#but i thought of it while watching again for the third time

[mydearestdaryl]

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐚 (18+) ‧₊˚ ✧

Summary: Daryl needed some love and you gladly gave it to him. Warnings: TWD violence, gore, blood, character deaths, explicit language, smut (oral f receiving, unprotected p in v, simple aftercare). Not proofread. Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f! reader smut + fluff. Setting: Quarry. A/N: I read a post some time ago that said that Daryl in season 1 just needed some kisses to calm down and I couldn't agree more so I wrote this. It's also my first time trying to write smut, so I am so sorry if this sucks, and I was so hesitant to post it so please be nice lol. 😞

“Ha-ha, funny girl,” T-Dog deadpanned, rolling his eyes and suppressing a genuine laugh. It was the third bad joke you told in a row, and he was starting to find them funny.

“I really am,” you replied breathlessly, finally able to catch your breath after cackling at your joke.

“Okay, Eddie Murphy,” T-Dog, added jokingly, making you giggle as he placed a bunch of firewood you'd been helping him split for the past 40 minutes. “Let's head back.”

“I just thought of another one!” You exclaimed as you walked next to him. His groan of annoyance made you laugh before you even told the joke. “What do you call a fish with no eyes?”

“I. Don't. Know.”

“A fsh,” you replied after a dramatic pause, hardly able to contain your laugh as he gave you a side-eye, pressing his lips together to hold a smile back. “Please, I-” you started, but interrupted yourself as a commotion reached your ears from the camp. You recognized Daryl's voice.

Sharing a confused look with T, you both picked up the pace, coming into view with what seemed like a heated discussion between Daryl, Shane, and Rick, the man who joined the camp yesterday. You felt a little annoyed that they ignored T-Dog's request to let him tell Daryl, but oh well.

“Rick Grimes,” he introduced himself to Daryl.

“Rick Grimes,” Daryl mocked him, “y' got somethin' you wanna tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof hooked into a piece of metal,” Rick stated, apparently with confidence. “He's still there.”

You stayed in place, watching as T-Dog slowly took a few steps closer to the scene.

Daryl hummed as he turned around, pacing shortly before he spoke, “Le' me process this,” said he while turning to face Rick again, clearly growing irritated. “Ya' sayin' you handcuffed ma brother to a roof, and you left 'im there!” His veins popped as his voice got raspier as he yelled at the other man.

Rick gulped before admitting. “Yeah.”

Suddenly, Daryl tossed the squirrels he was carrying toward Rick, the latter swiftly dodging them before Shane jumped into action, tackling Daryl to the ground. Next, he pulled a knife from its holster, swinging it at the former cops, but being stopped in a matter of seconds.

In the blink of an eye, Shane put Daryl in a chokehold, while Rick snatched the weapon out of his hand. “Ya best let me go!” warned Daryl, struggling in Shane's grip as the cop brought him to the ground. You walked closer toward Carol as your eyes remained on the scene, but decided to walk to the other side as you noticed Ed was next to her.

“I think it's better if we don't,” Shane replied, almost mockingly.

“Chockehold's illegal,” Daryl added, face red from the struggle.

“'Kay, file a complaint,” If this situation was not so tense, you would've laughed. You did a little on the inside. Rick kneeled in front of the restrained man as Shane spoke again. “C'mon, man, can keep this up all day.”

“I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. You think we can manage that?” Rick spoke, trying to find Daryl's eyes. “You think we can manage that?” the cop repeated when no answer was obtained.

Panting and growling, Daryl grunted in agreement, finally getting Shane to release him; more aggressively than he should, if they asked you. Sitting up quickly, Daryl pointed at Shane warningly. Rick continued: “What I did was not on a whim,” he explained. “Your brother does not work and play well with others.”

“It's not Rick's fault,” T-Dog spoke up, his leg bouncing anxiously as he confessed. “I had the key. I dropped it.”

“Couldn't pick it up?” Daryl retorted. His voice was calmer, but you recognized in his stormy eyes a hint of grief. Nobody else cared about his brother when his brother was everything he had. You couldn't imagine how terrible this situation was for him.

“Well, I dropped it in a drain.”

Dropping his head, Daryl slowly got up, gathering his composure again. Anger returned to his expression as he walked past T-dog, “'f it's s'posed ta make me feel better, it don't,” glaring daggers at the 'culprit.'

“Maybe this will,” T went on to say, “I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him... with the padlock”

“It's gotta count for something,” Rick piped in.

Drying a tear as soon as it came, Daryl took a deep breath. “Hell with all y'all!” he screamed. “Jus' tell me where he is, so's I can go get 'im.”

“He'll show you,” Lori stated, staring into her husband's eyes. “Ain't that right?” Rick's eyes left his wife's after a few seconds, finding T-Dog's shortly before nodding.

“I'm going back,” he declared, almost solemnly, hands on his hips as his eyes met Daryl's again. The younger Dixon clenched his jaw before walking past everyone to get his crossbow and stomping to his tent.

You didn't notice you went behind him until Dale stopped you by grabbing your wrist. “What are you doing, honey?” the older man questioned. He'd always been kind and sweet to you, so you gently released yourself from his grip.

“He's upset,” you explained, and he seemed to understand as he nodded reluctantly, but understandingly. On your way, you grabbed your half-full water bottle, and slowly approached the edge of the camp, where the tent of the Dixon's was.

You found Daryl sitting on the chair outside his tent, shoulders hunched forward, fists clenched with anger as if grasping the last shreds of control. His head bowed low and his eyes were shut tight. You caught the way his body shook softly with quiet sobs. You stilled, not daring to interrupt this stolen vulnerable moment.

After another minute, he abruptly stood up, drying his tears before cursing loudly while kicking the chair he was sitting in. You were suddenly hesitant to approach him and decided to turn around and leave, but before you took one step, his voice reached your ears.

“Whaddaya doin' here?”

You took a deep breath before turning back around and walking up to him, your water bottle hanging from your hand. “I- uhm, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Merle, and-”

“Ya don' even like 'im,” he snapped defensively.

“No, I don't,” you confirmed, “but I like you, and he's your brother. Even if my brother would annoy the shit out of me before, I loved him, and... I'm sorry you're going through this, Daryl,” you took a few steps closer, eyes on the ground as you spoke before meeting his.

His gaze remained on yours, before studying your face, finding nothing but the truth.

He frowned deeper, angrily huffing out a breath before turning away from you to rant. “He's jus' so fuckin' stupid. Nobody can fuckin' stand him an' he can't keep 'is fuckin' mouth shut!” he yelled, pacing from left to right, hands dancing through the air practically independently, punctuating his words.

“Why he gotta be such a fuckin' pain in the ass? Not even when we gotta surv-” mid-sentence, your hands found his cheeks, and with utter sweetness your lips impulsively found his, silencing his words.

He stilled, hands slowly dropping to his sides, body completely tense.

You quickly pulled away, opening your eyes to find his eyes slightly wide and totally confused. Your hands left his face and you took a step back. Your eyes awkwardly looking anywhere but at him. “Fuck, Daryl, I'm so sorry,” you started, a knot of anxiety growing in your chest. “I don't know why I did that... well, I know why, 'cause I like you, but I shouldn't have, I'm- I'm so sorry, really.”

Your rambling was interrupted by his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to connect his lips with yours. This time he was more relaxed, and the kiss was slower. His hands slid down to gently grab your hips, pressing his body to yours.

Your arms snaked around his neck, dropping your water bottle, and allowing your lips to part when his tongue requested entrance. Exploring the taste of each other, time stilled for a moment, but you loved it. The kiss grew almost desperate and the grip on your hips got stronger.

Unhappy to pull away, but needing to do so to breathe, you found yourself gasping as his lips left yours. You smiled brightly, cheeks rosy, and he smirked while dipping his head. “Also, I brought you water,” you added, grabbing the bottle from the ground, and dusting off the little dirt that stuck to its side before handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he nodded, taking it from your hands before opening it, downing the liquid, and emptying the bottle.

“You're gonna find him,” you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder and a quick kiss on his cheek. He smiled and nodded once again, muttering a thank you. You sounded pretty confident as if you knew, which gave him the confidence when he left on the search for his brother later that day.

Everybody screamed as they tried to avoid or fight the walkers emerging from the thick forest. The evening that started so peacefully suddenly turned into the perfect scene of a terrifying horror movie.

Things moved fast and slow at the same time. It was a blur. Tunnel vision, solely focused on surviving and protecting your group, moving on automatic pilot as you dug your machete countless times into the head of those flesh-hungry monsters.

You didn't even notice when it ended, barely feeling a pair of strong hands gripping your shoulders. His voice sounded distant asking if you were okay over and over. But you couldn't answer, you weren't sure if you were okay, the adrenaline didn't let you feel your body.

His loud voice calling your name finally snapped you out of your trance. “What?” You asked, brows knitting in confusion.

“Were ya bitten? Are ya alright?” Daryl questioned, nealy manhandling you as he searched and scanned for bites or scratches on your neck, lifting the sleeves of your flannel to make sure the skin of your arms was intanct.

“I didn't get bit or anything,” you shook your head, still a bit gone.

Cupping your face to study your eyes, he quickly pulled you into his arms, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You felt finally safe now. You wrapped your arms around his torso, closing your eyes and hiding your face in his neck.

After everyone agreed to get some rest and leave the cleaning for the morning, Daryl offered to stay in your tent with you that night.

He helped you into your pajamas, and you cuddled for a bit as he told you what happened in Atlanta. Then you simply lay in silence. You played with his fingers and he watched you adoringly, rubbing soothing circles on your back with his free hand.

You looked up to find his eyes on yours. Gently he cupped your chin, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your hand went up to cup half of his face, returning the kiss with equal passion. It was almost needy but slow. It was like he needed the confirmation that you were both here and okay.

Tongues met in a slow dance, and his hands reached down to cup your ass, easily moving you to lay on top of him. You couldn't help but moan as your body completely pressed against his, but it also made you want to feel more.

His hands slid under your shirt, and you broke the kiss in need of oxygen, immediately latching your lips onto his neck, sucking and kissing. He hummed in satisfaction, which was all the confirmation you needed to keep going, but he stopped after a few moments, pulling his hands out of your shirt, and cupping your face again for you to look at him.

“You sure 'bout this?” he asked, his face stern as he waited for your answer.

You nodded hastily, licking your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

“'M sure,” he said without hesitation, pulling you onto his lap so you could straddle him. “Need ta feel ya,” he whispered in a husky voice, sending a shiver down your spine as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

His hands caressed the dip of your waist up and down under your shirt as you made out. You buckled your hips up unintentionally but did it again on purpose when you heard him moan into your mouth.

You were straight-up grinding into his hips before he pulled away from your mouth, “not yet, doll,” he whispered as he took your shirt off. His hands went to your breasts like magnets, kneading and massaging the curves shamelessly as he peppered your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses that trailed down to pop a tit inside his mouth.

Your clothed cunt clenched on air, as you closed your eyes and moaned, enjoying the attention, and you could feel his excitement tenting in his pants as well.

He slowly shifted the position, you back now on the mattress. After he decided both tits had been given enough attention, albeit still reluctant, his mouth trailed lower and lower, hands smoothly pulling your shorts and panties at the same time as his tongue and mouth kissed and licked the skin of your stomach.

His eyes met yours as he kissed your thighs, silently asking for permission to go further. “Please,” you whispered, surprising yourself by how needy you sounded, but then again, you did feel like you needed him right now.

He wasted no time, and in less than a second his mouth was latched to your clit. Tongue swirling on it and sucking, making you gasp. He used his whole face, pushing himself deeper and moving side to side as his tongue flicked over your sensitive pearl quickly. Hungrily. You arched your back involuntarily, fingers finding his hair to pull while simultaneously pulling him closer.

With a hand on your hip, he sucked a few more times before he licked a strip down to your entrance where his tongue began to fuck you. His thumb replaced his mouth on your clit, rubbing at the same speed as his tongue went in and out of you. You moaned and whimpered and cursed, trying to keep quiet, being apparently unsuccessful.

“Quiet, sunshine,” he whispered, his free hand reaching up to make you suck on two fingers to silence you, and you happily obliged. Your legs wrapped around his head as he continued his ministrations, the familiar knot forming in your stomach.

“Fuck, Daryl, I- wait,” your back arched further, legs pulling him closer, contradicting your plead as he moved faster and faster, changing again to suck on your clit and fuck you with his fingers. He hummed and the vibrations brought you closer. “So close.”

Your pitch was higher and higher, the knot tighter and tighter. All it took was a final, flick and suck of his tongue, feeling him moan against your cunt before pushing you over the edge into a shattering climax. The free hand covered your mouth as the other slowed down, prolonging your pleasure until your body relaxed and you came down from your high.

“Fuck,” you looked at him with hazy eyes.

“Fuck,” he said as a confirmation, looking down to see a damp spot on his sweatpants.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him into a kiss. He gladly kissed you back as you slid your hands under his shirt, trying to pull it up, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist.

“I-” he started, looking away from your eyes and knawing on his bottom lip. “I have- I....”

“You don't have to take it off, it's okay.”

“No, I wan' ta, jus'” he sighed, slowly taking the shirt off. He was thankful his back was away from you. At least you wouldn't have to see those yet. “My dad... was a drunk,” he reached to touch, kind of trying to hide, one of the scars on his shoulders, but you gently pushed his hand away, tracing the scar with your fingertips before looking up at him. You smiled and kissed him shortly, before kissing the scars on his shoulders.

