mizutsugi

[mizutsugi]

brat ♡ྀི (castiel x reader)

↳ synopsis: you went and did something stupid, and cas is just about fed up with you.

↳word count: 1,710

↳ cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI!!), smut, fem/afab!reader, mentions of a wound/blood, dom!cas (everyone cheered), fingering, not proof read (i'm too blitzed to do it rn sorry)

↳ anon request! thanks anon <3

“That was beyond stupid.” Castiel remarked flatly, opening the door and holding it for you despite his frustration. 

“I knew what I was doing. You just came at the wrong time…” You mumbled, walking into the dark motel room and flicking the lights on to reveal ugly fluorescent light across the plain room. You were clutching your bleeding palm with the other hand, wincing as you applied pressure. You made your way to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit when you felt Cas put a firm hand on your shoulder, stopping you before pointing to the edge of the bed you were currently in front of. 

“Sit.” He demanded, clearly fed up but also not allowing you to fix your own mistakes. You sighed and rolled your eyes, but did as you were told, sitting down on the uncomfortable bed and watching as he quickly retrieved the med kit. He brought it back out and took a seat beside you, putting the first aid kit in his lap and opening the metal tin, rummaging through bottles of Tylenol and boxes of band aids to find the gauze. 

“I came at the right time. You would’ve died.” He stated, finding the white gauze and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He uncapped the bottle and removed your other hand, revealing a deep, nasty cut that stretched over your palm, still lightly bleeding deep crimson. “Why didn’t you wait?”

“Sam and Dean are on their own hunt right now, and I knew they needed that witch’s book. I just wanted to save them the time and effort.” You replied, looking up to his disapproving eyes. 

“So you didn’t think to even tell me? I don’t have my grace anymore, I can’t teleport. I thought you were kidnapped.” His gravelly voice rang through your eyes, reminding you of when you were scorned as a child. “This will sting a little.”

He dumped some of the alcohol onto your palm, causing you to hiss as you watched the burning substance sink into your wound and wash off the stray blood from the gash. He carefully wiped the excess off with a washcloth, and once the spot was dry, he began to wrap the area in gauze. 

“But hey,” You gestured with your head to your bag, which was slumped up against the opposite wall, “We have the book. Guess I knew what I was doing.” 

Castiel sighed, tying the gauze off in a small knot before cutting the remaining fabric off, finishing dressing your injury. “You’re a brat.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling yourself get flushed in the cheeks as you reacted to his statement. Where’d he learn that word? The way he looked down at you with tired eyes, dark hair swept back messily with a deep voice that made you feel a certain way on its own, let alone when he called you a brat…

“What?” He asked, watching you suddenly go still and quiet, your injured hand still resting upwards on top of your thigh where he left it. You almost stammered out “Nothing!”, but you stopped yourself. Maybe it was the blood loss, but you suddenly felt emboldened to keep pushing the angels’ buttons. 

“Nothing, I just think you’re the one being a brat about this whole thing. I got the book, so what’s the issue?” You shrugged, feigning innocence. 

“What’s the issue? Are you being intentionally dense?”

“Hm?” You hummed back, tilting your head to the side curiously. 

Castiel grabbed your wrists firmly, jolting both hands in front of you while you were turned to face him. His grip was unrelenting, and you saw a fire ignite in his eyes that you’d only seen a few times when the boys managed to really piss him off. 

“I have tried to be nice about this, but I am beyond upset with you. You are acting like a child.” His voice was even deeper and coarse, and where it should’ve scared you, (and it did, a little)... You felt yourself beginning to pool with arousal. 

“Oh yeah? You gonna put me in timeout or something?” You teased, smirking a bit under his tightening grip. You had a feeling that you egging him on had no real purpose. It’s not like he exactly understood sexual ques from what you knew about him. He was probably genuinely angry, and that was it. 

Then you felt your wrists being released and your chest being pushed backwards, leaving you lying face up on the bed. Your hands were now pinned to your sides, and you saw Cas kneeling above you, straddling your waist with eyes burning with passionate anger. Or was it just passion? 

“You need to shut up. Now.” He demanded huskily. 

“Yes, sir.” You mumbled, taken aback with flushed cheeks and plump lips slightly separated as you took a deep breath. You said it semi-sarcastically, but you saw his brows furrow and felt his grip on your wrists get impossibly tight before you swallowed a breath and whined. 

Seeing you in pain momentarily worried him, prompting him to softly ask, “Are you o-”

“Kiss me. Now, please…” You whispered, dismissing his question and begging for something you had needed since he picked you up at that old ransacked house an hour ago. Castiel furrowed a brow, but nevertheless brought a large hand up to cup your face, slowly moving in until your lips collided. You melted into each other, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself get absorbed in his warmth. He gradually kissed more intently, only breaking away for small breaths before reuniting with your glossy lips with more and more desperation. A hand fumbled across your chest as he reached beneath himself to your silky top, hesitantly ducking his hand below the fabric to feel your skin.

He was an angel… a fallen angel, sure, but an angel. You didn’t know how much he knew about intimacy, and the kind of dynamics involved with it. You weren’t sure how innocent he was, given that Dean had tried his best to show Cas “the ropes”, taking him out to strip clubs a few times between hunts. You knew he watched a lot of TV to catch up on pop culture, so he’s surely seen some sex scenes but… which ones? Though he’d been on earth for a while by that point, you weren’t sure if should expect anything beyond a passionate kiss.

Your question was answered almost immediately as his hand traveled up your stomach, stretching to the valley of your breasts, ghosting over the fabric of your bra. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you panting and looking down at his hands mapping your chest.

Then, to your dismay, his hands left your chest and trailed down to your pants, lightly tracing over the waistband of your low rise jeans. You whined his name, frustrated as his dull eyes fixated on your midriff and the rough fabric of your pants.

"You wanna act like a child..." He trailed, looking up at you with an unimpressed glance, hands slowly unzipping your jeans before pulling them down your thighs. "Then fine."

You felt your thighs grow cold, now exposed to the air while he hovered above you, fully dressed in his usual get up with the fabric of his trench coat shrouding your view of the room. His hand dipped around the soft curve of your cervix, painfully avoiding the area you could feel growing hotter by the second. He remained focused, but his face somehow looked... bored.

Your squirmed under him, hips dragging back and forth until a firm hand pushed on your tummy, keeping you in place. The other hand dragged to your clothed bud, damp from pooling arousel. Over the wet cotton, he lazily dragged his finger up and down, causing you to moan, hands clamping on sheets above your head in an attempt to secure yourself.

"Cas... please..." You begged, not even knowing what you were really begging for.

"You're not in a place to ask me for anything." He responded huskily, looking up at you with heavy eyes, fingers still getting you off through the painfully present panties you wish you never wore, separating his contact further through annoying fabric. You huffed, whining as he continued rubbing over your clit. The hand that was on your tummy made its way up to your breasts, groping you from under your shirt. You were annoyed by all the clothes you both still had on (i mean the man was still in a suit, tie and jacket...) but this was his punishment. Well, his thought of a punishment... you were still so incredibly glad you kept teasing him. Plus, if you were honest, there was something really hot in how he was making you cum with nothing but his finger, still dressed head to toe.

Your moans became short, high pitched breaths as his pace quickened and you chased your release. Your nails were digging into the thin sheets, your body beginning to squirm again as he slipped a thumb under your bra, circling the soft skin of your breast. You had to fight to keep your eyes open long enough to see him watching you adamantly, head slightly tilted as he focused on your plump lips and flustered cheeks.

You felt a rubber band snap in your belly and you let out a high pitched moan, cumming around his slick finger, further dampening the dark wet spot on your panties. Your chest rose and fell, your bandaged hand slightly stinging from how hard you were gripping the bedding. His finger still continued for a bit, dragging you through your release, before pulling away. You whined at the lack of contact, still too blissed out to open your teary eyes.

When you could finally open them, though, you saw Cas at the end of the bed, hands propping himself up as he watched you. His eyes landed on your core before his gaze trailed up to meet yours. He had the slightest of a smile on his face, stern yet seemingly content having seen you unravel around his touch.

"You should clean up, they'll be back soon. And let me check your wound again..."

↳ a/n: GUYS. i am so sorry for disappearing! i recently finished my first week back at college and things are kinda crazy. plus, it took me FOREVER to get a good idea for dom cas... i hope i pulled it off mannn. i promise my sub cas request will be finished soon, hopefully by this friday! hope my lovelies are doing good <3

ps if you noticed the house MD refrence… shhh 😇

[mizutsugi]

bloodlust ཐིཋྀ (vamp!sam x reader)

↳ synopsis: sam had been turned by a vamp during a hunt, as still was seeking a cure to become human again. in the meantime, you helped him out a little.

