leaning back on one arm and you laying down with your knees up. You’ve found the perfect position of the book blocking the sun from your face in a way that is still comfortable to hold it -- but the sun has moved some in the couple hours you've been at the park. “So what’s it about?” he asks after a while, “The book.” “Read the title,” you reply, turning your head to see him looking at you. “You know what I meant,” he sighs, nudging your sandaled foot with the toe of his Converse, “Don’t be so mean.” 

“It’s basically a recount of events, debunking some stuff – like the ‘Do you believe in God?’ exchange between one of the girls and Eric. Shows their journals and talks about the kind of kids they were – definitely not bullied I’ll tell you that much,” you explain. He marvels at you while you do, brown eyes raising and lowering while you yammer on.  “Was it weird for you? Like, did people think you were weird since you were into metal?” Your question brings him back to himself, away from your pretty lips and eyelashes, the way your face lights up when you talk, “There was a lot of overlap of satanic panic from the 80s – especially since graphic video games and shit were on the come up, too. I was out of high school by then but definitely got a lot of side eye for having, like, a Megadeth shirt on at work.” 

“What were you doing for work?” “I was a mechanic for a bit, started working there when I was a kid up until I left Indiana to work on music,” he reaches for another pretzel and you hold your hand out for one, already missing the bruschetta that you both destroyed in minutes. His fingers graze your palm where he places two of them, the salt bits falling onto the blanket. You take his fingers gently before he can take them away, finally close enough to read the tattoos on his knuckles. “G-W-E-N,” you spell out quietly. Your heart sinks at the realization – of course there’s some other woman, “Gwen, huh? Does she know you’re here?” “My mom?” he asks with a laugh, brows raising, “No, she died in 1990. But when I go visit her at the cemetery I’ll let her know all about it.” 

Your face burns, sitting up and letting your book fall to the wayside, “I’m sorry – that was – I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay,” he assures, noticing you haven't let go of his hand yet. His fingers delicately tracing over yours, thumb dragging softly over the heel of your palm, “The other hand is her middle name. Really lucked out on them both being four letters.” He shows you his other hand, hidden behind a few silver rings was R-O-S-E across the knuckles. You take that one too, tilting his hands to the side to look at the tattoos by his wrists and forearms, “Her full name was Gwendolyn, but obviously no one called her that. My uncle always called her Gwenny. Gwenny Rose when he was drunk – they woulda made a much better pair than her and my dad.” 

“Your dad still around?” 

“Murder-suicide,” he says quietly while your eyes take in the art all over his skin. “Jesus,” you hiss out, eyes snapping up to look into his. His face softens assuringly, lines on his face becoming less apparent, “Don’t worry about it. It’s been years and a shit ton of therapy. I’m very healed – and y’know, we all have our shit. That’s mine.” He takes your hands and flips them over, thumb now gliding over one of your gold rings, “What would you get tattooed on your knuckles?” You can feel the calloused edges of his finger tips while smoothing up to the edge of your wrist and down again like you did to him. Your throat nearly closes up with how it feels to be touched so softly like this, like you’re delicate. You shiver despite the heat when he flips them again, feathering meaningless shapes onto your palms. “Oh um,” you swallow, forgetting there was a world around you, not even noticing that clouds had blotted out the sun, “I don’t think I’d ever get my knuckles tattooed.” “Why’s that?” “I’m not a sort of rockstar like you are,” you grin. He clicks his tongue, warm hands gently circling your wrists while he shakes his head in disappointment. “So mean,” he chastises, “I’m a real rockstar, I prom – oh, shit.” A few drops come down in spits, and then a patter and before you know it the rain is coming down in sheets. You and Eddie quickly cover up the snacks in their tupperware, tossing everything haphazardly into the cooler, even the flowers. You take both books and put them in your bag while he wraps up the blanket now covered in grass and rain. You both peer at each other through squinted eyes as droplets collect on your eyelashes, his curls deflate and coil the wetter they get. “Hey um,” he starts, “You of course don’t have to, but I live pretty close by if you wanna just run to mine and dry off.” 

A familiar fear bubbles in your chest, “Uh…” “It’s okay! Let’s get out of the park and I’ll get you a car home,” he offers, hand outstretched for you to take it. You can feel the buzz between your hands when he laces fingers with you, the same electric current you felt when he held you steady at the store yesterday. He holds it strong and certain, knowing exactly where to go. You let him lead you out while the cooler drags behind him, eyes half closed as the rain hits them. You look down at your shirt as you get to an exit close to the library, completely see through now that it’s soaked. You let go of his hand when he gets his phone out, crossing your arms over your chest, already missing the buzz. “If you’re really close by I’d actually love a chance to dry off,” you say before he even gets the app open. He looks you over, seeing how your shirt sticks to your skin, the tone peeking through. “Oh, honey, here,” he says hurriedly, shrugging off his wet linen button up and putting it over your shoulders, “I'm like, less than a ten minute walk. You sure?" You nod while the rain continues to pelt you both, wincing with your shoulders up by your neck as if that'll protect you from the never ending downpour. “Prospect Heights, huh?” you ask with a raised brow, “Maybe I should put you in my phone as Money Bags, instead.” 