“You're so strong,” you whispered.

His heart was beating fast but in a good way. His lips found yours again as he settled himself between your legs. Your now-familiar mouths found a rhythm as he started to pull his sweatpants and boxers down.

His erection hit your thighs making you pull away. You bit your bottom lip at the sight; he was thick, and the size was a bit on the bigger side. “All for you, baby,” he whispered, as he pumped himself a couple of times.

He rubbed the tip on your clit and entrance, spreading your and his juices all over your cunt again. “Ya ready?” he asked, slapping your cunt with his dick gently. You nodded. “Nah, need ya to speak up.”

“Please, Dar, I'm ready. I need you.”

He hummed in satisfaction, leaning to prop himself up with his forearms around your head, kissing your cheek, before slowly pushing into you. You moaned and he groaned. You were wet and ready enough, so the stretch felt like pure bliss for both of you.

He grabbed both your hands with one of his and pinned them above your head, starting to move when you wrapped your legs around his hips. “Feel so good, doll.”

He started slow, savoring the moment but also nervous to hurt you. But soon, he picked up a rhythm and started moving faster. Your boobs bounced beneath him as he kissed and worshipped your neck and breasts. You felt so deliciously full as he thrust up into your tight, dripping heat, moaning and whimpering underneath him.

He was in heaven, eyes inevitably closed as he made love to you, but he wanted to keep them open to look at you. To him, you looked like a work of art just like that.

“Harder,” you breathed, and he obliged. Your skin met over and over and the sounds filled your tent. He grunted, reaching down to rub on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you. “Oh, right there,” your voice was getting higher, letting him know you were close. “Don't stop, fuck, please, don't stop.”

“I won', baby. I gotcha,” he moaned. His thrusts became more and more urgent, each one hitting that sweet spot that made your body arch and your toes curl. If your hands weren't inside his gasp you'd be grasping the sheet beneath you. With one last flick of your clit, you shattered.

His mouth claimed yours to silence your cries of pleasure. Pure ecstasy filled your body, and prolonging your high, Daryl continued moving inside you, until he, too, reached his peak, quickly pulling out and releasing himself on your stomach.

Spent and breathless, he collapsed next to you, who was in the same state as him. Your body tingled with the remnants of your passion, and you couldn't help the smile on your face as he kissed your face lazily.

Your eyelids were too heavy to notice when he pulled a little rag from somewhere and cleaned you up, then you felt him put your clothes on again, and his too. All too relaxed, you nestled into his embrace as he pulled you into his arms, both falling asleep in a matter of seconds.

[tastesousweet]

Can we get a toxic!babydaddy Matt fic like I’m craving something about my man like it’s been days and I haven’t eaten

⭒ blurb : toxic!bd matt who . . .

toxic!babydaddy matt x poc!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, dad!matt (i understand if u don’t fw it), idk what else :P

mickey speaks: this is kinda different for me so ty for the req!! ik this is just a little headcannon set but i hope you luv this anon 💐

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . brings some girl he’s been “hanging out with” to your daughter’s third birthday party just to piss you off

he’d then get mad when you ignore him and his “friend” the entire party…

he’d come up to you as you watch your daughter play on the decorated playground from afar, “the fuck you bein’ petty for, y/n? i thought we were cool with seeing other people?”

“well i just think it’s rude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone else. i don’t care who she is or what you two do it’s annoying from a planning perspective.”

“that’s my bad… you look good though,” he’d glance around for a second before coming behind you and hooking his arm on your neck.

he’d whisper in your ear while you both stare out at your lively daughter, “can’t believe she’s so big now… lookin’ just like her pretty mama.”

you’d roll your eyes and shoulder matt off of you, “matt, go fuck on the bitch you brought here. and stop saying shit like that to me.”

“jesus- watch your language there’s kids everywhere, y/n.”

you blankly stare at him and his cocky smirk that just aggravates you to pieces, “go awayyy, matt.” you whine out and pinch your eyes with a sigh.

and he laughs because everything’s a fucking joke to him.

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . your friends hate but you will always have a soft spot for, he is your daughter’s father after all

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . sends hundreds of roses to your doorstep for mother’s day

when you text him a picture of the ridiculous bouquets with a “????” he immediately facetimes you, “for the best mama in the whole world. you like ‘em?”

you shake your head and hide a smirk beneath your hand to scold him, “you do too much, matt.”

“uh huh i knew you’d say that…” he’d then ask to see his favorite girl, “now where’s my baby at?”

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can’t mind his business to save his life. he’s always asking you questions about your personal life; and you always shut him down

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can sometimes be a little too desirable when he drops your daughter off at your place (dressed nicely, smelling good, eyes bright yet droopingly eye-fucking you, etc), leading you to invite him in for a glass of wine or two

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . you sometimes find in your bed again when you feel particularly lonely and nostalgic

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . loves the few times he gets to to wake up to his daughter pulling on his hand and you by his side, fast asleep

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . tends to start arguments from the smallest things to get you to talk to him longer than you need to

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . will always put effort into being a great father (which you respect) despite never putting that same effort into your relationship

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . makes sure you’ll never forget he loved you first and is connected to you far deeper than any other man ever could be

[hxlda-hxlda]

sunday morning snippet!! it's 12AM so it counts for sunday!!

“My mum would have a fit,” Sirius said sort out of nowhere. 

He was listening, he was. But then his mind had half-drifted off, thinking of conversations at dinner tables where he was forced to wear the dress robes with the too-tight collars and well, okay, maybe Sirius had lost track of all of the words a little while ago. 

Remus stopped reading aloud immediately, looking up. “What?” he asked, lacking his usual irritation when interrupted. 

Remus wore a rarely open expression. One that drove Sirius to continue, saying something he otherwise might not have. Maybe if the sun was in a different position or if it was a Wednesday instead of a Saturday, or maybe if it was James instead of Remus, or maybe if it was two o’clock in the afternoon instead of five o’clock. Maybe if any single thing had been different Sirius might not have continued the thought, which pressed at his ribs with a steady ache — a bruise begging to be pressed. 

“Queers, poofs, whatever.” Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “My mother would throw a fit knowing we’re reading a novel by one of them.” 

Remus’ face remained as blank as ever, if not for the slight crease in his forehead. 

“She thinks they’re about as bad as mudbloods,” said Sirius, getting to his point after a bit more time had passed. That was about all there was to his point, but it felt significant for some reason. His heart was thundering loudly in his ears. Sirius wondered vaguely if Remus could hear it with his freaky hearing, then realised he probably could. 

“What about you?” Remus asked quickly, watching Sirius intensely. 

Sirius found looking at Remus to worsen the state of his rapidly beating heart as nervousness, or something, worked its way up his throat. Sirius swallowed, finding Lupin’s gaze too intense. He preferred the sight of his already half-picked thumbnail. He scraped at his thumb a bit more, swallowing again. 

“Well, y’know, I don’t think mudbloods are all that bad. Evans is alright when she takes the quill out of her arse for three seconds, I guess.” 

Sirius heard a snort of laughter that helped him relax his shoulders some. He continued speaking to his torn thumbnail.

“So… how right could she be about the rest of it, y’know what I mean?” Sirius said it quickly, as though it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to tell. It felt like a secret, in some odd way. 

He was met with a silence that immediately made his heart lurch again. He forced himself to glance up, just enough to catch Remus’ eyes. Shockingly, Sirius found that they’d softened. They were far less intense, and even the crease between his eyebrows had disappeared. He was looking all, well, soft. It was a funny sort of look for Remus, Sirius thought. It suited him, yes, but not in the way his usual stoicism did. 

“What?” Sirius asked after a while, feeling sheepish under the prolonged eye contact. 

“Nothin’,” Remus replied immediately. 

“No, no, what?” Sirius shuffled closer on the couch cushions, so close their knees were centermetres from touching. “You have to tell me now. You know how I get when you keep all your little secrets.” 

Remus huffed. “Insufferable,” he said with a shake of his head. 

“Exactly! Insufferable.” 

“This is classic manipulation, you know, threatening poor behaviour like this?” 

Sirius shrugged, quirking a smile. “Yes, well, I did have to learn some things from my mother, didn’t I?” 

Remus shook his head again, pretending not to laugh in that way he did. “I was just thinking,” he said after a beat. 

“About?” 

“About how you’re brilliant.” 

Sirius’ throat immediately felt thick. “What?” 

“Dunno.” Remus somehow managed to avoid and catch Sirius’ eyes simultaneously. They were caramel in the afternoon sun, his favourite kind of sun for Remus’ eyes. “Just… dunno how someone so awful made you. And– and you’re so good.” 

Sirius blinked rapidly, swallowing once then twice then a third time to try and rid himself of the lump in his throat. His cheeks burned, his throat, his eyes. He ducked his head. 

“Oh,” he said stupidly. And then, “You’re not so bad yourself, Lupin,” he coughed out, having to first compose himself enough to do so. 

“Shove off.” 

“Go on,” Sirius said, wiping at his eyes as surreptitiously as he could manage. “Read more of the book written by the poof. Maybe I’ll write a report for good ol’ Walburga.”

tagged by my abosolute darling @fiddleleafedfig ! it's a bit longer than a snippet, but i was scrolling through my docs for something and stumbled upon it. it was too cute not to use.

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 18 - Something Wicked

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Comment with your handle/username if you want to be added to a tag list so you can be notified everytime I update.

________________________________

Third Person POV

"Yeah. Because you guys probably missed something, that's what" Dean says to Sam and Y/N, discussing a possible case as he drives down the empty road. Sam riding shotgun while Y/N lounges in that back. "Dude, we ran LexisNexis, local police records, newspapers. Couldn't find a single red flag" Sam explains to him defensively. "Are you sure you got the coordinates right?" Y/N pipes up from the back, leaning forward in between the boys.

"Yeah. I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. F/N wouldn't have sent coordinates if it wasn't important, guys" Dean assures them. Y/N sighs, leaning back, crossing her arms over her chest as she worries about her father and John. "Well I'm telling you? We looked. All we found was a big, steamy pile of nothing. If Dad and John are sending us to hunt for something, I don't know what" Y/N says defensively.

"Well maybe they'll meet us there" Dean says. Sam chuckles humorlessly as Y/N scoffs. "Yeah. Cuz they've been so easy to find up to this point" Sam says sarcastically. "You two are real smartasses, you know that?" Dean retorts at them. The younger hunters just shake their heads in annoyance. "Don't worry, I'm sure there's something in Fitchburg worth killing" Dean assures them.

"Yeah? What makes you so sure?" Y/N asks him. "Well, because I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right" He counters, flashing her a wink in the rearview mirror. "No, it doesn't" Sam scoffs. "It totally does" Dean gives them a cheeky smile. "Dean, you're the most childish of the three of us" Y/N says dryly, Sam nods in agreement as Dean chuckles at her point.

"I'm still older" Dean counters again. Sam and Y/N roll their eyes, not bothering to argue. "Whatever man" Sam waves it off as Dean smirks to himself, now passing the sign leading into Fitchburg, Wisconsin.

Fitchburg, Wisconsin

"Well" Y/N says, walking to the boys who're leaning on the Impala outside of a coffee shop. She hands them each a coffee as she continues. "The waitress thinks that the local Freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, nobodys heard about anything weird going on" She informs them.

"Dean, you got the time?" Sam suddenly asks Dean. We look at him confused as he stares intently at the playground we're parked across from. "Ten after four" Dean responds after looking at his watch. "Why?" Y/N asks Sam. "What's wrong with this picture?" He nods towards the practically empty playground, only a few kids running around and it dawns on her.

"Schools out, isn't it?" Dean voices her thought. "Yeah" Sam responds. "So where is everybody?" I question. "This place should be crawling with kids right now" Sam says in agreement. Y/N and Dean decide to approach a mom sitting on the bench across from the monkey bars. "Sure is quiet out here" Dean says casually. The mom looks up at at, "Yeah, it's a shame." She says sorrowfully.

"Why's that?" Y/N asks curiously. "You know, kids getting sick. It's a terrible thing" She says, me and Dean share a look at this. "How many?" Dean asks. "Just five or six, but serious. Hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching" She informs them. "Hmm" Y/N responds, her mind racing about these kids getting sick.

________________________________

Y/N's POV

Later, the boys and I are walking into the hospital, dressed in our formal wear. The boys in their suit and ties while I'm in my white blouse, black blazer and pencil skirt. My hair neatly pinned back, opposed to its usual state. "Guys, Im not using this ID" Sam complains, holding up his fake ID to us.

"Why not?" Dean asks him. "Because it says 'bikini inspector' on it" Sam argues and  I bite back a snicker. "Don't worry. She won't look that close" I assure him. "Hell, she won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence, Sammy" Dean adds as we walk down the hall, towards the reception desk.

Dean then turns him quickly to face the receptionist. We walk up a bit further, where we can hear them still. "I think she's gonna ask you know" I whisper to Dean. "I'm counting on it" Dean whispers back, a mischievous smirk on his face. I chuckle softly, shaking my head. Sam had a bit of a panicked look on his face but quickly recover. "Hi. I'm Doctor Jerry Kaplan, Center for Disease Control" Sam says professionally.