↳word count: 2,128

↳ cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI!!), smut, fem/afab!reader, mentions of blood/biting (but he doesn't actually bc he's very responsible <3), p in v (wrap it up!!), just un-proof read hot vamp sex

You pushed the key unceremoniously into the lock and twisted it, unlocking the door and allowing it to gently peel open. The hinges creaked as they churned, and you walked into a dark foyer. You kicked off your shoes and flicked the warm lights on, squinting slightly to adjust to the sudden brightness. You had a plastic bag slung around your forearm, filled with small tubs of animal blood from the butchers. You knew your order was less than orthodox, but the subtle glances of judgment from the butcher didn’t really bother you anymore- not when it was for Sam. You made your way to the kitchen, opening the fridge and placing the bag on the top shelf, noticing the last tub from a previous outing was now gone. Sam must have drank it while you were gone. 

He had been turned into a vamp during a hunt from a few weeks ago, and was still looking for a cure. Dean had taken hunts on solo since then, since he knew Sam wouldn’t be able to help much (and really, the whole baby-brother-turning-into-a-monster-thing had peeved him a bit). You had offered to stay behind and help, and at his request you made frequent visits to the butchers to gather pig and cow blood to avoid sourcing it from humans. You knew he was frustrated and that he felt disgusted with himself by his transformation. It didn’t bother you so much- you were a Twilight girlie growing up, after all- but you knew he was hurting and it made you upset to see.

As you pushed the door to the fridge shut, Sam appeared behind you, towering over you in jeans and black Carhart hoodie. You almost jumped at his sudden appearance, looking up into his light green eyes that were dim and accompanied by heavy dark circles, likely from his lack of sleep and limited diet.

“Hey. How you feelin’?” You asked, leaning against the fridge as he let out a sigh, leaning against the counter of the kitchen island behind him. 

“Fine. Thank you for getting… that.” He nudged his head to the fridge and you smiled, nodding your head.

“No worries. Find anything yet?”

“I found a possible lead. I’ll need to head out tomorrow to talk to some guy in Tuscan.”

“Tuscan huh?” You laughed. “Exciting stuff.”

“Yuh-huh…” Sam shook his head, and your smile dropped at his demeanor. He just looked so tired. You gently brought a hand to his shoulder, reaching up to give it a light squeeze and resting your palm there. 

“I’m sorry Sam. I know I keep saying that, but…” You trailed off, watching his hazy eyes flick to yours, and he put on his best smile.

“It’s okay, really. I’ll figure it out.” He assured you. You just sucked your teeth, knowing he wasn’t as ‘okay’ as he was putting on. You gave his shoulder another rub before your hand trailed closer into the crook of his neck, feather-light fingers delicately brushing the skin. He winced and looked away, straining his neck in the opposite direction. You could see two faint holes, scarred over with dead skin and still slightly red from when he was turned. You could feel his pulse slightly under your touch, heart palpitating in rapid succession.

“Y/N…” He whispered, almost a hiss. Something in his tone said you were playing with fire, and you knew he sometimes had trouble restraining himself when people got really close. You didn’t move, though, observing him cautiously under the dim glow of the overhead kitchen lights. You felt your own heart race, letting your natural curiosity fog your common sense that said stop, now. 

You got up on your tip-toes and craned your neck up towards him, eyes darting from his lips, to his eyes, to his lips again. “Can I-”

You were interrupted by the sudden feeling of his lips on yours, his hands grabbing on to your waist for dear life. You were taken aback, but melted into this kiss as it got hungrier and deeper. His hands were basically digging into your hips, and you moaned into his mouth. When he pulled away, both of you basically panting from lack of breath, his lust-blown pupils flicked down to your exposed neck. Your skin looked so pale and translucent in the light, veins slightly visible as your neck stretched upwards to match his height. A burning hot feeling traveled through his senses, and his grip on you somehow got even tighter in a way that would definitely leave bruises the next day. Every part of him itched, and he physically had to pull himself against the tides of temptation, biting his lower lip so hard it could’ve bled.

Instead of giving in, he grabbed you from under your legs and slung you over his shoulder in such a swift motion that you audibly yelped. You saw rooms go by in a flash, and before you knew it you were being tossed on Sam’s bed. You barely had time to sink into the mattress before he was all over you, lips traveling from yours to your cheeks, and then hovering right above your throat. You watched him squeeze his eyes shut and shudder a breath before skipping your neck and going straight for your chest, making quick work of yanking your top over your head and leaving you in a bra and jeans. You felt your heart racing in your chest, taken off guard (but not exactly hating) how unrestrained he was becoming as he fought his own urges to dig into you. Even with his roughness, he still occasionally looked up to you before making a move to make sure you were okay. His lips hungirly kissed and sucked over your exposed chest, making you instinctively buck your hips towards his. His hands flew to the strap of your bra before unhooking it in seconds flat, allowing the garment to fall loosely off in one quick pull. 

Your bra was tossed to the side, your breasts now bare and heaving to the pattern of your rapid breathing. He looked up at you with blown pupils, breathing just as heavy as you with his mouth slightly agape, allowing you to see his pointed canines- white and sharp, just inches above your skin. You knew that this was a terrible idea and one wrong move could turn you, too, but you were too needy to care. Feeling his weighted body above yours, his thick denim jeans creating friction between your own, your exposed chest nearly pressed against his muscular forearms… who cares if he bit you, you needed something. Now. 

Maybe mind reading was another vamp power you weren’t aware of, because his mouth moved back down to your chest and continued to kiss and suck. You felt your skin raise with goosebumps as the blend of cold from the exposure mixed with the anticipation building in your body, soft moans escaping your plush lips. As he kissed, he dug one hand under the waistband of your jeans, long fingers ghosting the outside of your thin panties. You gasped at his touch, his fingers slowly circling the fabric just outside of your core, causing a pool of wetness to gather and dampen the cotton. His lips never left your chest, mapping out your entire torso and leaving you with faint purple marks littered throughout your body. The finger circling your pussy was now solely focused on your clothed clit, eliciting louder moans from you as you squirmed and writhed underneath him.

"Sam..." You whined, overly sensitive to all of his touch. He looked up from your chest, and the look on your face... pink, puffy cheeks, lust-blown eyes, painted lips divided as you panted...

He basically growled, yanking his hand back out of your pants. You would have protested, if that hand wasn't joining the other two seconds later in hooking around the loops of your jeans and yanking them down your legs, discarding them at the same speed he had discarded your bra. He took his own hoodie and, in yet another swift motion, yanked it off effortlessly over his head. He unbuckled his belt and shucked his own jeans off in a way that made you wonder just how many secret powers vamps had- seriously, the speed was inhuman- leaving you both in underwear. He looked like he was about to devour you whole, biting his lip and staring down at your body like he was hunting, and was milliseconds away from going in for the kill. You had never really seen him so... hungry.

"Fuck, baby..." He mumbled lowly, reminding you that he could, in fact, speak. He ducked down and connected your lips again, this time pushing his tongue past your lips and exploring the rest of your mouth and his hands ran through your body, squeezing every curve and edge. Your tongue danced with his, and you could taste the irony flavor of blood that lingered from his previous meal. His hands were unrelenting, feeling you up and down, calloused fingers feeling up your plush breasts causing you to moan into his mouth. When you pulled away, his hand had wandered down to his waist, and had pulled his thick cock out of his boxers. His eyes never left yours, dark and lidded as he pumped himself a few times and coated his member with pre cum. As he prepped himself, his free hand connected back to your core and pushed your soaked panties to the side, causing you to hiss as the cold air hit your bare core.

You watched in anticipation as he lined himself up to your entrance before he gently pushed in, causing you both the moan as you became impossibly full. His forearms planted firmly by your sides as your back arched, hips bucking forward as your body reacted to his length. His pace started slow for all of ten seconds before he was slamming in and out of you, pornographic sounds filling the room as his patience thinned and ran out. You moaned and whined underneath him, his pace causing the bed to slam into the wall behind you and your tits to bounce with each thrust. His eyes were fixed on your neck again as it was completely exposed and straining while your head was thrown back in pleasure. Maybe you could've been mindful of his 'situation', but when he was railing you at superhuman force you weren't exactly thinking about anything else but the firework building in your belly.

While his cock was still buried in you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, marking you with hickeys that became more and more deep as his hips snapped at a unrelenting pace. His teeth ghosted your throat, pointed canines pushing lightly into the soft, thin skin. He wanted to bite so, so bad that the mere thought of sinking his teeth into you was consuming him.

"So fucking pretty, I just wanna..." He growled, turning his neck to the side and painfully pulling himself away from your vulnerable neck. Your heart was racing from all the stimulation from his lips and dick, and you were nearing the edge fast.