“Don’t start,” he laughs, wet curls bouncing when his head turns to you, offering his hand again, “C’mon, peach.” 

You take it without any hesitation.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things au

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for sleeping with a 20 year old?

tw: mentions of potential grooming, age gap relationships, nsft/nsfw, vague discussions of sex

So, me (38m) and my wife (39f) are in an open relationship. Basically, we’re both bisexual and not quite ready to limit our sex lives to one person yet. So, we decided to allow friends with benefits situations outside of our relationship. No romantic stuff, no dating, just sex.

In January, my wife went to stay at her best friend’s (28f) house and have some fun together. I don’t mind at all, I was kind of glad to have our apartment to myself for a week. Now, there’s this queer bar that me and my wife frequent and it’s a good mix of all age demographics and identities.

There’s this one trans guy, I’ll call him M, that most people in the local community know because he’s very attractive. He reminds me of a very short Eric Draven mixed with Eddie Vedder. (Oddly specific, I know) Like, he has long-ish curly brown hair, big brown eyes, the sweetest smile ever and he dresses very well. A little grunge here, a little rockstar there. Good jewelry. You get it.

I always catch people staring at him when he’s at the bar with his friends. (We live in Europe btw, legal drinking age is 18.) In short, I find him very cute. He’s basically a micro celebrity among the community and he doesn’t even know it.

So, while my wife was away I went down to the bar and his friend group invited me to come sit with them. We started talking, he’s super funny and we began talking about Pearl Jam because of the shirt I was wearing. Found out he’s obsessed with the music scene of the 90s, specifically rock and grunge, and I happen to have a collection of merchandise of the big 4. I invited him to come check it out and he eagerly accepted. None of his friends wanted to come, so it was just us two. Showed him the stuff, he got super excited about it and I even let him keep one of my Soundgarden shirts and some CDs.

I offered to cook dinner, we ate and then had some weed brownies for dessert. We got posted on the couch, talked for a good while and he began confiding in me. I’m not gonna go into detail because that’s shitty, but he basically told me he’d never had a positive sexual experience up to that point. Apparently all of his exes were switches leaning submissive and he’s purely submissive, so things never really worked out and he never finished with any of them.

I told him about me and my wife’s arrangements and some other stuff about our sex life. (Don’t worry, my wife is 100% okay with this. Even in this context.)

Here’s where I might be the asshole, if not the creep:

Now, I was pretty high at that point and I joked about how I could give him a positive experience. To my surprise, he actually eagerly accepted. I was a bit hesitant because we were both buzzed, but he kept reiterating that he’s consenting and that he’s sure he wants this. So, I made sure he had a good night and he actually ended up sleeping over and we cuddled. It was super nice and he seemed genuinely ecstatic about it the next morning, it was adorable. I was honestly just happy that I was able to give him a positive sexual encounter.

We exchanged numbers, kept texting for two days and he ended up coming over again. Had some more fun together and he went to go sleep over at a friend’s place. At that point, I sort of realized that I may be catching feelings for him. Which is against me and my wife’s rules and also just a horrible idea, especially considering the age gap. So, I let him know that I need some distance and he was super understanding. He was understandably a bit disappointed but didn’t complain or anything.

Once my wife came back, I told her about everything. This is just a thing we do because it helps avoid speculation and unnecessary jealousy. We always tell each other about what happens with our other sexual partners, but only if they consent to it. Which most of them do because they’re our friends. She seemed a bit unnerved by it, not because of the fact that I had feelings for him, but because of the age difference. She said it’s weird and predatory and told me she needed some time to think.

Apparently, she went to go check in on M and asked him if I pressured him into anything. He said it was a 100% mutual thing and he’s very much into older guys, so he enjoyed it quite a lot.

This put her mind at ease but I’m still quite shaken by it. I never stopped to consider the fact that the age difference is quite concerning. I can’t help but feel like a nasty creep that bribed some poor 20 year with old band shirts to come sleep with him. I don’t like that I didn’t even think about it. Talking with M came so easy and we share a lot of interests. I’m not about to go and say he’s 'mature for his age' because he isn’t, he acts like any other 20 year old.

I was just so focused on how attractive and interesting he is to me, I fear I might’ve acted extremely selfish and should’ve stopped to take his lack of experience and his naivety into account. Of course he’d sleep with me, he’s 20 and doesn’t know any better. It should’ve been my job, as the older adult, to put a stop to it. Please don’t hesitate to give it to me straight.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #eyestrain