"Can I see some ID?" The receptionist asks. Me and Dean are listening from not too far and snort in amusement, sharing looks as we hold back our laughs. Sam turns back to glare at us lightly, before turning back to the receptionist and giving her a smug look, going into his jacket back. "Yeah, of course" He says, planting a fake smile on his face. He then shows her the ID quickly.

"Now, could you direct me to the pediatrics ward, please?" He asks him. "Okay, well just go down the hall. Turn left. Up the stairs" She says, Sam gives her a grateful smile before walking back to us. His smile dropping to an angry glare in me and Deans direction. "See? Told you it'd work" Dean says playfully. Sam rolls his eyes as I snicker. "Follow me, it's upstairs" Sam tells us, ushering us upstairs.

While walking upstairs, Sam is ahead of us. Me and Dean notice an old woman with gray hair in a room, sitting on her wheelchair. Her back to us. She slowly turns her head to us, a grim look on her face. My breath hitches when I notice a cross turnt upside down on the wall above her.

I nudge Dean lightly and gesture to it. His eyebrows raised at this, while the woman gives us a cold murderous look. "Dean. Y/N." Sam calls out to us, our gazes snapping back to him. He's a few feet away from us and he gesture for us to catch up with him. We share a look before following behind Sam.

We finally met up with the doctor in charge of the Peds ward. "Thanks for seeing us, Dr. Heidecker" I thank the doctor sweetly. "Well, I'm just glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself" Dr. Heidecker says. "How'd you find out anyway?" He asks us curiously. "Oh, some G.P. I forget his name. He called Atlanta and must've beat you to the punch" Dean lies casually.

"So you say you've got six cases so far?" Sam asks him as we walk to the room where their quarantining the kids. "Yeah, yeah. Five weeks. At first, we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy" The doctor explains as I look at the sick children on the beds. Their eyes dark with circles, tubes in their noses to help them breathe, paler than snow. My heart aches at the sight.

"But now..." The doctor trails off. "Now what?" I ask him concerned. "The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are wearing out" He explains. "Excuse me, Dr. Heidecker?" A nurse approach him as Sam asks.

"You ever seen anything like this before?" Sam asks as the nurse hands the doctor a clipboard. "Never this severe" Dr. Heidecker says sighing. "The way it spreads, that's a new one for me" The nurse says. "What do you mean?" I ask her. "It works it way through families, but only the children, one sibling after another" She further explains, the boys and I share a look before Dean turns to her.

"You mind if we interview a few of the kids?" He asks her. "They're not conscious" She sighs sadly, this shocks all of us. "None of them?" I ask surprised. "No" She says, shaking her head. "Can we, um. Can we talk to the parents?" Dean asks her. The doctor and nurse share a look, "If you think it'll help" Dr. Heidecker says. "Yeah, yeah. Who was your most recent admission?" I ask him.

"I should get back to my girls" The dad of two little girls says sadly as we attempt interview him. I give him a sympathetic nod with a small smile, taking a seat next to him as the boys stand infront of us. "We understand that, and we really appreciate you talking to us" I say calmly, offering him a kind smile.

"Now you say Mary is the oldest?" Sam asks him gently. "Thirteen" The man answers. "Okay. And she came down with it first, right? And then-" Sam asks him. "Bethany, the next night" The man answers, this shocks me again at the rapid spread-age. "Within 24 hours?" I ask him and he nods. "I guess" He shrugs before sighing.

"Look, I already went through all this with the doctor." The man begins to get a bit frustrated. "Right. Now, just a few more questions, if you don't mind" Dean attempts to reassure him. "How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold? Anything like that?" He asks the man but he shakes his head. "No, we think it was an open window" The man responds.

"Both times?" I ask him. He thinks for a bit before answering, "The first time, I don't really remember. But the second time, for sure. And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed." He says. "So you think she opened it?" Sam asks him, a bit confused.

"It's a second story window, no ledge. No one else could've" The man informs us. We nod and thank him for his time before leaving. "Thank you sir" I say sweetly, the boys following behind me.

"You know, this might not be anything supernatural. Might just be pneumonia" Sam suggests to us as we walk down the hall. "Maybe. Or maybe something open that window" Dean says. "I don't know fellas, the way these kids are getting sick so quickly. It's running through families and not by random. It's fishy" I say honestly. Dean agrees with me.

"Dad and F/N sent us down here for a reason. I think we're barking up the right tree" Dean says. "I'll tell you guys one thing" Sam says, we turn to him. "What?" Me and Dean ask in unison. "That guy we just talked to...I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes him" Sam says, a slight smirk on his face. We all share mischievous looks as Dean chuckles lightly.

________________________________

Later, after going through hospital records and getting the man's address, we're all in his daughters room, scanning and investigating. Sam with the black light, Dean and I with the EMF meters. "You two got anything over there?" Sam asks us as he scans the wall with the black light.

"No, nothing" I respond, slightly frustrated. "Nada" Dean responds. "Yeah, me neither" Sam sighs, equally frustrated. He then goes over to the window, scanning it. "Hey, Dean, Y/N?" He calls out to us. "Yeah?" We respond as he opens the window, looking down. "You guys were right. It's not pneumonia" Sam says, we take out EMFS off and walk to the window.

A handprint, that's literally rotted into the wood of the window sill. The fingers were abnormally long. "It's rotted" I point out, grimacing at we look down at it. "What the hell leaves a handprint like that?" Sam mutters. I notice a look of pain on Deans face when Sam says this, almost as if he's reminiscing on something.

Third Person POV

Flashback to the 80s'

In a dusty old motel room while waiting for his father and his fathers best friend/hunting partner, F/N L/N, to get ready to go on a hunt, a nine year old Dean Winchester is staring at a picture his father took on a hunt of a handprint, rotted into wood, the fingers abnormally long.

John and F/N step into the room. "Alright. You know the drill, Dean. Anybody calls, you don't pick up" John begins to list off the rules to his son, his tone a bit gruff. "If it's me or f/n. We'll ring once and then call back, you got that?" John reminds him as F/N rests his bag of weapons on the table.

"Mhm, don't answer the phone unless it rings once first" F/N instructs. "Mhm" Dean responds, nodding a bit lost in his mind. "Come on, son. Look alive this stuffs important" F/N urges him gently, patting him on the shoulder. Dean sighs. "I know, it's just. We've all gone over it, like, a million times, and you guys know I'm not stupid" He says.

"We know you're not, but it only takes one mistake. You got that?" John says, authority in his tone. All the young child could do is nod firmly at his father. F/N notices the way John is talking to Dean and felt a little bad. Getting down onto one knee to look at Dean, "Alright, if we're not back Sunday night-" He begins gently.

"Call Pastor Jim" Dean finishes his request. F/N gives him a proud smile, which Dean returns before patting him on the head. "Lock the door, the windows. Close the shades" John instructs Dean. "And most importantly?" He adds. "Watch out for Sammy and Y/N/N" Dean responds with a curt nod in understand.

He then turns to look at his little brother and y/n. The pair of best friends on the couch, watching Thundercats as they giggle, pointing at the old crummy screen. "I know" Dean nods. "Alright. Something tries to bust in?" F/N tests him.

"Shoot first, ask questions later" Dean answers. "That's my man" John says proudly, patting Dean on his shoulder. "Keep this with you." F/N digs into his bag to Dean a shotgun. "Only use it if necessary" F/N says sternly, pointing a finger at him in a fatherly way. Dean nods curtly. F/N then gets back up, following behind John.

The two vet hunters lock the door behind them and Dean turns the locks. He then looks over at Sam and Y/N who have goofy grins on their faces. He smiles at them slightly, knowing that if Y/N wasn't here, a smile wasn't sure to be on Sam's face as he was always a quiet kid.

But whenever his Dad and F/N went on hunts together and Y/N was around. Somehow with her ray of sunshine ass, she would make the boys happier. Whether it's by cracking a stupid joke or just being herself.

Present Time

"You okay, charming?" Y/N's gentle concerned tone snaps Dean out of his reminiscing. The pained look in Deans face concerned her. She placed a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly. This breaks him out of his train of thoughts, coming back to reality as he just relived that memory. He nods before saying, "I think why they sent us here" He says, a conflicted look on his face.

Y/N and Sam look at him confused. His nerves start to flare when he turns to them. "They've faced this thing before. And they want us to finish the job" Dean gulps as he says this, then after he explains to them what exactly they're dealing with.

________________________________

The three hunters pull into the '2400 Court Motel', Dean drives in and parks in the closest spot to the office. "So what the hell is a Shtriga?" Y/N asks Dean as they all jump off of the car, throwing her bag over her shoulder. "It's kind of like a witch, I think. They don't know that much about them" Dean says, going to the trunk to open it.

"Well I've never heard of it, neither has Y/N and it's not in Dads journal" Sam says. "Dad and F/N hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin about 16, 17 years ago." Dean informs them as he packs some stuff into his bag and zips it up. Y/N crosses her arms over her chest as she listens. "You guys were there. You don't remember?" Dean asks them.

"No" they respond in unison, shaking their heads. "I guess they caught wind of things in Fitchburg now, and kicked us the coordinates" Dean mumbles. "Wait, so this..." Sam begins, forgetting how to pronounce the creature's name. "Shtriga" Y/N answers. "Right. You think it's the same one they hunted before?" Sam asks him. Dean closes the trunk after taking out his bag. "Yeah, maybe" He says, walking to the room.

Y/N and Sam follow behind. "But if Dad and John went after it, why is it still breathing air?" Y/N asks Dean, knowing that John and her dad would never leave a hunt unfinished. "Because it got away" He simply answers. "Got away?" Sam says shocked. "Yeah, Sammy. It happens" Dean turns to them.

"Not very often" Y/N remarks. "Well I don't know what to tell you. Maybe Dad didn't have his Wheaties and F/N didn't take a smoke that morning" Dean says jokingly, Y/N snorts at the joke slightly but narrows her eyes at him. His defense behavior sending off red flags in her head. He knows more that he's letting on and he can't hide that from her.

"What else do you remember?" She asks him suspiciously. "Nothing. I was a kid, alright?" He says defensively, opening the door and walking in. Sam and Y/N share a look, "He's a terrible liar" Sam comments, shaking his head as he leans against the Impala. "No kidding" Y/N snorts dryly, leaning next to Sam.

She pulls out her pack of cigarettes from her jacket, taking one out and bringing it to her lips. Then digging into her pocket for her lighter. She flicks the lighter, inhaling the smoke into her lungs through her mouth and out her nose. A feeling and sensation of calmness engulfing her as the nicotine enters her bloodstream, the taste of tobacco staining her tongue.

She notices Sam's stare at her actions, "Want a pull, Sammy?" She jokes, he smiles chuckling. He contemplates for a second, "Why the hell not?" He shrugs, taking the cancer stick from between her fingers. He brings it to his lips, taking a pull. The smoke gets caught in his throat, causing him cough a bit as he exhales due to the fact that he practically never smokes unless he's drunk.

She snickers at her best friend as he coughs, his face turning red as she pats and rubs his back. Catching his breath, he hands her back the roll. "Note to self, only offer you when you're drunk" Y/N chuckles as Sam catches his breath. "Shut up" He grumbles, a bit embarrassed, but the two laugh about it.

Dean rings the bell at the counter and out comes a young boy, no older than 10 comes out and leans on the counter. "King or queens?" He asks Dean. "Three queens" Dean responds with a smile. The little boy looks out at Sam and Y/N, Sam coughing up a lung and Y/N rubbing his back as he coughs the smoke out.

"Yeah, I bet" The boy scoffs lightly, mumbling to himself. "What'd you say?" Dean realizes the kid was mumbling, getting defensive. "Nice car" The kid covers up his insult as the door opens, a woman walking in with a stack of papers. "Hi" She greets Dean. "Hi" Dean responds. "Checking in?" The woman, Joanna, asks him kindly.

"Yeah" Dean answers. Joanna smiles and then turns to the young boy, "Uh, do me a favor. Go get your brother some dinner" She tells the boy, now indicating it's her son. "I'm helping a guest" The boy says defensively. Dean smirks at the kid as his mother gives him a typical, 'Do what I said' look. "Three queens" The boy says bitterly, walking off as Dean chuckles.

"Funny kid" Dean says. "Oh, yeah. He thinks so" She chuckles as she sorts a room for them. "Will that be cash or credit?" She asks. "Do you take Mastercard?" Dean asks her. "Mmhm" she responds. "Perfect. Here you go" Dean places the card on the table as she hands him the clipboard to sign in.

He then looks over at the young boy and his little brother. The boy begins to pour some milk into a glass for his brother, this takes Dean back to an old memory of his.

Flashback to the 80s'

Dean pours two glasses of milk, handing one to little Sammy and little y/n/n. She takes the glass into her tiny hands, holding it between both her palms, taking a sip along with Sam before innocently asking. "When's daddy and Mr. Winchester gonna get back?". Dean gives her his usual answer as he goes to the stove, grabbing the pan of Scabetti Ohs, "Tomorrow" He tells her. "When?" Sam presses.

"I don't know. They usually come in late, though. Eat your dinner" Dean says as he pours some of the spaghetti into Sam's bowl and then Y/N's. "Thank you, Dean" She thanks him softly, smiling. He returns the smile, "You're welcome" He responds softly. "I'm sick of scabetti ohs" Sam groans as Y/N happily eats up her dinner. "Well, you're the one who wanted them" Dean says a bit frustrated.