"Fuck, I-" You couldn't finish the sentence, instead opting to bring your hands to his back above you and dig your nails into his flesh as he rammed into you. He groaned at the feeling, once again fighting his urges and pushing his forehead into the crook between your neck and shoulder.

"Cum for me." He hissed out, drawing you closer and closer until the firework building in your lower tummy exploded, causing your walls to tighten around him and cause him to finish, too. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your nails digging even more into his back as your body shook from the high. He whimpered into your shoulder, allowing himself to catch his breath and soften inside you, trying to calm himself down from all the physical restraint. You both laid there for what could've been minutes, just regaining your breath and recovering. When he finally pulled out of you, he rolled onto his side and stared at the roof, reaching over blindly to brush hair out of your face.

You leaned into his gentle touch- different from his desperation from moments ago- and smiled, almost laughing before breathily stating, "Your stamina right now is... Do we have to change you back?"

He rolled his eyes before looking back to your lidded eyes, watery from all the stimulation, a blissed-out smile dumbly lighting up your sweaty face. His annoyance instantly melted into admiration as he slowly peeled himself out of bed to get you both cleaned up.

"Uh, yeah, we do."

↳ a/n: my first post on this account- yay! did i see nosferatu and instantly get re-obsessed with vampires? ... yeah ... maybe... but anyways hope you all enjoy <3 to everyone who came from my other account @mizutsugi, thank you lovelies! i am so excited to keep posting here :) gonna go to bed and manifest vamp!sam now, night night

[mizutsugi]

hello spn followers/friends! i'm going to be moving all my supernatural/spn-related content to my new side account,

@arcastiel !!!!

this just makes life easier and splits my content into neat lil' categories :) dw! i'm keeping all my og spn posts on this blog. also, i'm currently working on a vamp!sam x reader post that SHOULD be out either tonight or tomorrow.. hehhe <3 see u there!

[mizutsugi]

[mizutsugi]

just opened my Hannibal season three behind the scenes DVD for the first time in years and they have a behind the scenes alternative shot that I suppose went unused where Hannibal tells Will “you have to be careful” after he says “it’s beautiful” and hugs him before they fall off the cliff….wondering now if that was supposed to be Mads at Hugh or Hannibal at Will, either way, really sweet moment

(also the fact that all the alternative shots are labeled “kiss alts” will forever haunt me, should’ve let them do it)

[mizutsugi]

have yourself a merry little christmas... ❅ (spn x reader)

↳ synopsis: you and castiel wanted to give sam and dean a normal christmas for once and surprise them with a classic, proper celebration- tree and all!

↳word count: 2,199

↳cw: fluffy fluffy fluff! gn reader, not proof read!

You had been living in the bunker with the Winchesters for just about a year since your first hunt with them, and you had grown used to the fact that your lives were not even remotely conventional. You were on the road every other day, and you often ate at shitty diners and slept in even shittier motels. When you were at the bunker, though, you tried to make the most of it and live as semi-normal humans. You and Sam cooked (Dean had given up when he burnt a grilled cheese), and you tried to make your house feel more like a home. You all had missed out on Thanksgiving since you were out on a hunt in Montana, but you knew you’d be home tomorrow for Christmas, and you wanted to make it special. You knew the boys had never really had a proper Christmas and it broke your heart. You knew it was a bit of a sore spot for the both of them, and that they were used to sleeping on a boxy bed with Chinese takeout for dinner, watching the NFL channel all day. While that became a tradition in of itself, you wanted to give them something more substantial and, frankly, less depressing.

You had convinced them to go out and get some groceries and lunch, keeping them out of the house for a few hours so you could decorate. You woke up Christmas Eve with a big smile on your face, knowing your plan was in motion when you peeked in the garage and saw the Impala missing. You had slowly built a collection of decorations in your room, having to hide them since Dean had insisted it wasn’t a big deal and he’d rather not make a big “hub-bub” over the holiday. You had started to make your way around the entrance and living room, hanging string and holly all over the walls and stairs. You had your favorite Christmas playlist on from your speaker, occasionally humming along with the songs as you decked the bunker out with silver tinsel and little glitter-dusted stems of pine. You adorned the ends of the stairs with big velvet bows, and just as you began to drape a big red and green runner over the map table, you heard a slight flap of wings behind you and a big thud sound as a box hit the floor. You smiled and turned around to see Castiel in his usual trench coat and tie, looking around the room and admiring your handiwork so far. 

“Thank you so much, Cas.” You said. He had picked up a fake tree for you from the store and brought it over, since it was something you didn’t have the time to do yourself. 

“You’re welcome. The decorations look very, uhm…”

You laughed, lightly placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “ ‘S okay Cas, you don’t have to lie. It’s tacky, I know.”

“I was going to say,” He paused, looking for the right word, “...Nice. It looks nice.”

You smiled, even though his eyes were slightly squinted with furrowed brows. “Thank you. Again.” You gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before kneeling down, opening the large rectangular box and beginning to pull the stem of the tree out. Castiel went to the other end of the box and pulled, allowing you to yank the rest of the tree out and onto the floor, fake pine needles littering the tile. You and Cas began to assemble the tree, propping the whole thing up on a base and admiring the completed product- nearly your size. 

You grabbed a box from nearby and placed it on the table, pulling out a small box of lights and ornaments. You and Cas began to decorate the tree, wrapping the lights tightly around each limb and gently placing ornaments you had picked out around each branch. 

“Is it weird celebrating Christmas? As an angel, I mean?” You asked, watching as the taller hung a santa-hat-wearing Snoopy ornament near the top of the tree. 

“Seeing as Jesus was born in September, and Christmas as you humans celebrate it is just glamorized commercialization… Yes, it is a bit odd. ” He responded, reaching for another decoration. You smiled, placing your final ornament before stepping back. 

“Awe man, you don’t buy each other angel Xboxes and bake heavenly sugar cookies?” You smiled, watching him as he placed another red bulb on the tree. 

“No, we do not do that.” He answered, semi-humorously as he completed his job, too. You both stood back and admired the tree, watching each colorful bulb glisten under the assortment of cute and classy ornaments. You smiled widely, reminded of all the Christmases you had growing up and the pride you had as a little kid when you got the “good job” from your parents.

“Want to help me with the food? Sam and Dean can put the star on when they get back.” You gestured towards the kitchen, where you already had all the ingredients laid out and ready to go. Cas nodded, and the two of you made your way to the kitchen to cook. Castiel wasn’t the best at cooking, since he really didn’t need to eat, but he still was able to help chop things and mix. For the next hour, you and him were glazing and cooking a honeyed ham, making mashed potatoes and green beans for the side. You made a brie and cranberry crescent roll wreath you remember having every year growing up, smiling fondly as you placed the lightly glazed pastry into the oven. Cas and you made small talk, as he asked you about your family traditions and you explained. He asked about Christmas movies, and you gasped when he said he hadn’t seen Love, Actually. It wasn’t even your favorite… but still.

Just as you pulled the ham out of the oven, you heard the doorknob upstairs turn, with heavy footsteps sounding in pairs from the foyer. 

“Holy…” You heard Dean exclaim, as you ran as fast as you could out of the kitchen and into the living room to see Sam and Dean, grocery bags in hand, looking around in shock.

“Merry Christmas!” You beamed, running up the stairs to help them unpack. Sam looked around with hesitant eyes, and for a minute you were scared. You knew this was a weird day for him- one that was often disappointing- and one he wasn’t incredibly keen on celebrating. You took the paper bags from his hands, watching with caution as his dark green eyes dragged across the room.

“Do you uhm… like it?” You asked, suddenly self conscious. You really hope you weren’t drudging up any memories…

“It’s great Y/N.” Sam smiled looking down at you with soft eyes that single-handedly soothed your worries. He bent down and gave you a light hug, paper bags crinkling between the embrace. You leaned into him since you coultdn’ wrap your hands around him. As you pulled away, you saw Dean shrug off his leather jacket and hang it on the coat rack, shaking his head in disbelief at the festive decor. 

“You threw us a surprise Christmas?” He asked, smirking with his eyebrow cocked. You nodded, and he patted your shoulder, giving you a sincere smile before making his way down the stairs, where Castiel was watching the interaction. 

“Don’t just stand there like a weirdo,” Dean punched Cas’ arm lightheartedly, “Did you help with this?”

“Yes.” Cas answered shortly, feeling a bit out of place. 

“Well it’s pretty awesome. You guys went full deck-the-halls on this place.” He looked around, feeling relaxed despite his original objection to the whole thing. Usually he was the one who had to make Christmas special, so when someone else had done it for him, it was nice to just take it all in.

“Get settled at the table, the food’s ready.” You said, rushing back to the kitchen to begin bringing out the food. At some point while it was cooking, you had placed utensils and golden plate chargers across the table on top of red table mats. Maybe you had thrifted them and they had seen better days, but it was still a nice gesture and looked pretty classy. The boys took their places at the table, glasses of spiked eggnog already on the table for them. They felt a little awkward getting table service from you and Cas, but nevertheless got comfortable as the meal started coming together. You and Cas crossed back and forth from the kitchen a few times, bringing out a basket of rolls and all the sides to go with the ham. You brought it out on a big platter, perfectly golden skin glistening under the light. You placed it down in the middle of the table, taking a moment to catch your breath before sitting next to Cas. Sam and Dean admired the spread in front of them, starting to reach for their food. 

“It’s enough to make a man cry.” Dean stated, loading his plate with mashed potatoes. You laughed, watching them build their plates before doing the same for yourself. Cas even took a bit to fit in. You all dug in, talking about recent missions, favorite Christmas songs (Dean’s was All I Want For Christmas and Sam’s was Happy Xmas (War is Over)), and arguing about if the concept of mall Santas is creepy or not. Once you finished your meals, you looked towards the tree, gesturing to it with a nod of your head.

“I left the star for you guys to put on.” You got up, tucking your chair into the table before making your way to the tree, pulling a large silver star topper out of a nearby box and holding it up. Sam and Dean looked at each other before looking back at you and the tree, slowly getting up from their spots. Cas got up too, and they all made their way over. 

“That’s nice, thank you Y/N.” Dean smiled, looking between you, Sam, and the star.

“You guys can put it up together or something. I don’t know, just do, like, a cute brother bonding thing.” You said, handing the star over to Sam. The two looked at each other and shrugged before taking an end each and lifting the hefty silver star to the top of the tree. They placed it gingerly over the plastic limb that jutted out to the roof, steadying it so that it wouldn’t topple over. They stepped back and both grinned, admiring the fully finished tree.

“There’s a few gifts under there for you, too… from Santa.” You smiled. “You too, Cas.” You turned to Castiel, watching his face slightly tilt to look at the colorfully wrapped gifts. 

“Aww man… this is too nice.” Dean said, descending downward to grab his gifts, shaking his head.

“You really didn’t have to do all this.” Sam said, feeling shy to accept his presents. Dean passed them up to him anyway, also passing a few boxes to Castiel, who held them in his hands like a detonated bomb, feeling equally as shy. 

“It’s Christmas! Hunters or not, we should be able to celebrate.” You shrugged. They all stood around you awkwardly, looking at their respective gifts in silence.

“Oh my god, just open them already!” You groaned. Sam and Dean laughed before beginning to unwrap their presents. You got Sam a new leather journal to replace his old beat up and filled one, as well as a new burlap sweater in a nice maroon color. Dean got a pine-y cologne that he said he liked in passing, and a new set of accessory rings- it was your subtle way of saying he should start wearing jewelry… he said he’ll “work on it.” You got Castiel a new tie, if he wanted to replace his old one, and a DVD player with a few of your favorite movies so he could catch up on some more classics without Dean shoving old spaghetti westerns down his throat 24/7.

“We got you something, too.” Sam said, looking to Dean who got up to retrieve a paper bag they had somehow managed to hide while you helped them unpack the groceries earlier. He handed you the bag, and you dug through crumpled up newspaper to find a few of your favorite snacks and a plushie of a cat with a big yellow bow around its neck. You smiled, holding it to your chest and squeezing.

“Thank you guys, I love it!” You said, cracking open the chocolate bar they got you and taking a small bite. 

“It’s not nearly on the same level, and it’s kinda all we could find at the store, but…” Dean said, before you cut him off.

“It’s perfect.” You held the plushie firmly in your hands before giving them each a hug. “Now, can we get shitfaced and watch the Hallmark channel?”

“Uhm, yeah.” Sam laughed, the four of you making you way to the TV in Sam’s room and gathering around the bed to finish the night with some terrible holiday movies and a bottle of whiskey. 

↳a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays lovelies!! <3 please ignore this is technically being posted on the 26th... let's all pretend it's still christmas. anyways, hope everyone had/is having an amazing holiday break and enjoy my fluffy little jot. i rewatched the christmas episode of spn and i literally cried... sam and dean deserve a nice normal holiday for once :(

[mizutsugi]

hello lovelies! if i made a supernatural fluffy christmas oneshot today would y’all want it? my writers block has finally been lifted- it’s a christmas miracle <3

[mizutsugi]

Hello there!!!

Just wanted to wish you and ur followers who celebrate a Merry Christmas🫶✨️

why am i about to cry… this is so sweet thank you anon 😭🫶 merry christmas/happy hanukah/happy holidays to all my lovelies!!! <3

[mizutsugi]

Not a prompt, but what do you think Dean’s favourite song would be?

OMG YAYYY bc i actually think about this all the time so this question is so exciting lmfao... i mean obviously there's like the canon songs like "night moves" by bob seger and all the AC/DC, metallica and zepplin tapes he had in his cassette box... but recently i've been listening to "feeling that way" by journey and i can't stop thinking about him... like i can hear him singing it in the back of my head, maybe as like a guilty pleasure song when he's driving alone <3 i love my mans

[mizutsugi]

Hello!!! As the requester for your 3am Hannjbal fic THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

That was utterly delightful to read! <3

awe YAYYYY thank you so much!!! <3 that makes me so happy, thank you for your request dear!! :)

[mizutsugi]

Hiii!

May I please request a Hannibal x reader fic, preferable female or gn where the reader is a full-on insomniac. Reader is a full-on workaholic (literally can be anything, author, painter, lawyer, idk) so when they start staying over at Hannibal's every now and then, the first time he wakes up to reader no being in bed is SCARY for him. Because what if she's snooping around his house and finds his basement?

Anyway, it just turns out she's in the dining room, bathed in the bright blue light of her computer screen working. So Hannibal needs to coax her back to bed.

Thank youuuu

3 am 💻 (hannibal x reader)

↳request!

↳word count: 1,439

↳cw: sfw, gn reader, mentions of taking a pill

↳a/n: gahhh wait! i see your vision!!! i feel like he would act chill but be freaking tf out on the inside... thank you so so much for your request! hope you like :) <3

Your relationship with Hannibal had grown to the point where, after a hardy dinner with an endless supply of rich wine that slowed your senses, he would urge you to stay the night instead of drive home. He was still a gentleman, and would occasionally offer to drive you back, but after he really took a liking to you there was no point. You also would make no effort to argue with spending another night in his downright luxurious king size goose feather bed with pressed silk sheets, huddled up against his warmth. 

Tonight, you were wrapped up in said silk sheets like a cocoon, back pressed to Hannibal’s chest as he slept soundly. You could feel the gentle push of his chest everytime he took a small breath, and it was quite comforting. What wasn’t comforting, though, was the fact that you were wide awake at- you glanced over your shoulder at the bedside table, peering at the digital clock- 3:28 am. You sighed. You sometimes grappled with insomnia, and as a defense lawyer you knew your time was never truly your own. Your mind would usually race with thoughts about checking your inbox, peeling over your current cases, and researching until your mind went numb and eyes couldn’t physically remain focused. You absolutely adored your job and the opportunity it gave you to represent the law, something so incredibly important to you, but at the same time… you knew that your career choice came with a price (outside of law school tuition). 

You couldn’t keep your current case, in particular, out of your mind. Your endless stream of thoughts were urging you to rush to your laptop downstairs and re-examine the file of evidence for your client. You realized that, despite how impossibly warm and comfortable you felt in your cocoon of expensive and amazingly soft sheets, you had to get up and go through your documents. You weren’t getting sleep anyways, right? Might as well make the lost time worth it.

You slowly, ever so delicately, slid out of bed, making extra sure not to wake Hannibal. You let your feet lightly graze the floor before stepping down, walking on the tips of your toes out of the bedroom. You slightly shivered at the cool air beyond the cozy bed, feeling goosebumps rise in your exposed flesh. You made your way quietly out of the room, then down the staircase praying that his old Baltimore home wasn’t too creaky. Luckily for you, it wasn’t, and you were able to fumble your way through the dark house before landing in the kitchen, cold tiles beneath your soles. You flicked on a lamp on the far side of the kitchen aisle, where you had (rather strategically) left your laptop. You hopped on to one of the leather barstools and opened the lid of your computer, feeling the harsh white light of the screen on your unadjusted eyes. You squinted, quickly typing in your laptop before breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of all the files you needed already being open in separate tabs. You worked for a while, scanning through each document thoroughly and pulling up a separate page to write all your notes in. 