"I want Lucky Charms" Sam argues. "There's no more Lucky Charms" Dean lies. "I saw the box" Sam points out. Dean rolls his eyes. "Okay, maybe there is. But there's only enough left for one bowl, and I haven't had any yet" Dean argues. Y/N takes in the banter between the two brothers as she chews contently at her food.

Feeling bad, knowing that Dean probably hadn't eaten all day but won't want to eat the spaghetti. Sam gives his brother his classic puppy dog eyes, the one he uses to get out of any situation or to get his way. Dean sighs and goes to take the bowl of scabetti ohs to throw them away. "Don't throw it away. I'll eat it" Y/N stops him.

He nods, taking up a spoon and gently putting it in her bowl. She mumbles a slight thank you, her head buried in her bowl as she eats before Dean gets the Lucky Charms from the cupboard and a bowl. Resting it harshly down on the table between the two kids, Y/N jumps slightly at the impact, not expecting him to rest it down so hard.

"I'm sorry princess, I didn't mean to scare you" Dean mumbles softly, his tone apologetic. "It's fine, charming" She assured him, a slight blush raising to her chubby cheeks at the nickname Dean has always called her by. Sam picks up the cereal box and reaches into it, taking out the toy, "Do you want the prize?" He smiles innocently, handing his older brother the toy.

After a few hours, Sam is already asleep but Y/N was getting restless, she decides to ask Dean if it's okay for her to go to the vending machine and get a soda. "Hey Dean?" She calls for his attention, Dean turns his head from the couch where his eyes was focused on the tv. "What're you doing up? Go to bed" He orders her gently.

"Can I go for a soda? I know it's late but I can't get much sleep" She says sweetly, hoping she could persuade him. He sighs, narrowing his eyes at her. "It's late, y/n/n" He says firmly, but she pouts, mustering up her puppy dog eyes that she thought Sam to perfect. He shakes his head and gives in,

"Okay okay, just be quick." He instructs her. She smiles widely, cheering. "Yayy! Thank you. I'll be quick" She assured him, grabbing her coat and her 10 dollar bill her dad left her incase, walking out of the room.

After about 15 minutes she got back, a bag in her hand with soda, snacks, Lucky Charms and milk. An excited Y/N closes the door behind her as a worried sick Dean who was pacing around the room whisper yells, "You said you were going to the vending machine!" He whisper yells. "Chill out dude. I got you something" She whispers back, pulling out the Lucky Charms from the plastic bag.

Dean is shocked when she does this, "I got this for you" She smiles, handing him the cereal. "You- what?" He's stunned, staring at the boc in his hand. "Dad leaves me a bit of cash sometimes, just incase we run out. I knew you probably didn't eat all day and wanted the cereal. So I went to the convenience store, which was right across the street next to the arcade before you yell at me, and got you the Lucky Charms" She explains, hoping he isn't mad.

The look in Deans eyes alone, it was almost as if he wanted to cry, the gesture of her just getting the cereal alone made his heart swell. Y/N was too kind and thoughtful to him and Sam. She was a kid herself but still made the best of any situation in anyway she can. He rests the cereal down and leans down to engulf her in a bear hug.

"Thank you, princess" He says gratefully. Her tiny arms wrap around his shoulders as she buries her face into his neck, squeezing him just as tightly. "You're welcome, charming" She says softly, when they let go of the hug, she gives him a toothy smile, her cheeks pink with blush.

"Shhh, don't tell Sammy" She whispers jokingly, putting a finger to her lips. She then puts out her pinky, gesturing for him to swear on it. "I won't" He whispers back, locking his pinky with hers, smiling widely.

Present Time

"Sir?" Joanna's voice snaps Dean out of his reminiscing. "I couldn't get you three queens. We only had two, would that be fine or would you like a room with two queens and separate single with one queen?" She asks him. His eyebrows shoot up at this, "Uh, two queens would be fine" He answers, clearing his throat.

Guess they're gonna have to rock paper scissors to see who gets a bed to themselves. But secretly Dean is hoping he has to share a bed with Y/N. Dean sighs, smirking to himself slightly as Joanna hands him the room key. "Thanks" He says before calling Sam and Y/N in.

"Bad news, someone's gonna have to share a bed" Dean tells them as they walk to the room. They groan in annoyance, "Couldn't you have gotten me a separate room?" Y/N grumbles. "Booked up" He lies, she narrows her eyes at him suspiciously but takes the bait. "Fine, Me and Y/N first and then winner against Dean" Sam puts up his fist to play rock paper scissors against Y/N.

"We're not kids, Sam" Y/N glares at him, he gives her a knowing look. She rolls her eyes and drops her bag, obliging, she puts her fist up. "God please, don't let me share a bed with Sam. He punches in his sleep" She grumbles to herself, causing the boys to laugh. "I do not!" Sam says defensively, she scoffs rolling her eyes.

"I've had black eyes to prove it. Multiple!" She retorts exasperatedly, pointing to her eye, making Dean snort and Sam chuckle. Dean silently prays that Y/N loses. Rock, Paper, Scissors SHOOT. Sam hits paper and Y/N hits rock. She groans in annoyance as Sam celebrates in victory. "Dammit!" She curses. Dean snickers as him and Sam now put their fists up. Rock, Paper, Scissors SHOOT.

Sam hits rock as Dean hits scissors, purposely. "Dean, always with the scissors!" Sam exclaims triumphantly, taking the keys from Dean to open the door. "Guess it's me and you tonight princess" Dean grins at her widely, wiggling his eyebrows at her. He rests an arm around her shoulder as they walk into the room, Sam rests his bag on the bed, arms wide, plopping belly first onto it.

"Don't get any ideas, Winchester. I'll neuter you in your sleep" She joke threatens, pushing him away lightly and his arm off her shoulder. He erupts in laughter at her empty threat. She walks over to their bed and sits on the edge of it, resting her bag on the ground. Sam then opens up his laptop to begin his research along with Y/N taking out hers to get started.

A little later, Sam is nose deep in research about Shritgas, Y/N is falling asleep on herself with a book in her hand on the bed while Dean is making coffee for them. "Well, you were right" Sam says to Dean. Y/N jumps up slightly, the book falling out of her hand, causing the boys to chuckle, "Huh? What?" She says dazed with sleep, drool running down the side of her mouth.

She wipes it off with her sleeve, yawning. "Here. Caffeinate." Dean chuckles, handing her the cup of coffee. She mumbles a soft thank you, taking the warm cup between her palm to heat her body up a bit from the cold air in the chilly room. "What did you find?" She asks Sam, sipping the coffee. "It wasn't very easy to find, but Dean was right. A Shtriga is a kind of witch" He tells them.

"They're Albanian, but legends about them date back to Ancient Rome. They feed off of spiritus vitae" Sam explains, reading from the article on the laptop. "Spirit what?" Dean cocks his eyebrow in confusion. "Vitae. It's Latin. It translates to 'breath of life' " Y/N pipes up using her knowledge on languages, thanks to Bobby. "Yeah, that's right. Kind of like your life force or essence" Sam adds.

"Didn't the doctor say the kids bodies were wearing out?" Dean points out. Sam and Y/N agree. "It's a thought. You know? She takes your vitality, maybe your immunity goes to hell. Pneumonia takes hold" Y/N suggests, "Makes sense." Sam agrees, creasing his lips. "Anyways, Shtriga can feed off anyone. But they prefer-" Sam says.

"Children" Dean finishes his sentence for him. "Man that's just sick" Y/N grimaces in disgust. "Probably because they have stronger life force." Sam suggests. "And get this: Shtriga are invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man" Sam tells them. "So how're we gonna kill the son of a bitch?" Y/N asks.

"That's not right. She's vulnerable when she feeds" Dean says, going into the bag next to Y/N. They look at Dean in confusion at this. "What?" Y/N asks him. "If you catch her while eating, you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron. Buckshots or rounds. I think." He explains to them, unzipping the bag to take out his Dads journal.

"How do you know that?" Sam asks him. "Dad told me. I remember" Dean lies, sitting at the table as he flips through the journal. Y/N picks up on this and cocks her eyebrow at his poor attempt of a coverup as she sips her coffee. Resting it down on the night stand, she asks. "Oh. So uh, anything else John or dad might've mentioned?" Y/N asks him suspiciously.

She leans back on the bed, crossing her arms over her chest as Sam looks at him unconvinced. "No. That's it" Dean says casually. Sam and Y/N share a look and Dean notices this. "What?" He asks them, feigning confusion. "Nothing" Sam dismissing, both him and Y/N shaking their heads. He sighs and closes the tab on the laptop, getting up.

"Okay, so assuming we can kill it when it eats, we still gotta find the thing first. Which ain't gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting" Sam says as he goes over to the coffee maker to pour some of his own. "What kind of human disguise?" Y/N asks him. "Historically, something innocuous. It could be anything, but it's usually a feeble old woman, which may be how the whole witches as old crimes legend got started" Sam explains.

Deans gaze snaps to Y/N when he says this, his mind going to the old woman they say in the hospital. Y/N's gaze snaps up from the paper she had in her hand of the victims addresses. They look at each other in realization, "Hang on. Take a look at this" Y/N says, getting up from the bed.

She hands Dean the paper. "Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far. And dead center.." She points to the x's she marked on the map, corresponding to the houses of the victims.

"The hospital" Sam says. "The hospital. When we were there, me and Y/N saw a patient, an old woman" Dean points out as Y/N nods. Sam looks at the two, smirking a bit. "An old person, huh?" He asks them. "Yeah" They respond. "In the hospital?" He says in a tone of mock disbelief.

They look at him in annoyance, "Whoo, better call the coast guard" Sam says sarcastically in a mocking tone, chuckling. "Shut up dude!" Dean defends and Y/N rolls her eye. "Well listen, smartass. She had an inverted cross hanging on her wall" Y/N tells him, his smile fading. "Oh, now you're quiet wise ass" Dean rolls his eyes.

________________________________

The three hunters make their way down the hall to the old woman's room. "Goodnight Doctor Heidecker" They hear a nurse greet the doctor, backing into a corner quicker to conceal their presence. "See you tomorrow Betty." He greets her back with a smile. "Try to get some sleep" She says kindly as the victor makes his way past the hunters, not noticing them as their backs are turnt to him.

They make sure the coast is clear before walking back down the hall, toward the old woman's room. They approach room 237, Sam peering his head to look into the little glass opening on the door to make sure there's no one inside but the old woman. Dean and Y/N draw their guns, making sure it's loaded.

Cocking it, they give Sam a nod. Sam slowly opens the door, revealing the old woman in her wheelchair, her back facing them. They creep in lightly, making sure not to be too loud as Sam closes the door gently behind them. Dean and Y/N tiptoe up to the woman while Sam draws his gun. The woman looks to be asleep, so they lean in warily.

When suddenly, she turns her head to them in a rapid motion, "Who the hell are you?!" She yells. Scaring the crap out of all of them, Dean and Y/N jump back into the wall with the inverted cross in shock and fear. "Who's there?!" The woman yells. "You trying to steal my stuff?! They're always stealing around her" She grits her teeth angrily as Sam turns the light on.

"No, uh, ma'am. We're maintenance. We're sorry. We thought you were sleeping" Sam quickly lies, his tone shakily. Dean and Y/N try to catch their breaths. Running their hands over their faces. "Uh, nonsense. I was sleeping with my peepers open" The woman says cackling. "And fix that crucifix, would you?" She says bitterly.

Dean and Y/N's eyebrows cock at this, turning to look at the cross behind them. "I've asked four damn times already" She says angrily, Dean touches the cross and it instantly flips back over into place, dangling on the wall. Sam looks at the both of them in amusement at the situation that just occurred.

________________________________

The Impala pulls into the parking lot of the motel the next morning. Sam exits laughing as Dean and Y/N slam their doors annoyed. "I was sleeping with my peepers open?" Sam quotes the old woman's words, laughing hysterically. "Man, we almost smoked that old gal, I swear" Dean groans. "It's not funny" Y/N grumbles, embarrassed.

Sam still laughs as he opens the motel room door, "Oh man. You should've seen your faces" Sam cackles, wheezing in hysterics. "Oh yeah, laugh it up "We're back to square one" Y/N says as she rolls her eyes. Dean notices the young boy from the motel lobby, Joanne's son, sitting on a bench in the lot looking distraught.

"Hang on" He tells Sam and Y/N, walking over to the clearly worried kid. They follow behind him confused as he gets down, stooping to the boys level, Y/N notices the kid's worried expression and asks, "Hey, what's wrong hun?" She asks him gently. "My brothers sick" He tells them, his eyes watery and red from crying all night.

"The little guy?" Dean asks him shocked. The boy nods. "Pneumonia. He's in the hospital" He tells them, Deans face dropping. Y/N's heart sinks from hearing this. Sam gives the young boy a sympathetic look. "It's my fault" The boy says. "Oh, come on. How?" Dean asks him, feeling sorry for the kid that's blaming himself.

"I should've made sure the window was locked. He wouldn't have gotten pneumonia if the window was latched" The boy sniffles. This rings off bells in all of their heads. They all share a look of suspicion at this. "Listen to me. We can promise you that this isn't your fault sweetie. Okay?" Y/N assures the young boy gently, her tone soft.

He turns to her, teary eyed, "It's my job to look after him." The boy says firmly. Dean can't help but feel a sense of familiarity at the boy's protective nature, he nods understandably, knowing exactly how the boy was feeling. Sam and Y/N notice the look of recognition in Deans eyes.

Joanna exits the motel in a rush with a pillow, hospital bag and teddy bear in her hands "Michael" She calls out to her son. He instantly goes over to her as she opens the Jeep. "I want you to turn on the 'no vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service. So don't bother with any of the rooms" Joanna instructs Michael. "I'm going with you" Michael insists

"Not now, Michael" Joanna says exasperated. "But I gotta see Asher" He pleads. "Hey, Michael" Dean cuts in. "Hey, I know how you feel, okay? I'm a big brother too...but you gotta go easy on your mom right now, okay?" Dean advices him gently. "Damn it!" Joanna curses as she drops her bag and keys.

"It's okay, I got it" Y/N says helpfully as she and Sam stoop down to pick up the bag and keys. "Here" Sam says, offering her a small smile, Y/N doing the same. "Thanks" She says gratefully, taking the items. Still shaken a bit by her tone. "Listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital?" Dean offers.

"No? I couldn't possibly-" She goes to deny, feeling bad but Dean cuts her off. "No, it's no trouble. I insist" Dean presses. She sighs, nodding as she hands him the keys to her Jeep. "Thanks" She says as Dean takes it before giving her son a kiss on the head. "Be good" She says to Michael, jumping into the passenger seat.

Dean closes the door for her before looking at Michael with sympathy, anguish in his eyes. "We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?" He says firmly to Sam and Y/N before walking off to the drivers side, jumping in and driving off.

________________________________

Sam and Y/N are at the library doing research. Sam is deep in thought as Y/N chews on a granola bar. "This is some dark shit" She sighs as she skims through the dreadful articles. "You're telling me. The mind-fucking shit I'm reading right now. This thing is sick" Sam grimaces in disgust as he reads the research.

"Something's off about Dean, don't you think?" He says, making Y/N's gaze snap over to him from her computer. "Yeah, he's acting weird about this case. Weirder than usual" She says, swallowing the snack. "Maybe it's the kid. He did relate a lot to the fact about being a big brother also" She suggests, shrugging, though not convinced by her suggestion.

"Yeah...maybe" Sam sighs, typing in the computer. She frowns and then digs into her pocket for her phone, the bar in her mouth. She dials Deans number and puts it on speaker, scooting closer to Sam so he can hear. "Hey sweetheart" Dean answers softly. "Hey. How's the kid?" She responds in concern. "He's not good" He tells her, looking back at the sick kid in the hospital room where he's in.

"Where you at?" Dean asks her. "I'm at the library with Sam" She tells him. "Hey. We're trying to find out as much as we can about this Shtriga" Sam now speaks into the phone. "Yeah, what do you guys got?" He asks him. "Well, bad news. I started with- uh. Fort Douglas, around the time you said Dad and Mr. L/N was there" Sam begins to explains.

"And?" Dean asks. "Same deal. Before that, there was uh...There was Ogdenville. Before that, North Haverbrook and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years it hits a new town" Y/N explains as she chews. "Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitchburg. In all these other places, it goes on for months, dozens of kids before the Shtriga finally moves on. Kids just languish in comas and then they die" Sam says, his tone sad.

Y/N's heart hurts as they explain all of this to Dean. "How far back does this thing go?" Dean asks, just as hurt by the case. "We don't know. Earliest mention I could find was this place called Black River Falls back in the 1890's" Y/N says, squinting her eyes as she reads the article. "Talk about a horror show" She mumbles, clicking through the pictures of the article.

Sam sees a familiar face when she skips through the pictures of an article saying, 'Doctors Battle Mysterious Ailment'. "Whoa whoa, go back" He straightens himself from his seat. She does so, going back a couple pictures. "Right there" He points out, stopping her. "Holy fuck" Y/N gasps when her eyes land on the familiar face, her mouth agape. Her granola bar slips out of her hand and onto her lap as they stare at the picture.

"No fucking way" Sam gasps, just as shocked. "Sam? Y/N? What's wrong?" Dean asks them. "Hold on, we're looking at a photograph right now of a bunch of doctors standing around a kids bed. One of the doctors is Heidecker" Sam tells him, still in shock. "And?" Dean asks them. "And this picture was taken in 1893" Y/N says, realization dawning on Dean.

"You're sure?" Dean asks them. "Yeah. Yeah, absolutely sure" Sam says. Deans face is stoic as he hangs up the call, turning to the Dr. Heidecker behind him who's caressing Asher's head gently as a concerned Joanna looks on. Heidecker gets up, resting a hand comfortingly on Joanna's shoulder, Deans jaw clenching at the monster infront of him.

"Don't worry. Your sons in good hands. I'm gonna take care of him." Heidecker assures her. "So, what's the CDC come up with so far?" Heidecker asks Dean as he tries to not glare at him and pop him a bullet on sight. "We're still working on a few theories. You'll know something as soon as we do" Dean tells him, trying to remain calm.

"Well, nothings more important to me than these kids. Just let me know if I can help" Heidecker says, leaving the room. "I'll do that" Dean grumbles, clenching his jaw angrily.

________________________________

"We should've thought of this before. A doctors a perfect disguise. You're trusted. You can even control the whole thing" Sam rambles on about the Shtriga, the trio now back in the motel room. Dean grunts in anger, peeling off his jacket. "That son of a bitch" He growls. "Honestly I'm surprised you didn't draw on him right there" Y/N says equally angry, shaking her head.

Dean scoffs, wiping the back of his neck with a towel, "Yeah well, first of all. I'm not gonna open fire in a frigging pediatrics ward" Dean says, tossing the towel aside. "Good call" Sam snorts. "Second, it wouldn't have done any good. This bastards bulletproof unless he's chowing down on something." He adds.

"And third, I wasn't packing, which probably is a really good thing because I probably would've just burned a clip in him off the principle alone" Dean says exasperated. "You're getting wise in your old age, Dean" Y/N commends jokingly. "Damn right" He smirks, flashing her a wink.

"Because now I know how we're gonna get it" He says confidently. The two look at him confused, "What do you mean?" Sam asks. "The Shtriga works through siblings. Right?" Dean asks. "Right" Y/N confirms. "Well, last night-" Dean begins and gives them a look, realization hitting them. "It went after Asher." Sam says. "So you're thinking tonight it's gonna come after Michael" Y/N says and he nods.

"Then we gotta get him out of here" Sam says urgently. "No, that would blow the whole deal" Dean says, they look at him in disbelief. "What?!" Sam exclaims. "Yeah" Dean says. "Then you wanna use that poor kid as bait?" Y/N says baffled. He gives her a look, "Are you nuts, dude?! No. Forget it. That's out of the question" Sam dismisses.

"It's not out of the question, guys. It's the only way. If this thing disappears, it could be years before we get another chance" Dean argues. Y/N glares at him, infuriated at the fact that he'd want to use a kid as bait. "Michael's a kid! And we're not gonna dangle him infront of that thing like a worm on a hook!" Y/N snaps.

"Dad and F/N did not send me here to walk away!" He snaps back. "Send you here? They didn't send you here, they sent us here!" Sam retorts. Dean rolls his eyes, turning away, "This isn't about you two. Alright? I'm the one that screwed up! It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me!" He bellows.

Y/N's face drops at this, still confused as to why Dean is blaming himself. "What are you saying, Dean? Tell us, how is this your fault?" Sam says confused. Y/N notices Dean's swarm of emotions. Guilt, anger, hatred. She moves closer to Dean and places a hand on his shoulder, gently. "Hey, look at us" She says calmly.

He tears his eyes from the window it's focused on, back to her. His expression softening when his eyes bore into hers. "Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go." She says gently. "Since when do dad and John bail on a hunt? Since when do they let something get away?" Sam adds. She drops her hand from his shoulder lightly as Dean turns, taking a seat on the bed they shared.

"Now, talk to us, man. Tell us what's going on" Her tone is soft, encouraging. She takes a seat next to him. In that moment, Dean allows the dam to break, he spills the beans of that faithful night about his encounter with the Shtriga. "Fort Douglas, Wisconsin" He begins, staring into the distance. "It was the third night in this crap room and I was climbing the walls, man. I needed to get some air."

Flashback to the 80s'

Dean sits at the couch, eating the cereal Y/N got for him, watching his cartoons. He's getting restless after being packed in that room for so long. He sighs, placing the empty bowl next to him on the table and gets up from the couch. He turns off the TV before grabbing his coat and headed over to the door.

He takes one look back at Y/N and Sam who are asleep on the bed in the room. Sam on his back, arms spread out. One of his hands rest ontop of Y/N's face, most likely from accidental punching her in his sleep again. While Y/N is on her side, one hand under her head supporting it, mouth wide open like Sam's. He chuckles as their awkward sleeping position before opening the door, locking it from the outside.

"Kid" A worker in the arcade calls out to Dean who's playing at one of the machines. "We're closing up" He informs him. Dean nods, heading back to the motel room that was next to the arcade. He opens the door and locks it behind him, his heart dropping when he sees an unfamiliar light coming from Sam and Y/N's room.

He gently pushes the door open to see a hooded figure leaning over his sleeping brother, ready to suck the life force out of him. He gulps fearfully, picking up the gun that F/N gave him that was sitting against the doorframe. He aims it at the monster, cocking the gun. It snaps up when it hears the cocking of the gun and lets out a inhumane roar.

Dean hesitates to shoot, still in shock when F/N and John come bursting through the door. "Get out of the way!" John yells at his son, running over to his younger son, shaking him awake as F/N empties his clip into the monster. Dean hides behind the door, still shaken with fear. The monster narrowly escapes through the locked window, breaking the glass when it crashes through it.

The commotion causes Y/N to scream, jumping awake when she hears the sound of glass breaking. "Sammy? Sammy? Sammy?!" John holds his son in his arms. "Y/n/n, y/n/n? Baby, y/n/n!" F/N runs over to his daughter. "Daddy, what happened?" Y/N asks her father shakily, tears welling up in her eyes. "You okay?" John asks Sam who's still confused.

"Dad, what's going on?" He asks his father sleepily. "You alright?" F/N sobs, stroking his little girls hair as she cries into his. All she could do is note. John holds Sam closely as F/N holds Y/N tightly, both sighing in relief at the fact that it didn't get to hurt either of their babies. Dean rests the gun down, guilt etched on his face as he walks back into the room.

"What happened?" F/N asks Dean. "I just went out" Dean timidly tries to explain. "What?" John grits his teeth at his son. "J-just for a second. I'm sorry" Dean stutters, trying to apologize as he swallows the lump in his throat. John glares at Dean angrily, "I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let them out of your sight!" John bellows.

"Hey hey, they're okay. Y/n/n and Sammy are okay" F/N tries to calm John down a bit but he still glares at Dean. F/N looks over at the young boy, disappointed at the fact that he didn't follow their orders. But is still grateful they made it back in time by the grace of god before anything worse happened.

Present Time

Sam and Y/N take in the story, both sitting on either side of Dean on the bed, speechless at everything he just told them. "They just grabbed us and booked." Dean says as he finishes the story. "Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away. By the time they got back to Fort Douglas, the Shtriga disappeared. It was- it was just gone" He explains, his tone sullen.

He takes a deep breath, "It never resurfaced until now." He says, chuckling dryly. "You know, they never spoke about it again. I didn't ask. But they..." Dean continues, tears welling up in his eyes. Y/N's heart breaks as he talks, a lump forming in his throat from the way this is clearly affecting him.

"Dad looked at me different, you know?" He says, turning to Y/N. "Even your dad, he couldn't look me in the eye, Y/N" He adds. She gives him a sympathetic look, tears welling up in her eyes. He breaks eye contact with her, trying not to cry. "Which was worse. Not that I blamed them. They gave me and order and I didn't listen. I almost got you two killed" Dean blame himself.

"You were just a kid" Sam tries to assure his brother gently. "Don't" Dean says firmly. "Dean..." Y/N says softly, placing a hand on his thigh comfortingly. His gaze falls to her hand, tears threatening to make its way down his cheeks at the comfort just a simple touch from her brings to him. She uses her pointer finger to lift himself face by the dimple below his chin to look at her, his watery emerald eyes piercing hers.

Deans breath hitches in his throat by this gesture. "It's not your fault. We don't blame you. You were a kid. We all were kids, no kid should have that kind of responsibility" Y/N assures him, her tone gentle. "It's still my job. It's my job to protect you two. And I failed" Deans voice cracks at this, Sam and Y/N shake their heads. "We're here, aren't we?" Sam adds, offering Dean a small smile.

"They knew this was unfinished business for me. They sent me here to finish it" Dean clears his throat. "But using Michael. I don't know, Dean" Sam says unsure. "I mean, how about one of us hides under the cover, you know? We'll be the bait." Y/N suggests. Dean sighs, shaking his head. "No, it won't work. It's gonna get close enough to feed. It'll see us" He tells them.

They both sigh in defeat. "Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid" Dean says. He takes Y/N's hand that's still resting on his thigh and gently places it down next to her, getting up. His back turnt to them, a pure look of pain and anguish on his face as he recalls the events of that night, over and over in his head.