About 20 minutes later, Hannibal had stirred awake. He immediately felt the cold of the room, and almost instantly noticed the lack of your presence in his bed. He could see the faintest of golden light peeking through the exposed doorway, and he knew you were up. He was always worried this moment would come- a night where you didn’t drink enough to knock yourself out into a deep sleep, and your naturally curious nature would lead you to hopping out of bed and rummaging around his house. You weren’t rude in the slightest, obviously, so you wouldn’t be doing it to be nosy. Maybe you wanted a glass of water, but found that the tray was out of ice and you needed to get another tray from the freezer in the basement. Maybe you would hear something down there and get worried, and would follow the sound down into a place you were never supposed to see. Though he had intentions of letting you know him completely one day, it wasn’t to be a day anytime soon… especially not while you still served the court of law. 

He was torn between what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was harm you- he had truly grown fond of you- but if you found the skeletons in his closet, he would simply have no choice. His appetite would always come first. He stood up and opened his neatly organized beside table, finding a scalpel resting near the edge of the drawer by the handle. He grabbed it and tucked it into the sleeve of his sleep shirt, holding it there discreetly with his palm. He stealthy made his way down the stairs and into the living room, following its path to the source of the light. That’s when he heard something- the familiar sound of you typing away at your keyboard, plastic keys being pressed down at an impossibly fast pace. He took a small breath, composing himself to release his tension. He looked around before glancing at his couch, and tucked the slender blade he was carrying deep into the crevice of one of the smooth cushions before making his way into the illuminated kitchen. 

“Y/N.” He called to you, causing you to nearly jump in surprise. 

“Oh my god, Hannibal…” You clutched a hand to your chest, taken off guard but smiling at his appearance as he stood by the doorway, calmly watching you. “Sorry… I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Of course not, dear.” He was wearing his classic maroon sleep shirt with dark linen pants, and your heart softened as he offered you a warm smile. “I was merely worried when I heard you on your laptop. It’s nearly four in the morning.” 

“I know, I know…” You said, partly ashamed. You looked back at the page, which was bathing your tired eyes in harsh white littered with tiny black lettering that looked, admittedly, a bit manic and unorganized. “I just couldn’t sleep, and then I thought about work, and…”

“I understand. However, whatever it is, I am sure it can wait for tomorrow morning. I have something to help you sleep.” He stated, watching you as you hesitated, sighing before eventually caving and bringing your delicate fingers to the screen before pulling it down and shutting your laptop. 

You slowly peeled yourself off the tall chair, hissing in pain as your joints creaked at the movement. Hannibal looked at you sympathetically, assured you hadn’t seen anything he needed to worry about, before waiting for you to cross the kitchen and join him. You walked to his side before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, giving it a few rubs with his slender hands. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” He muttered, walking you back to his room. He allowed you to lean on him slightly as you finally felt exhaustion start to course through your body. He stopped you on the edge of the stairs, and as you swayed slightly with barely open eyes, he swept his hands under your legs and tucked you into his chest, now holding you up with his forearms and making his way up the stairs. You smiled lazily, allowing him to carry your bridal style back to sleep. Man, he’s strong, you thought to yourself. He layed you back down on the plush bed, allowing your limbs to untangle from him and flunk onto the soft fabric beneath you. He climbed in beside you, kicking off his slippers next to the edge of the bed and digging through his bedside drawer for some hydroxyzine to help you stay asleep once you dozed off. He offered you the pill, and you lightly took it from his hand. You placed the pill on your tongue before he held a glass of water to your lips, allowing you to tilt your head back before letting the liquid flood your mouth. You swallowed the pill, and after he placed the glass back down, you snuggled up against him. You pulled yourself into his chest, already feeling 10 seconds away from sleep. He brought his fingers to your delicate cheek, brushing stray strands of hair off it and allowing you to cuddle up to him. Relief came over the both of you for two opposite reasons, but either way, you both were able to contently slip into sleep without any issues this time.

↳a/n: thank you so much for reading! keep them requests coming since i'm home for the holidays...and bored lol

thank you again to anon for the request too!

[mizutsugi]

that cowgirl fic gen changed my life u are incredible

omg shucksss 🤭 thank you pookie! i live to serve <3

[mizutsugi]

cowgirl ☆ (dean winchester x reader

↳ synopsis: you ride the mechanical bull at some texas dive bar, and dean really can't keep his mind out of the gutter...

↳word count: 2,052

↳cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI!!), smut, fem/afab reader, oral sex (f recieving), p in v (wrap it up!!!), cowgirl (duh..), a bit of sub dean if you squint, not proof read!

You were about five shots in at a little dive bar in Texas, slamming the shot glass down onto the sticky dark oak counter as Dean followed behind you. The place was crowded- it was a Friday night, after all. The room smelled like booze and old leather, and the walls were a deep red, littered with little photos and mementos… an old acoustic guitar, a framed picture of a longhorn, an old Budweiser sign- the works. Whatever shyness you had was left at the door, and with all the booze starting to hit your system, you felt like you could do anything. That’s when your eyes landed on a faux bull in the middle of the dimly lit room, surrounded by blue padded foam and a ring. You smiled and pointed at it, trying to get Dean to follow.

“I wanna ride it.” You said.

“Are you sure about that, sweetheart? You’ve had a few.” Dean chuckled, currently sipping on a whiskey.

“Mhm.” You nodded before hopping off the barstool, dotting your way around the crowded bar before you made it to the bullpen. Dean was frankly shocked you went for it so quickly, and tried to follow you, pushing through a few people in the process. 

You threw a leg clumsily over the elastic cord separating the bullpen and the hardwood floor, stumbling over the soft foam before grasping onto the robotic bull. Suddenly a man appeared behind you- hell, maybe he was there the whole time- and tapped your shoulder. 

“You sober enough to be doing this, missus?” He asked with a southern drawl. He had a jean jacket on and a cowboy hat, and you gave him the kindest smile you could summon.

“Yes sir, promise!” You grinned, swinging your leg over the bull and mounting it. You playfully grabbed his cowboy hat and put it on your head. The man just laughed and shook his head, too spent to fight it. You looked around for Dean, who was now leaning on the cord with his arms folded over the strong material, smirking at you. In his head, he was making a bet with himself that you’d last 10 seconds tops. 

“Alrighty, just hang tight…” The man ducked out of the ring and grabbed what you assumed to be the controller. He pressed a button and the bull, big and black, started moving. 

You laughed and gripped onto the saddle mount, trying to remember everything from those old western flicks Dean loved to watch back home. You lifted your hips, back arching as you tried to remain as steady as possible while the bull lurched forward. Your thighs squeezed tightly around the machinery, your hold on the peg in front of you steady. You kept giggling to yourself, looking back at Dean with a wild grin on your face. He smiled back, nodding his head in approval. If he was being honest, all he could focus on was the way your hips rolled and your hair bounced on your collarbone, done up into two cute braided pigtails. You were wearing his flannel and a lacy white tank top underneath, that showed just enough. 

A crowd slowly emerged around the pen, with people holding drinks and cheering you on as you passed the thirty second mark. The bull started moving more rapidly, and your thighs gripped the beast tighter, while the upper half of your torso moved freely as to dodge the sharp movements. You whooped and hollered, freeing one arm from the mount to grab on to your (stolen) cowboy hat and tip it to the crowd before waving it frantically in the air. You could hear Dean clapping for you, cheering your name as you made it past a minute. You looked over to him as he watched you, both enamored and proud, and you smiled back. You put the hat back on your head and watched as a few of the patrons of the bar joined in on the cheering. The bull was getting quicker and more frantic, bucking you around all over the place. You tried your best, but your grip loosened and your thighs started spazzing out, losing their hold around the animal. You let out one last cheer before getting thrown off the bull, landing with a gentle thud on the plush padding beneath you. You laughed as the people around you clapped, including the operator. He retrieved his hat, which had fallen off your head when you fell, and gave you a firm handshake and a “well done” after you pulled yourself back up. You felt a bit dizzy, and looked around for Dean, who was now ducking below the cord and offering you a sturdy hand to pull yourself up by. 

You smiled warmly at him before taking it, allowing him to pull you out of the ring. He dropped your hand but quickly went in for a kiss, pecking you on the lips before giving your shoulder an approving pat. 

“You’re a damn professional, babe.” He said.

“Aw, shucks…” You smiled sheepishly, dusting your knees off before taking his hand as the two of you walked out of the bar and out the door, feeling the humid night air hit your faces as you stepped out into the warm darkness. You both headed for the Impala before driving back to the motel you were holed up in during the hunt. 

-

The second you made it through the door, Dean was all over you. He was holding you tight, pulling in before kissing you. You laughed, pulling away after his third kiss.