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"You're all crazy! Just go away or I'm calling the cops!" Michael yells at them terrified while clutching the landline at the counter after they explained the Shtriga situation to the kid. "Hang on a second. Just listen to me. You have to believe me, okay?" Dean pleads with the young boy. "This thing came through the window, and it attacked your brother." Dean continues, but Michael still hesitates.

"Now I've seen it. I know what it looks like, because it attacked my brother once too" He further explains. Michael then puts the phone down, still a bit on edge but it seems to have eased his mind a bit. "This thing, is it like, like...? It had this long, black robe?" Michael asks them.

Deans breath hitches. "You saw it last night, didn't you?" Y/N asks him gently. Michael looks down in horror. "I thought I was having a nightmare" He admits. Dean and Y/N share a look at this, "I'd give anything not to tell you this...but sometimes nightmares are real" Dean tells him.

Michael looks confused, "So, why are you telling me?" He asks the three hunters. "Because we need your help" Dean admits. "My help?" Michael asks them. "We can kill it, me and them, it's what we do. But we can't do it without you" Dean explains, gesturing to Sam and Y/N. "What? No" Michael stutters fearfully.

"Sweetie, listen to me. This thing hurt Asher and it's gonna keep hurting kids unless we stop it. Do you understand me?" Y/N chimes in, giving the boy a sympathetic look.

"Well, that went crappy" Dean groans after Michael said no to helping them. The three now back in their room. "Now what?" He asks Sam and Y/N. Sam sitting on his bed and DY/N sitting on theirs, absolutely stumped. "What did your expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid" Sam scoffs.

That's when they hear a knocking on the door, Y/N moves over to open it, revealing Michael. Sam and Dean stand behind her, surprised to see the young boy, "If you kill it, will Asher get better?" He asks them. Y/N looks back at Sam and Dean. "Honestly hun, we don't know" Y/N says truthfully.

Michael then looks over to Dean, "You said you're a big brother?" He asks him. Dean steps forward, next to Y/N. "Yeah" He answers. "You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?" Michael asks him. Dean nods, "Yeah, I would" He admits, his tone heartfelt. Y/N look back at Sam with a smile, Sams expression mirroring Y/N one.

"Me too" Michael says. "I'll help" He obliges.

________________________________

Later that night, Dean is setting up a camera in Michaels room that's synced to Y/N's laptop to catch the Shritga in action. "This camera has night vision, so we'll be able to see as clear as day. Are we good?" He calls out to Y/N to confirm. "Hair to the right" She responds for him to shift it a bit which he does.

"There, there" Sam stops him so it's angled directly at Michael's bed. "What do I do?" Michael asks Dean, "Just stay under the covers" Dean advices him, taking a seat next to him on the bed. "And if it shows up?" He asks him. "Well, we'll be right in the next room. We're gonna come in with guns. So as soon as we do, you roll off this bed and you crawl under it" Dean instructs him.

"What if you shoot me?" Michael questions a bit worried. "We won't shoot you. We're good shots. We're not gonna fire until you're clear, okay?" Dean assures him. Michael nods and pulls the covers closer, "Have you heard a gunshot before?" Dean asks him. "Like in the movies?" Michael queries. Dean sighs, "It's gonna be a lot louder than in the movies. So I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears and do not come out until o we say so, you understand?" Dean informs him.

Michael still looks hesitant and terrified, "Michael, are you sure you wanna do this? You don't have to, it's okay I won't be mad" He asks the young timid child, "No? I'm okay. Just don't shoot me" Michael says. "We're not gonna let anything happen to you. Promise" Dean ensures him.

"What time is it?" Dean asks as they look at the  live surveillance from Michaels room. Y/N checks her watch. "It's three" She tells him. "You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?" Sam asks him. "Consecrated iron rounds. And, yeah, it's what F/N used last time" Dean tells him. "Hey Dean, I'm sorry" Sam apologizes sincerely.

Dean looks at him confused, "For what?" He questions. Sam sighs, "you know, I've really given you a lot of crap for always following Dad and F/N's orders. But I know why you do it" Sam says in a heartfelt tone. "Oh, God. Kill me now" Dean groans, making Y/N and Sam chuckle. "Such a beautiful moment, we should totally have a sleep over and braid Sams hair after this" Y/N says in a high girly tone to lighten the mood, the two other hunters chuckle at her humor.

Her eyes snap to the screen when she sees a bit of movement on it, her expression switching to a serious one. "Wait, look" She whispers. The boys look closely at the screen to see a claw like hand sliding the window open. They all draw their weapons, cocking their guns.

While a terrified Michael sits at the bed, wide awake as the hooded figure looms over him. "Now?" Sam asks for the signal. "Not yet" Dean says. The figure moves closer to Michael as they look on, the video footage then begins to distort. Michael cringes in horror as it moves closer to suck the life force out of him.

"Hey!" Sam yells as the three burst into the room. "Michael, down!" Dean instructs him loudly, Michael then dives below the bed. As he does this, the three hunters then begin to empty their clips into the Shtriga. It falls to the ground and let's out an inhumane growl of pain. "Hun, you alright?" Y/N asks him. "Yeah" He responds shakily from under the bed.

"Just sit tight" Dean instructs him, moving over to the Shtriga. Sam and Y/N follow behind, aiming their guns at him to make sure he's dead. He seems to be so Dean turns back to them and nods. When suddenly the Shtriga grabs Dean by his throat in a flash. "Dean!" Sam and Y/N yell in panic as the Shtriga launches Dean into the wall.

They go to shoot again but it knocks their guns away and throws them both into the wall behind them. It strangles them both, opening Sams mouth to begin to suck his life force out. Sam begins to go weak as Y/N squirms underneath him, gasping for air. "No!!!" She screams, trying to get out from him but he's too strong. She tries to reach for her gun but it's too far away.

"Hey!" Dean calls out for the Shtriga. It turns to Dean as it's sucking Sams life force, with that Dean shoots it point blank in the forehead. Killing it for good this time. "You okay, guys?" He asks them. They both give him a weak thumbs up, getting up onto their feet. They look over the now dead Shtriga, white mist coming out of its bullet wound. Dean shoots him a couple more times for good measure.

This allows even more mist to swarm out of its body, the mist being the life force of the other kids it sucked out of. Michael then peeps out from under the bed. "It's okay, Michael. You can come on out" Dean tells him, he then gets up, a small smile on his face at the fact that it's over. And his brother will be okay. Dean pats his shoulder happily, a smile on his face.

________________________________

After the hunt, they were all exhausted. They decided to catch a couple of hours before hitting the road. The sun is beginning to rise in their room, the rays peeping through the window shades and onto Sams face. His eyes flutter open, groaning from the sunlight burning his eyes. He pushes himself up from his bed and throws his blanket off of him.

Then raking a hand through his bed head as he yawns, a smile creeps onto his face when he takes a look over at Dean and Y/N's bed. Deans arm was draped around Y/N's waist, his other hand under his head to support it. His nose nuzzled into the back of her hair at her neck while he back to pressed against his chest in a spooning position. One of Y/N's hand was dangling off the bed while her other hand rested right above Deans hand that was draped around her waist.

Sam had to stop himself from audibly cheering at the sight. So to savor the moment, he quickly takes his phone out to snap a picture at the cute moment, so he can tease them about it later on. He gets up from his bed and begins packing. A couple minutes later, Dean begins to stir in his sleep. He practically shoots up when he notices his position. Sam, who was basically giggling at Deans reaction as he folds his clothes.

This causes Deans gaze to snap over to his annoying little brother, "Not a word out of you, you hear me?" Dean grits his teeth, pointing at Sam. Who's still giggling. "I didn't say anything" Sam puts his hand up in surrender. Dean rolls his eyes but then freezes when he feels a shift in his pants. "Oh fuck" His mouth agape as he stares at his gaping erection tenting through his grey sweatpants.

"Son of a bitch....Son of a bitch!" He peels himself from the bed and dashes into the bathroom while covering his crotch with a towel. When the cold shower turns on, the pressure harder than usual, Sam realizes what's going on and snorts loudly. His eyes tearing from from laughter. "Don't take too long in there stud, she might think you're-" Sam teases his older brother.

"Shut the fuck up, Sam!" Dean yells embarrassed from the bathroom. This causes Y/N to stir in her sleep at their loud banter. "Man, what the hell are you two idiots yelling about this early?" She groans in annoyance, taking Deans pillow and stuffing it over her head. She's not aware of the situation that just played out, due to the fact she's very grouchy in the morning.

"Get your ass up sleeping ugly, we gotta go" Sam teases her, tossing a pillow at her head. It bounces off and onto the floor. "Ughhhh, five more minutes!" She groans childishly. Sam chuckles at this as Y/N forces herself off the bed, sleepily rubbing her tired eyes with her fingers. Dean exits the bathroom, a towel around his waist since he forgot to carry his clothes inside.

A blush rises to Y/N's cheeks at the sight of a shirtless Dean but she clears her throat. "What time is it?" She asks them. "After lunch" Dean informs her, looking down at his watch. She then sighs and grabs her towel from her bag to make her way lazily to the bathroom. When the shower turns her, she allows herself to smile.

She's always seen Dean shirtless but these past few weeks, since she admitted to herself that she has feelings for him. It's just been different, she felt more drawn to him. She can't explain it but she continues to tell herself to get her shit in check because she's not gonna allow her feelings to mess up their mission. Find the thing that killed their moms and kill it. Sounds easy enough. Right?

Meanwhile Sam is giving Dean a smug look as he puts his clothes on, "Seriously dude, stop looking at me like that" Dean groans as he slips his shirt on. "I never said anything man" Sam chuckles as he finishes packing his stuff. Dean rolls his eyes, "You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?" He narrows his eyes at his little brother as a laces his shoe up, smirk on Sams face as he throws his bag over his shoulder. "Nope" Sam responds, popping the 'p' at the end sassily.

________________________________

After they finished packing, the three hunters are putting their stuff in the trunk when Dean notices Joanna outside. "Hey, Joanna. How's Asher doing?" He asks her concerned. "Have you seen Michael?" She asks them. "Mom! Mom!" Michael calls out to his mom, running to hug her. "Hey!" Joanna smiles when she sees her son, wrapping her arms around him.

"How's Ash?" Michael asks her as they let go of the hug. "Got some good news. You're brothers gonna be fine" She tells him happily. This makes Sam, Dean and Y/N let out a breath of relief. "Really?" Michael asks surprised and happy. "Yeah, really. No one can explain it. It's- it's a miracle." She explains as the three hunters share a look of relief.

"They're gonna keep him overnight, but after that, he's coming home" She tells them. "That's great" Dean says. "How are the other kids doing?" Sam asks. "Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the wards gonna be like a ghost town" She informs them happily.

"Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Heidecker?" Y/N asks, feigning confusion. "Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something" Joanne assumes. "Yeah, must have" Dean days vaguely. She then turns to her son, running a hand through his hair. "So, did anything happen while I was gone?" She asks him.

Michael has a slight guilty look on his face but covers it up, "No, same old stuff" He assures her. "Okay. You can go see Ash" She tells him. "Now?" He asks happily. "Only if you want to" Joanna says. He smiles at Dean who nods at him with a smile, he then runs over to their car and hops in. "I uh, better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself" Joanna jokes before going over to the car, parting ways with them.

They all sigh as Dean closes the trunk. "It's too bad" Sam says. "Oh, they'll be fine" Dean assured him. "I don't think that's what he meant" Y/N says, leaning against baby. "Yeah. I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark. He'll never be the same, you know?" Sam scoffs as Y/N nods in agreement.

Dean doesn't know how to answer this, "Sometimes I wish that..." Y/N begins but trails off sighing. "What?" Dean asks her. "I wish we could have that kind of innocence" Y/N says honestly, looking into Deans eyes. His heart skips a beat, breaking at the thought as he looks on at Joanna's car driving away.

"Yeah, me too" Sam agrees, sighing. "If it means anything, sometimes I wish you two could've too" Dean admits sadly, jumping into Baby. Sam and Y/N file in behind as Dean starts the ignition and backs out of the motel lot to hit the road and face whatever God decides to throw their way.

________________________________

Authors Note: Hope you guys enjoyed this episode! I made it longer since I took long a while to write it. A shit ton of stuff has been going on and I've been trying to update because I find pure joy in writing this. So whoever is reading, thank you for being patient and I will try my best to work through everything and update as soon as possible. This chapter is unedited but I will come back to fix it soon enough.

Stay safe my beauties😘And remember that Sam, Dean and Y/N loves every single one of you the way I do🫶

Xoxo

[bosinclairsgff]

Slashers reacting to self harm scars

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM

Warning: talk of self harm, Otis’s is kinda dark, kidnap

Includes: Baby Firefly, Otis Driftwood, Bo Sinclair, The Grabber, Amanda Young

Baby would be laying down with you in bed one night. She loves cuddling you and covering you in kisses. The kisses would start at your neck and go the way down to your hands. That’s when she feels scabbed over cuts on your arm. Immediately she sits up and grabs your arm. “Sugar, what happened?? Are ya okay? Did someone hurt ya?” She asks frantically. You would have to explain to her what happened. She’s heartbroken at first, not understanding why you would do that to yourself. Baby loves you so much and wants you to see how amazing you are. “Oh sweetheart, you don’t have to do that. It’s okay ya know I’ll take care ya.” She says sympathetically, pulling you into a tight hug. “Please don’t do that again sugar, come to me, I’ll help you.” Baby says. You nod in response, maybe she could help you.

Otis wanted to take a shower with you, which you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity for getting him clean. The only bad thing was you had just relapsed recently. You did not want him to see that right now, not knowing how he’d react. Otis went ahead of you and started the shower, getting in first. You slowly followed behind him. “What the fuck is taking ya so god damn long girl, I don’t have all fucking day.” He shouts. You pick the pace up, undressing and stepping into the shower with him. Immediately his eyes fall to your arms and thighs. “What the fuck happened to ya?” He says reaching out to touch your arm. You wince and pull back. “I asked what the fuck happened.” He states in a darker tone. Taking to long for his liking he grabs you by the neck and pushes you against the wall. “You think it’s okay to harm yourself like that mama?” Otis questions again. You shake your head, struggling to breathe. “You ever pull some shit like this again, and I’ll show you real mother fucking pain bitch.” He growls into your ear.

For the past few days you’ve been walking around Ambrose in a long sleeve shirt, keeping it on day and night. Bo starts to notice after the first day. How you avoid him touching one of your arms. Even at night when you usually sleep in one of his oversized shirts, you’ve stuck to a tight long sleeve. So, he confronts you one night. “Darlin, why are you wearin that damn long sleeve shirt in the middle of a Louisiana summer?” Bo questions while tilting his head to the side. It catches you off guard you thought he hadn’t noticed. “Oh I’m not sure. I didn’t even realize I had been wearing a long sleeve shirt. It does keep the sun off me though so that’s good I suppose.” You try to laugh it off. He looks down and chuckles, before grabbing you roughly and the wrist. You yelp in response. Before you can protest he harshly shoves your sleeve up your arm, making you wince in slight pain. His eyes widen at the sight. “Baby, why would you do that? I never want to see this shit again. You understan me?” He barks out like an order, gripping your wrist tighter. “Okay! I promise I won’t do it again, please let go.” Satisfied, he lets go.

It was the third day you had been taken and kept in this hell like basement. You knew it was The Grabber who had taken you. Sometimes when you woke up, you found him sitting near the mattress, just watching you sleep. It scared you but also brought almost a sick comfort. This time he came downstairs he had a small cardboard box in his hands. “I brought you a….new shirt and new underwear. So I can wash your pants.” He says smiling. You say nothing in response, just nodding. He sat down the box in front of you, watching, waiting for you to make a move to look into the box. Scared, you move forward and taking the shirt and underwear out of the box. “Where can I change?” You say, just above a whisper. The man chuckles darkly. “You’ll change right here dove.” His dark smile growing larger. Not wanting to make him mad you take your shirt off, revealing your arms to him. His eyes stay emotionless but intrigued. “Oh my little dove, why do such a thing? Your skin is so beautiful.” He says in almost a kind, caring voice. “I don’t know, it helps me calm down. The world can be so much to handle.” You respond putting the shirt over your head. You couldn’t hide your arms as it was a short sleeve shirt. It was however just oversized enough to hide your most precious parts from his eyes as you changed underwear. Sliding the cardboard box back over to his feet with the dirty clothes you look up at him. He squats down, now eye to eye with you. “What will you do now to handle the world?” He laughs darkly, getting up and leaving you alone in the dark basement.

[soulmvtes]

seeing the holdovers at the cinema soon !!! so excited

[fooled-around-and-fell]

she's mean, and he loves her for it.

summary: your peers wonder how the ever-so-annoying gojo satoru can stand being in a relationship with you pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader genre: angst, fluff warnings: none

Masterlist

"Did you guys know Gojo-sensei is dating-" Nobara looks around left and right before whispering your name in fear that you might be around.

"Ehhh?" Yuuji's eyebrows knit together. "No way. She's so scary and he's so...happy."

Nobara agrees, "She never smiles -- kinda looks like she has a permanent frown, too. She scares me."

"You think maybe she intimidated him to date her?"

Megumi watches as his two friends bicker about whether you and Satoru look good together, not realizing that you've heard everything they said. Megumi notices you've arrived to teach them and clears his throat, catching the attention of his two friends. He glances at you to check how you're doing after hearing what they said, but as expected, you remain professional and stoic. But Megumi knows better, he grew up under your and Satoru's wings after all.

"Shit." Nobara and Yuuji mutter under their breaths.

-----

It's fairly common for people to question your relationship with Satoru. He's this... happy-go-lucky guy who annoys everyone except those on the same wavelength as him, while you keep to yourself, prioritizing your alone time, and taking things seriously.

Sometimes, too serious.

You never let it get to you, though, because you don't really care what people say. You and Satoru are happy, that's all that matters. Until recently, when those jerk Kyoto students came over to train, they started talking about you and Satoru.

"She's so serious all the time, I don't understand how Gojo puts up with her."

"I think he's scared to breakup with her."

"I bet she's high maintenance."

"Honestly, why is he with her when he can be with someone who's... not so difficult?"

You grit your teeth at that last comment. You can't tell who said what, but it doesn't matter. Their words got to your head and now you're angry. Angry because you're scared they might be right.

Does Satoru think you're difficult? You're not entirely sure how to show them that yes, you deserve Satoru despite being the dark, grumpy person you are.

Sighing, you decide to go home instead of joining the dinner. Satoru's not in there anyway, he just got back from a mission and is waiting for you at home.

Once you close the door to your apartment, you immediately feel Satoru's arm envelope around you from behind. He smells like fresh mint -- just got out of the shower.

"Hi darling," he kisses your cheek.

"Hi, Toru." You take your shoes off and give him a quick peck before making your way to the bedroom to put your stuff down.

Satoru watches you slowly, "hm, aren't you supposed to have that dinner with the Kyoto students today?"

Your jaw clenches, taking a second before shrugging. "Decided to skip it. I'm tired."

He just hums, "In that case, you wanna watch Bridgerton with me after your shower?"

"Again?" You groan, "Isn't it like the third time you've watched it?"

"Yes, and?"

"I'll skip, thanks."

He blows a raspberry and leaves you to shower while he lays down on the couch to watch Anthony Bridgerton fall in love with his Kate Sheffield.

While you were in the shower, the words kept coming back to you. Somehow more exaggerated. You're difficult. He doesn't like you. He's just tolerating you. Why would he be with someone who doesn't even smile? Look at him, Gojo is the epitome of sunshine. You're nothing like him. Why would he like you?

Groaning, you let the hot water wash away your thoughts -- though they don't really go away. Maybe you should just try to be nicer to Satoru, be more cheerful.

After your shower, you see him lying down on the couch while watching his show, and you sit on the other end, silently dreading having to watch the same show again. But you're doing this for Satoru, so you will.

With a satisfied grin, Satoru saunters over and lies down on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You smile softly, enjoying the tight grip he has on you and his soft hair between your fingers.

"How was the mission?" You ask, "Did you have to go to Shoko?"

Satoru shakes his head, "Sweetheart, it's me we're talking about here."

"You can still get hurt, Toru." You pat his hair gently, "I've seen you bleed."

"I'm always careful. Don't worry." He kisses your hand.

You sigh softly. You know Satoru is always careful, it's just that he always goes on missions alone, and more often nowadays that it makes you worry. Yes, he's the strongest, but you never want to take that for granted.

"Toru," You call him again, a little hesitant, "You know I love you, right?"

He lifts his head from your chest, staring at you with those big blue eyes. "Of course. And I love you. So much."

He kisses you deeply, now switching positions so you're lying down on top of him. "So do you want to talk about it?"

"No.." You mumble. Of course, Satoru knows. He isn't stupid. He can sense when something's wrong with you, just like how you can feel the scar on his hip that wasn't there before. He did go to Shoko.

But none of you say anything. You just hold each other tighter that night. It's more than enough.

-----

Satoru is on another mission. It's supposed to be easy, at least that's what he said 3 days ago. You haven't heard from him at all in 3 days and you're beginning to worry. Your frown is deeper than usual, you sigh more often, and your fuse is shorter.

Everyone's more scared of you.

You let the kids take a break while you try to collect your thoughts. You can't be seen so distracted, not when Satoru left you in charge of them.

"You doing okay?" You hear Megumi's voice approach you.

Blinking away the tears that almost fell, you turn around to face him. "I'm fine, Megs."

"I told you not to call me that..." He sulks as he stands next to you, leaning against the wall. He can see you're distraught, and growing up with you, there's only been a handful of times he's seen you like this.

"You know he's going to be fine, right?"

You sigh. "I'm just worried."

You remember once when Satoru didn't come back for a week. He couldn't be reached, no one could track him down, and you were just at home, taking care of Megumi. The boy's more like you than Satoru, he's not exactly sensitive or cheery. But he knows when you're feeling sad, so he'd stay up with you, praying for Satoru's safety.

"Guys!" Yuuji runs towards you and Megumi.

"What is it, Yuuji?"

"It's Gojo-sensei-" He pants, "He's back!"

You run as fast as you can with Yuuji and Megumi, and you can finally see your white-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend limping his way back to the school grounds.

He raises his hand and waves to you with a big smile despite struggling to walk. "Tsk-" You frown even more, feeling the tears pooling again as you walk towards him and catch him in an embrace.

"Umph-" He groans. "Hi, baby."

You let go of him and check his injuries -- he's healed most of it himself, thank goodness, but the bruises are still there. "We need to go to Shoko-"

"Mm, that can wait." He pulls you to sit down on the soft grass, hugging you once again. "It's okay, I'm here now."

You choke on your own sobs and hug him tighter, sitting between his legs and burying your head in his chest. "You idiot."

"'M sorry for makin' you worry," he smiles gently, leaving kisses all over your face.

As you cup his face in your hands, you're suddenly very aware of the 3 pairs of eyes staring at you both. Noticing it too, Satoru covers your red, embarrassed face. "Okay, nothing to see here. Go.. do something. Scram. Skedaddle."

Once the kids are gone, he chuckles and thinks you're being really cute. "They're gone, sweets."

You glare at his teasing smile.

Satoru wipes away your tears, kissing your frown away. "What took you so long?" You ask after kissing him deeply, not letting him go.

A smirk lingers on Satoru's lips. "I took a detour to Kyoto after the mission to teach some kids a lesson."

[gutsby]

Homemade

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Warnings: 18+. Sneaky sex tape fun with dbf!Joel ;-) Unprotected p-in-v. Age gap. Daddy kink. Facefucking. Joel being the world’s worst cameraman. Shower sex. Overstimulation via adjustable shower head. Dirty talk. Screaming ‘daddy’ too loud, and your father shows up.

Translations: In Chile, pico is slang for penis. Joel’s is big.

Part of the Waiting Game series

“If this ever ends up on PornHub, I’ll kill you, Miller.”

Joel knew you meant it, too.

The only reason you’d agreed to make this dumb little ‘home video’ at all was because you were headed back to college tomorrow and wouldn’t see him again until May. Doing long distance was tough, but doing long distance while simultaneously trying to keep a risqué, torrid, and totally-not-age-appropriate love affair with your father’s best friend under wraps was infinitely more difficult. This was the safest way to keep desire alive in the meantime.

Immortalized on a Sony CCD-TR70—because neither one of you trusted iCloud to keep a sex tape secret.

It had also been the only video camera you could find in the closet before your dad had plopped down on the couch just outside your room and announced he would be watching Oppenheimer for the third time. You’d had to scurry off fast before he could invite you to join him.

“I’ll be damned—this thing’s gotta be as old as I am,” Joel mused as he stood at the foot of the bed, camcorder pointed at your semi-nude form.

“I didn’t know they had cameras back in the Stone Age.”

Your smirk didn't flinch, even when Joel flipped you off.

You were lying on your side, head propped up on one hand while the other picked at a few loose strings from the comforter. The lacy, pastel pink bustier holding your tits in place was currently making breathing feel like a chore, and your skin was on fire from the warmth of the room, but you tried not to show it. Joel twisted a dial.

“Alright, now...flash ‘em for daddy,” he grinned as soon as the lens focused in where he wanted: your cleavage.

You rolled your eyes.

“A little closer, please,” you said, patting the space in front of you.

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still cradling the camera, he clambered over the bed so fast he nearly tripped and took a nosedive in the headboard. You had to cover your mouth to contain a shriek of laughter—and terror—as his frame barreled into yours.

“JOEL!”

Fortunately, your cameraman was quick to recollect himself, planting a knee on either side of your chest once he’d knocked you onto your back. Then, from above, he angled the grey-black hunk of metal just a foot away:

“Anything you’d like to say to the folks watching at home, ma’am?” Joel inquired, suddenly assuming all the poise and matter-of-fact elocution of a news reporter.

You stuck your tongue out at the camera and blew the wettest, fattest raspberry you could muster in response.

Joel hummed, zoomed in on your lips, and nodded.

“Fascinating,” he said, pretending to make sense of the fart noise you’d just made with your mouth, “Have you ever given thought to maybe...sucking cock on camera?”

The swiftness with which he was able to dodge your kick was remarkable. He swayed the camera just out of reach before you could shove it away and say, ‘Joel, quit being GROSS’ and he promptly replied, ‘Ain’t that the whole point of a sex tape, sweet pea? Bein’ a little bit gross?’ And you playfully tried to kick him again, only this time, he caught your foot and yanked you closer to him. He turned the camcorder back to your face and grinned.