“Someone’s ancy, huh?” You cocked a brow, noting how his green eyes scanned all over your body while he held you close.

“Can’t help it. It was hot.” He mumbled lowly, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“What, how good I was on the bull?” You asked. 

“M-hm…” He hummed, the hand on your lower back inching lower and lower until it fell over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re such a horndog…” You smirked and rolled your eyes, but leaned into his touch. He slowly walked you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You fell backward, allowing him to climb over you until he was hovering above your face, his eyes obsessively roaming over you. He lowered his face down to yours and kissed you again, this time hungrier and more desperate. He slowly moved across your jaw, then down to your exposed neck and collarbone. You moaned softly as he sucked on your neck, his hands wandering down to the flannel around you and pulling at the fabric until it came off, taking his lips off you momentarily so he could pull your arms out of the sleeves. While you were still lifted a bit off the bed, he pulled the white tank off carefully over your head, leaving you in a white silky bra and low rise blue jeans. He also took that time to throw off his own shirt, and you had about two seconds to admire his built chest before he was back on your neck. He kissed and sucked and bit, making you whimper and reach up to clutch his short hair. He snaked his hands underneath your back and fiddled with the clasps of your bra until he successfully undid them, pulling the straps down and revealing your breasts. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful…” He murmured from your neck, slowly tracing his lips down the valley of your chest between your tits. His hands reached up to feel the soft, supple skin, calloused fingers occasionally pinching your nipples and rolling over the sensitive buds. You let out small whimpers that made him harden beneath you, bucking his hips into the mattress as he worked his way down your stomach. His occupied hands left your chest and wandered down to the waistline of your jeans, gently pushing them down your thighs and, with one swift tug, off your legs. He threw them to the side, focusing on the lace panties you had on. He practically groaned at the site of a wet spot in the middle, where you were worked up. He looked up to your yearning eyes for permission before you feverishly nodded your head in approval. You watched him pull at the thin fabric until you were left completely bare.

He wasted no time connecting himself to your core, tongue lapping at your clip. You moaned, hands practically flying to his short locks to stabilize yourself. He had to admit, you pulling on his hair and moaning so sweetly shortened his patience a bit. He was skillfully working your body, sucking and licking in all the right spots between your folds, hands moving to grasp your hips, keeping you pinned in one spot. You couldn’t help but roll them, though, pleasure coming in waves as he hit your sensitive bud over and over again. 

“D-Dean…” You moaned, eyes squeezing shut as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Without you finishing your sentence, he knew, and his unrelenting tongue carried you to your (quick) release. You shuttered, feeling your body tremble and thighs quiver as you came down, his face pulling away from you to reveal his stubble covered in slick. He smiled in a way that was downright devious, so smug that he knew how quickly he could make you come undone. Giving you time to recover, he pulled his pants off, allowing the denim to pool at his ankles before kicking them off, then releasing himself from his boxers. Your mouth all but watered at the sight of his cock, already pink and slightly glazed with precum. He pumped himself a few times before positing himself at your entrance, emerald eyes locking with yours with eager, but gentle, anticipation. 

“Breathe in for me, pretty girl.” He said, giving you time to collect your breath before pushing in. You whined, feeling him slowly fill you as to let you get used to the feeling. As his hips slowly pulled in and out, each movement turning pain into pleasure, you reached to grip his strong arms. He groaned lowly, feeling you tighten around him, his thrusts beginning to pick up the pace. 

“D…Dean..” You moaned, shakily tapping your finger against his arm.

His thrusts slowed slightly as he cautiously responded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Switch w’me.” You requested, an idea forming. He gave you a bit of a skeptical look, before pulling out and lying down beside you, a bit frustrated from the sudden separation. 

You climbed over him, and his eyes suddenly lit up as realization hit him all at once. You straddled his bare lap, hovering over his cock. Your hands felt up his toned chest, nails dragging across it slightly as you admired how handsome he looked under you. He fucking whimpered, which drove you crazy and reminded you why exactly you decided to take the lead. Your hands wandered back down to his dick, lining it up with your entrance before you slowly lowered yourself down on him. You and him both moaned at the feeling of being inside each other again, your hips rolling. Your eyelids fluttered shut, allowing yourself to focus on movement rather than giving in to the urge to collapse his broad chest. You slowly lifted your hips up, then down, then up, until you were in a steady rhythm of bouncing on his cock. He moaned, hands gripping your waist softly and helping guide you up and down. You whimpered and whined at the feeling of his length pumping in and out of you, your core strength starting to falter as you felt yourself getting closer. 

“I’m… fuck…” You could barely get a word out, breaths getting shallower and shallower as you focused on chasing your release. 

“Cum for me, babe…” He mumbled slowly, feeling himself also getting close as your walls tightened around him. You did, almost immediately collapsing on top of him, head falling to his collar as you faltered around him. Feeling you squeeze around his length, he came, hands grasping around your back as you laid on top of him. You smiled, feeling his rough palms slowly start to rub soothing circles on your back as you both recovered. 

“My pretty cowgirl…”

↳a/n: my writers block is SO BAD :( i promise i will try to get to all my requests asap! this was in fact not a request but like... something possessed me and i needed to finish this draft. thinking so much about dean rn... ughhhh

[mizutsugi]

i need a hannibal washing will’s hair fic pretty please🙏

in safe hands ⊹ (hannigram)

↳request!

↳word count: 1,370

↳cw: sfw, mentions of blood/murder, non-sexual nudity

↳a/n: i had no idea what to do for this and then BOOM i was cooking on my laptop at like 1 am... this is vaguely inspired by when hannibal washed bedelias hair in s3, and also when will came to hannibals house that one time and had a "mild" seizure (i mean, he said it was mild)...hope this fulfills your vision! thanks for the request :)

Will looked down at his hands, trembling and drenched in crimson dried blood. He was shaking in a panicked state, unsure how exactly he ended up on Hannibal’s doorstep. He must have knocked, or made some sort of noise, because the door opened. Hannibal materialized in a white button up and slacks, appearing to have just started getting ready for bed. He observed the boy, shaking and disgruntled while covered in blood, and he ushered him in, glancing behind Will’s shoulder to make sure no one had seen him in such a state. Will entered the foyer, starting to stammer while Hannibal closed the door.

“I-I don’t… I don’t know how I got here.” Will stuttered out, unable to lift his gaze from his hands.

“You are covered in blood, Will. Do you know who it belongs to?” Hannibal asked, used to Will’s occasional lapses of time. He knew better to coddle him, but he still walked to Will and pulled his jacket off, leaving him in a blood stained flannel. Will didn’t even notice, but he had blood all over his clothes, face and hair, too. He reached up to Will's face and gently pulled his glasses off the bridge of his nose, watching him shudder both at the touch and the sight of more blood, spattered on his lens. 

“I… I don’t…Oh my god.” He stammered. He truly couldn’t remember what happened. He knew he was at a crime scene with Jack and Bev, but that was as much as his mind could draw back up. 

“Will…” Hannibal grabbed Will’s shoulders, attempting to ground him as he continued to shake like a nervous dog. “Will?” 

Will’s eyes flicked up to Hannibals, pupils blown in panic. 

“Follow me.” Hannibal ordered Will, letting go of his shoulders and walking towards his master bathroom. Will summoned all the energy he could expel to move his feet, shoes still laced to his feet as he shuffled behind Hannibal. Hannibal opened the door to his grand bathroom, marble tiles leading up to a porcelain tub. Will followed him in as he turned the tap on, plugging the drain and allowing the hot water pouring in the tub to gather at the bottom. Hannibal opened a glass vial of bath salts that was sitting on the edge of the tub, pouring them in. He turned to Will, who watched him with vacant eyes and was gripping his own shoulders, attempting to stop the tremors. 

“Can I undress you?” Hannibal asked, approaching him. Normally, Will would be extremely uncomfortable with the situation and give a firm ‘no”, but he wasn’t exactly himself at the moment. He watched steam rise from the tub, dancing in the air behind Hannibal’s back, and wanted nothing more then to wash every crevice of his body until he couldn’t feel the painfully tacky blood on himself. Just the thought of it momentarily stopped the impulsive movements under skin, and that brief feeling of peace was enough for him to nod his head in permission. 

Hannibal kneeled down, pulling at the tight laces on Will’s shoes until they came undone, allowing him to pull them off entirely. He then gingerly unbuttoned Will’s flannel until he reached the bottom of the garment, then pulled at the edges back until it fell off, leaving him in a plain white fitted tee. He then took the bottom of the shirt and pulled it upward so that it dragged up Will’s chest and over his face, leaving him only in his pants and socks. Hannibal pulled Will’s belt out of the loop, removing it with a tug. When he reached for the top of Will’s pants, Will’s hand flung to his own, holding it there and preventing further efforts to undress him. Hannibal looked up to Will, who was nervously shaking his head. Hannibal nodded in silent understanding, walking past the other and facing the wall to let him finish on his own. After a few moments Will was sinking into the tub, allowing the silky water to pour over his form. The salts colored the liquid a soft white, offering Will some peace in being relatively covered. Some of his dignity was left, after all.

To Hannibal, though, there was no indignity in being nude. Many of his drawings included the nude form, and it was never something that was inherently sexual to him. Either way, he waited until the sloshing of the water died and turned around, observing Will as his eyes locked on the tap, watching the water pour out of the nozzle. He knelt down beside the tub, turning the tap off once the tub was about three quarters of the way full. Will’s gaze remained glued forward, his mind still racing. He was unconsciously trying to regain some sort of memory, though it was yielding no results. Hannibal pulled a washcloth out of a nearby cabinet and squeezed some ivory body wash out of a nearby pump attached to the wall, allowing it to sink into the spongy material before dipping it into the water. He began to lightly drag the cloth up the exposed skin of Will’s shoulder, causing the other to jump at the impact. His trance broke, and he watched as Hannibal slowly cleaned him. 

“Will, I want you to try to remember what happened.” Hannibal asked quietly, dipping the now bloodied cloth back into the water before dragging it over the stiff muscle of Will’s back. Will closed his eyes, attempting to activate his mind enough to recall the past four hours. 

“I didn’t… I was at a scene in Reston. I was there to consult the case. There was… a family.” Will recalled, eyes remaining closed while Hannibal rolled up his sleeves to dip his hand into the tub, cleaning Will’s chest. 

“Were they already dead?” Hannibal prodded, gently scrubbing the dried blood off Will’s collar. He shuddered at the closeness, squeezing his eyes shut harder. 

“Yes, they um… They were killed. Murdered. By…” Will paused, mentally probing for a photo, a name, anything. Hannibal waited patiently, finishing cleaning his torso. He reached for another pump, shampoo falling into his palm. Will opened his eyes, watching as Hannibal lathered the shampoo in his hands. 

“It was a man. Uh, Henry. His name is Henry.” Will recalled, Hannibal digging his fingers in Will’s scalp. He groaned at the touch, feeling the digits drag over his head in a way that made his back slide down a bit, melting into the tub. Hannibal cupped his hand and dipped it into the water, pouring the liquid over Will’s head as he washed the red-tinted suds out of Will’s hair. 

“Was Henry there? Did you shoot him?” Hannibal asked, now reaching for the conditioner. The hair wash smelled like a light musk with a hint of barley, and as Will physically relaxed, he felt his memory slowly come back to him. 

“I…” He hesitated, not wanting to confront the truth that had suddenly hit him. Hannibal halted, holding his hands over Will’s head, waiting for him to confess. 

“I did.” He whispered huskily, and Hannibal, unphased, dipped his fingers back into Will’s hair. He ran his fingers through the small curls, delicately rubbing the silky-smooth conditioner into his scalp. 

“I need to go… I have to go back. I need to go.” Will gripped the edges of the tub, attempting to push himself out. Hannibal looped his fingers tightly into Will’s hair, keeping him stationary. Will’s heart raced with panic, but when Hannibal continued his massaging, he felt himself torn between complete peace and complete anxiety. 

“There’s no use going into the unknown without clothes on and soapy hair. Let me finish and I’ll come with you.” Will hummed, feeling drops of water falling down his forehead as Hannibal washed the conditioner out. “Jack will understand whatever you have done, especially if I am there to help explain.” Will nodded at the sound logic, allowing the other to finish cleansing him of the blood. Hannibal took care of him, knowing that whatever Will had done, he was acting in his best and truest nature. Knowing he chose to come to his door for protection meant that he already had.

↳a/n: for getting my second to last final done and whipping out an academic essay, my special treat was to write and post two fics in the same day... my mind is a WEAPON!! hope everyone is staying warm and having a lovely day/night <3

[mizutsugi]

some joel miller comfort pls… 🙏 maybe helping you through an anxiety attack or giving support after a rough day i am begging🙏

sweetheart ♡ (joel miller x reader)

↳request!

↳word count: 1,014

↳cw: sfw, g/n reader (minus a few pet names...), brief mentions of a panic attack, not proof-read

↳a/n: ate again w/ your request omg... how did you know i was already writing a hurt/comfort dean fic ... anyways thinking about joel a lot, he so.. rahhh <3

You wrapped your blanket around you tightly, trying your best to remember your breathing exercises through heavy sobs. You were alone in the cabin, huddled up on the couch in a fetal position in the dimly lit living room. You couldn’t even remember what started it all… maybe it was when you made yourself tea just to spill it all over your lap the second you sat down, maybe it was your lack of sleep, maybe it was reoccurring heavy thoughts that plagued your mind whenever Joel left and you were alone… maybe it was all those things at once, and then some. Either way, you were having a really awful day, and your first panic attack in months. Your cheeks felt dry from the endless stream of tears, and your breaths were shallow and hurt to take. 

You nearly jumped at the sound of the doorknob turning, heavy boots scuffing the worn wooden porch. Joel walked in, shrugging off his heavy brown coat and boots to leave him in a dark blue flannel and jeans. He put down his bag, mumbling about how dark it was in the house before turning on one of the lamps by the entryway. When the room was illuminated more, he saw you huddled on the couch, and noticed your muffled crying as you looked at him with glassy eyes. His heart fell, and he shuffled over to the couch and sat against your curled up feet.

“Hey…hey, sweetheart. What’sa matter?” He asked softly, concern worn on his weathered face as he hesitantly reached a heavy hand out to your shoulder. 

You just shook your head, sobs breaking out at his gentle touch and consideration. You knew he had just come back from scavenging with Tommy, and he was probably so tired and you were probably just being another burden and-

“‘S okay, hon, just breathe with me.” He said, taking a deep inhale, holding it, before letting it escape his lips. You took a big gulp of air, trying to stiphen the sobs enough to take a deep breath, and Joel nodded his head in encouragement. You stayed like that for a while, just following his drawn out breaths before you could finally feel your chest relax a bit. Once you calmed down a bit, Joel leaned down over you and slowly tucked his hands under your back, pulling you up so that he could hold you against his chest. His hands remained on your back, gently rubbing soothing circles over your sweater. He held you wordlessly, his warmth and scent of old leather and pine filling your senses, silencing your racing thoughts. 

“‘M sorry…” You mumbled against his chest, voice cracking a bit but steady. 

“Hey,” His hands gripped your waist and pushed you back a bit so he could look into your eyes, “Don’t apologize. Got nothin’ to apologize for.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, hand lingering gently on the side of your cheek. 

You nodded, watching his dark eyes trace over your face, his salt and pepper hair swept back from the wind. You still felt bad for burdening him, but you knew there was no use fighting it. 

“I’m glad you’re home…” You smiled, tears still staggering down your cheek. The thumb that was on your cheek rubbed them away as they fell, the rough pad of his finger dragging across your face. 

“Me too. I feel awful you were sittin’ here by yourself, tearing yourself up.” He mumbled lowly, still gently stroking your face.

“It’s really okay, I promise… just started spiraling, I guess.” You said, leaning into his touch.

He hummed lightly, understanding. He knew not to push you on it, knowing that you not going into details was to avoid stirring up the same feelings again. He pulled you into another hug, squeezing you tightly. The soft fabric of his flannel absorbed what remained of your tears, and your hands wandered up to his back to squeeze him back. You remained like that for a while, just wrapped in his arms, feeling the gentle rhythm of his breaths against your chest. 

He pulled away again, leaning down to kiss your forehead before slowly standing up, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m gonna make you some tea, doll. I found some chamomile somethin-or-another when I was out.” 

“Really? I tried to make some tea earlier, but I spilled it all over myself.” You said.

He chuckled a bit, getting up to search through his bag and find the tea. “Just one of those days, huh?” He said sympathetically. 

“Mhm.” You mumbled, unfolding yourself off the couch and into the kitchen to accompany him as he made your drink. You leaned against the counter, watching him as he put the kettle on. He set out a mug- your favorite- and pulled out a tea bag, placing it in it. He turned to you and walked over, noticing your tired eyes observing him. You looked like you were about to fall asleep standing up, still wrapped in your blanket and basically melting into the stone countertop. 

“Let’s get you to bed, sleepy-head.” He said, bringing a hand up to tousle your hair. You groaned, but smiled hazily, allowing him to guide you into your bedroom. He tucked his hand under your thighs and picked you up, carrying you the rest of the way and gently laying you down on your soft bed, cotton sheets enveloping you as you dipped into the mattress. He took another blanket and draped it across you, brushing your hair out your face again and leaning down to give you another light kiss on your forehead. 

“I’ll bring your tea to you in a bit.” He whispered, watching your eyes flutter. He smiled, knowing you’d be dead asleep before that tea ever finished brewing. 

“M’kay. Thank you, Joel.” You mumbled, humming at his touch.

“Mhm.” He grazed your cheek again, watching as you pulled the blankets closer to yourself, eyelids slowly drifting shut. He smiled fondly, wanting nothing more then to take care of you.

↳a/n: perhaps there was some projection in this fic... (yes yes there was).. anyways come home joel the kids miss you, i'm literally going crazy pleaseeee

[mizutsugi]

hi, you don't need to take this as anything of importance or to heart because at the end of the day this blog is for your enjoyment:

I'm a language nerd and studied Japanese in school and when it comes to your username, mizutsugi may be more appropriate in conveying the combination of mizumono and kintsugi as tsu is a different letter to su. mizutsugi would retain the meaning 'joining with water' as mizu means water (and mono is thing, thus mizumono is thing of water) and tsugi means joining with (and kin refers to gold). in contrast, sugi can mean after or past OR can refer to the Japanese cedar tree.

regardless, your username is lovely and the idea of 'past water' as a definition of mizusugi is also really interesting

hi there! this is actually so so cool, thank you for educating me!! i updated my user to be more accurate :) it’s so interesting how such a little thing changes the meaning, i think that it’s so cool and i am so so appreciative of you updating me!! “joining with water” is actually PERFECT, im really happy with it- thank you again <3

[mizutsugi]

I have a hc that Will bites/chews his lips and that Hannibal reopens the wounds when they kiss so he can taste his blood…. im going feral i need a fic of this plspls…

bittersweet ♱ (hannigraham)

↳request!

↳word count: 1,297

↳cw: blood (lotsss of blood), biting

↳:a/n: OHHH MY GOD you. are actually. so. fucking. brilliant. i love your mind and i love love love this request tysm, i literally saw it in my inbox and started kicking my feet and giggling tehehehehe… i hope i did your idea justice! <3

Will had a lot of nasty habits, and his job with the FBI only made them worse. When he was thinking and working on building his design, he’d pick at the beds of his nails, chew on the inside of his cheeks and worst of them all, bite his lips. Analyzing the same crime scene photos over and over again, the clock tick, tick, tick-ing in the later hours of the night while his eyes scanned the glossy photos… his teeth would pull on his lips, slightly biting into the flesh as he worked. Sometimes, when he was so lost in his recreation of the crimes, or so frustrated with a case, he’d forget his own limits and bite until a wound opened, blood pooling at the impact.

It was no different during the Simmons case. Jack had him and the team at a crime scene in a remote part of a hiking trail in Maryland, mulling over the mutilated corpse of a man. Everyone had stepped out of the scene to let Will, quote, “do his thing”. He closed his eyes and tried to envision himself as the killer, immediately seeing himself on the hiking trail, slowly following a man- white, in his late 20s, hiking alone- like a predator stalking its prey. He saw himself dressed in all black jogging clothes, keeping a steady pace behind, waiting for the perfect opportunity. A window opened in a particularly heavily wooded section of the trail, where he knew no one would see a thing. He began to run behind the man, who had headphones in, before pulling a blade out of his pocket and sleuthing behind the man before skillfully slicing his throat in one quick, deadly move. Blood began to spray out of the open artery, the man falling to the ground before he could even turn to see his killer. He died clutching his neck, attempting to stop what was inevitable. But why were his eyes missing…

Will snapped out his trance, feeling something hot dripping down his chin. He had opened another wound on his lip. He wiped the blood on the sleeve of his jacket and sighed before walking out of the crime scene to regroup with the others. 

-

It was around 8:30 pm when Will arrived at Hannibal’s home, rapping on the door of the grand Baltimore home he found himself too frequently on the doorstep of. Hannibal answered the door after a few moments, smiling fondly as Will walked through his foyer. Will pulled at the heels of his shoes and left them by the entryway, hanging up his winter jacket, leaving him in a dark grey flannel and cargo pants. 

“How is dear Jack?” Hannibal asked, leading Will into his kitchen.

“He’s Jack. I don’t know.” Will stated boredly. He wanted to leave work behind him, as if that was something that was at all possible for him. Hannibal pulled out a nice red wine with an antique label out of his wine rack, uncorking the bottle before pouring the liquid into two stemmed wine glasses he had already had set out on his kitchen island. 

“How are you, then, Will?” Hannibal asked, eyes flicking up to meet Will’s as he topped off the second glass. Though Will avoided eye contact whenever possible, he never seemed to have an issue looking into Hannibal’s. It’s something Hannibal never took for granted, maintaining the belief that eye contact was the polite thing to do when having a conversation with someone- even if one struggled with it. 

“You know better than to ask that.” Will chuckled, accepting the wine glass as Hannibal held it out to him. The room was filled with soft classical music from a distant record player and the rich scent of a hearty roast- one that was slowly cooking in the oven. The boy was impossible sometimes. 

“Yes, I suppose I do.” Hannibal smiled, accompanying Will as he leaned against the marble countertops of the island, watching the dark liquid in his glass spin and spin as he twirled the glass by its stem in his fingers. Hannibal was in a black vest and dark dress shirt, sleeves rolled up midway to his arms to undoubtedly keep them clean as he cooked. 

“It smells good. What’s on the menu tonight?” Will asked.

“A garlic and herb roast tenderloin with a rosemary butter sauce.” Hannibal stated.

“Mm.” Will hummed, closing his eyes to take in the scent, already imaging the tender meat and herbs on his tongue. Hannibal took the opportunity to extend a hand to Will’s face, his calloused palm landing on the scruff on Will’s cheek. He didn’t hold him like a fragile teacup, but rather with a firm hand like something on the cutting board before he would draw the blade down to slice into it. Will opened his eyes, now revealing his exhaustion as they were barely able to stay open. Hannibal leaned in, pausing for a moment to take in Will’s scent- still that terribly cheap aftershave- before connecting his lip to Will’s in a manner that was all too familiar. 

Something was abnormal about their intimacy. When Hannibal kissed Will, it felt wrong to even call it a kiss. Will often felt like it was beyond that, just like how Will wouldn’t call what they had love… it was something beyond that, too. It was complete and mutual understanding. Maybe that’s what Will would call this- an understanding. He felt Hannibal softly pull at his lips with his teeth, feeling his hunger breaking beyond the kiss. He felt a slight sting in the action, and remembered just hours ago when he felt a similar pang when he was nervously chewing on himself. He then felt embarrassment, and wanted to pull away, realizing Hannibal had reopened the scar and was now bleeding into his mouth. 

Hannibal immediately tasted the hot iron on his tongue, and if his eyes were open his pupils would have been blown. He had tasted blood before, obviously, but something was different taking it straight from the wound and into his mouth. It felt primal, and it felt raw. It might have even felt impolite, like a monstrous vampire. But Hannibal knew with Will, it wasn’t monstrous. It was sharing, arguably the most respectable thing to do. Folie à deux. Will tried to break away, hands slowly lifting up to Hannibal’s chest to brace himself. Hannibal, however, couldn’t break away, and he kept sucking on the wound, pulling the crimson straight from the scar in a way that felt oddly… pleasant. Will’s hands fell back down to his sides, and Hannibal’s grip on him began to falter. He reluctantly pulled himself away from the other, still lightly holding his face, now with both his hands.

“Do you feel lightheaded?” He asked lowly, briefly remembering that they were both mortals and that he wanted to protect Will- even if he needed to satiate a hunger that was beyond his control. His eyes didn’t leave the open wound on the inside of Will’s bottom lip, watching as it slowly pooled with more blood. 

Will, feeling himself oddly missing the sickeningly sweet sensation already, shook his head no, lip slightly parted as he tried to regain his breath. Hannibal gave him a moment, and then returned to the boy’s lips, sucking again at the broken skin. Will slightly moaned into the sensation, feeling his hands reach again for Hannibal’s chest, but this time to grip the fabric of his shirt before his knees buckled. Hannibal kept sucking, savoring the new flavor of freshly drained blood. Just like with all the worst sides of Will, Hannibal never wanted him to stop his bad habits that he tried to keep tucked away. They were addictive.

↳a/n: this is my first time doing a request and i already know it's the best one. you ATE with this idea! anyways sorry it was sort of short-tbh, i saw it going a nsfw route but i just couldn't think of anything... like to me, will and hannibal don't have sex... mizumono/wrath of the lamb was their ultimate version of intimacy to me, if that makes sense. anyways thank you so so much for the request, i love love LOVED it!