“That’s my little pornstar,” he murmured with affection. Then, zooming in again, this time to find your panty line, “Riiiiight there.”

You knew giving Joel Miller recording privileges for an occasion as momentous as this was a bad idea. At the rate you were going now, you’d be seeing the sunrise through the window before you ever got a glimpse of his dick. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

You crawled on all fours to get to Joel across the bed.

The man, kneeling with the camera pointed in your direction, looked up to cock a brow at you.

“Sweetheart, hey, can ya do that one more—”

“Hush,” you muttered, closing in on his crotch. 

Your head was lowered so you could undo the front of his jeans. Because of this, your back was arched, and your ass was pointed up just the slightest bit. For a second, Joel seemed torn between tilting the lens to your lower half or your face, which was inching ever closer to the bulge in his trousers. In time, he landed on the latter.

He swallowed. That sight never got old—and seeing it displayed on the camcorder’s semi-grainy screen only made it that much hotter. Joel shifted on his knees while you worked him out of his boxers, watching the nimble movements of your fingers as you wrestled the fabric.

“Wanna—” Glancing to the side of the bed, “—maybe—”

“Yup.”

Both of you liked it better on the floor: you on your knees in front of Joel, chin tilted up to see his reactions as you sucked him off. You loved to sink between his legs and then see and feel nothing but him, brain going blank the moment his cock filled your mouth. Joel slid a pillow under your knees before widening his stance some.

“Is it on?” Your hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his cock and your lips were hovering an inch from the tip. You resisted the urge to lick the precum off just yet.

“Darlin’, it’s been on ever since you stepped outta the bathroom in that— that—” Joel seemed to be searching for a word when the head of his cock was enveloped in a kiss. You dragged your tongue across the slit of him and collected the hot, salty beads with a muffled moan.

Then you pulled off.

“Teddy,” you said, reminding him of the name for that pretty little tulle and lace getup you currently had on.

“Teddy,” Joel echoed, his mind a million miles away from any lingerie jargon at the moment. He held the camera tighter as you took him back into your mouth and sank deeper on his cock. He struggled to keep it steady.

It was strange, watching Joel and the rounded glass of the lens as you did this dirty thing that was only meant to be shared between you and him. Knowing it would be recorded, saved for future viewing, displayed on some dimly lit screen in Joel’s bedroom maybe one, twice, or more likely than not, several dozen times over the next three months. You wondered how you might look from this new point of view; though, you weren’t so sure you needed to know what sight Joel was made privy to while you sucked and hollowed your cheeks around his cock.

As it turned out, that uncertainty wasn’t meant to last you very long, because Joel flipped the camera’s screen around two seconds later. Some sepia-tinted, pixelated rendition of your face, framed by the date and time and a bright red flashing dot beside the word ‘REC’ were the first to greet you. You flinched back just a little.

“Joel,” you said, almost bashful, “Flip it back.”

Joel just grinned. Then he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged you closer to him, thumb stroking over your scalp, “C’mon, darlin’, don’t ya wanna see how goddamn pretty ya look on your knees for me?”

You didn’t think you looked pretty at all. In fact, you reckoned your features looked something more like an alien utility funnel than a real, human face as you tilted your chin inward and seemed to be nothing but eyes and a hollowed-out expression, but you let Joel guide you back onto him all the same. You heard a low rumble of pleasure take shape in his chest as your lips slid over his shaft. Your gaze remained glued to the screen as you did.

Wet with saliva and a few faint traces of precum, you continued to bob your head up and down. Joel’s groans grew louder, and your drive to take him further and further surged as well. By the time his hand was tightening into a white-knuckled fist in your hair, you’d nearly taken him all the way to the back of your throat, and your nose was no more than an inch from the soft tufts of hair on his belly. Joel let out a shuttering breath.

“Fuck me,” he heaved. You might’ve smiled if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied. Then he clenched his hand even harder and murmured, “Can you— can I, please—”

Again, you didn’t need him to finish the rest of the question to know what he wanted. You moved your head back just slightly to nod, a low, ‘Mhmm’ reverberating down the length of his dick as you gave him permission. Joel swallowed and set the camera aside immediately.

He placed it on the nightstand, perfectly level with your head, to the side. Then he rotated the device just a bit, took one glance at the screen, and shortly returned to where you were watching him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Ready?” he asked. His right hand now joined the left at the back of your head, but not before thumbing a quick touch over your cheek to get a feel for your approval.

You hummed once more. You watched Joel’s hips move forward, hands secure around your scalp all the while, and you felt a gentle nudge at the back of your throat. Then another. You couldn’t help the impulse to gag, but thankfully, it was short-lived. Joel peered down at you, eyes searching yours for any plea to stop or slow down, but he found nothing. He sheathed himself deeper until your lips were brushing the base of his dick. He groaned.

“That’s a good…fuckin’ girl,” he managed, voice strained, “Takin’ my cock so deep.”

He shifted his hips to move an inch or two out, then slid his cock forward again, bumping that spot at the top of your throat. This time, you were better adjusted to take him and felt your muscles expand and contract around him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes stayed trained on his face while he dragged his cock back again.

“My pretty girl and her—” Joel stabbed back into you, somehow tender in the way he did it, “—pretty fuckin’ mouth…Sweet thing likes gettin’ facefucked, does she?”

With the increased pace of his thrusts and the grip he had on the sides of your head, you couldn’t quite answer, but Joel could tell from the glint in your eye that you loved when he manhandled and fucked your throat like this. Watched the light sear gently behind those irises as you swallowed every inch of his cock, back and forth, and let your brain break down to little more than a happy, mindless mush. Joel was always keen to oblige you on that front—aroused to no end at the sight of all your thoughts being fucked straight out of your head—and within the next few thrusts, his gut was giving a familiar clench. He pulled halfway out of your mouth, paused, felt the pinch again, then withdrew from your lips fully.

“Get on the bed.”

You straightened back up and made it over to the mattress, quickly. Before you could assume the position you’d been hoping to take on all fours, you felt yourself flipped on your back. Joel yanked your hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled down between your legs. Hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and had them shuffled down your thighs and past your ankles in no time at all. Then, when he lowered his lips to your wet, aching core, you pressed a touch to the crown of his head.

“Joel, wait,” you said. All of a sudden your chest felt tight.

In spite of the fact that your airways were open and completely free from any obstruction—namely, Joel’s big ol’ pico—you still found it difficult to inhale. Some murky, amorphous sense of anxiety weighed over your chest.

When your hand didn’t move from his head and instead pushed him further, Joel furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What’s’a matter, darlin’?”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him.

“I haven’t…just— haven’t washed down there today…o-or shaved,” you stammered, “Don’t want you to taste it.”

That was largely a lie. You’d bathed, shaved, and prepared for this just fine, but really were more concerned about the novel optics that loomed overhead. Being filmed in such a singularly vulnerable state without knowing how to act. You were fine when the attention was focused on Joel and his pleasure, but something about having your every whimper and moan laid bare before you on film felt daunting. Unnerving, in a way.

Joel frowned while rubbing your thigh. His brow pinched inward again, as if he were considering something.

Then he moved across your body, and your muscles eased with relief at the thought that he’d just let it go and get to fucking you exactly how you wanted. You reached for him, ready to wrap your legs around his waist, when a yelp clawed out of your throat. You found that you didn’t get to touch his chest, or his cheeks, or his big, broad, beefy shoulders, as you were promptly thrown over the latter of the three body parts and lifted when Joel stood up from the bed. He started carrying you across the room, heedless of the startled, ‘What the FUCK, Miller?’ you’d cried the second he took one step.

Hardwood floors transformed to tile before your eyes, and shortly, you realized you were being brought into your bathroom.

You heard the squeak of some metal knob being turned, then a brief sputter, then a spray of water raining down on your shower floor. You were still being held hostage over Joel’s shoulder, try as you might to bite at his lower back or smack his ass in an attempt to break loose.

He set you down a second later, seemingly unfazed.

“Get in.” He nodded toward the shower.

Before you had a chance to respond, he left. You stood back in disbelief—refusing to go into the shower and let Joel have his win—but just as you opened your mouth to call out and tell him as much, his form slipped back in through the door. Naked, now, and wielding that stupid, goddamned camcorder with a devious glint in his eye.

“Will you—” You held out a defensive hand in front of you, cheeks already heating, “—stop with that?!”

Secretly, the corners of your lips were fighting a smile as Joel drew closer with the camera held up to your face.

“There she is, folks,” he announced, as though speaking to a crowd, or else reading off of a script from the world’s most cheesy porno, “My dirty, dirty girl says she needs a shower—don’t ya, sweet pea?”

It sounded so ridiculous and dumb that neither one of you could keep from laughing. Even as you lifted your middle finger in response, Joel grinned and smacked your ass. Steadied the camera out in front, nudged you closer to the shower, and watched you somewhat begrudgingly obey his orders. Once you’d stripped what little remained on your body, you stepped into the tub.

Add to ‘ridiculous and dumb’ just wildly unsexy as well—who the hell needed a soapy interlude to a sex tape?

Joel Miller, apparently. He constricted his grip on the camera and followed you in, tongue already skimming the backs of his teeth in anticipation. You turned away to step under the shower’s stream, and he wasted no time getting a shot of your derrière. You leaned forward and sighed.

The water worked wonders to get your muscles to loosen some, but still, you were nervous. You could clean up now, stall a little longer, maybe even offer to give Joel head again—but what if he really wanted to eat you out on camera? You couldn’t put off the conversation forever.

Or another minute, it seemed.

You let out a shriek when you felt Joel’s fingers sneak up between your thighs. You hardly knew what he was doing, just folding limply when he spun you around to press your back against the shower wall. Your eyes widened to see him descending your body once more.

“I lied,” Joel said, smirk painted clear across his features, “You’re not dirty—I just wanted to eat your pussy in the shower ‘s’all.”

Chivalry was evidently alive and well in Austin, Texas.

No truer words could have been spoken, and yet, you felt wildly uncomfortable the second Joel’s head dipped between your legs and that big, dumb, handsome face started licking stripes up your sensitive core. You cast a glance to the side and saw the camcorder perched on the sink—just through the open slit in the shower curtain, you could see it pointed directly at you.

You shivered and started to push Joel away.

“Can we maybe just—”

“Sweetie?!”

Joel’s lips tore out of your cunt quicker than a sneeze through a screen door. His eyes were wide.

“Y-Yeah, dad?” you squeaked, tone almost fearful.

“Everything okay in here? I heard ya scream,” your dad returned shortly.

You could only imagine the expression of confusion and distress painting his every lineament in that moment. Probably just barely sticking his head through the crack in the door and blinking anxiously through the steam.

Your dad was caring like that.

He just never knew the right times to show up.

No, there were very few times where you would’ve liked to see him less—apart from that one time you’d sucked Joel’s dick under the table at your dad’s birthday dinner. Your heart was thudding a wild, erratic beat in your chest, and you could only imagine how Joel was feeling. Probably seeing visions of a Size 11 boot being shoved up his ass if his friend happened to slide the shower curtain to the side and see him nose-deep in his daughter’s box.

That would be bad. So very, very bad and probably ten times worse than when Tommy had caught you blowing his brother at the aforementioned birthday party. You just couldn’t seem to catch a break these days.

You sucked in a breath and answered anyway.

“I thought I saw a spider.”

“Really?” You could already sense the embittered tinge to your dad’s voice, harking back to the war he’d once declared on all wolf spiders in the home, “Want me to kill it?”

The next thing you heard was two boots thud on the bathroom floor outside the shower, and you could’ve sworn you saw Joel’s whole soul leap from his body. He shot a frantic look around him, spotted a window above, and seemed to wonder for half a second if he might be able to shimmy his 188-pound frame through a space that probably wasn’t big enough to fit a fat raccoon. He slumped his weight against the shower wall and winced.

“No! I— It wasn’t even a spider. Just a…roach.”

Shortly, Joel’s eyes widened even more and met yours, as if to ask, ‘Why the FUCK would you say that?’

“A roach?!” your dad cried simultaneously.

Apparently, you’d forgotten that any derivative of the word ‘cockroach’ was like a sleeper agent activation phrase for middle-aged fathers who wanted to keep their homes free of all household pests. The look on Joel’s haggard, world-weary face communicated as much to you, and for a second, you remembered that he, too, was built the same way as any other semi-old dude you knew.

Just bigger and beefier and…harder below the belt than you would’ve expected most men around his age to be.

You quickly chided yourself for ogling Joel’s dick at a time like this and replied to your father, shrill, “No!”

Then, slightly more composed, “No, no— I already took it out with some hairspray and told it to fuck off to hell.”

An attempt at humor was the last leg you had to stand on. Fortunately, it worked.

Outside the shower, your dad chuckled, and his footsteps started to shuffle off toward the door.

“Ah. Atta girl,” he beamed, ever the advocate for brutal cockroach killings, “If you see another, just holler, okay?”

“Okay.”

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you almost fell to the floor. Joel probably would’ve been facedown just as well—fear seeping out of his body along with every last ounce of willpower to stand—had he not made a dive for you as soon as your dad had left.

The force of his push sent you straight into the wall, legs forced to wrap around his waist as he buried his face in your neck.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome,” you murmured, swiping the water out of your eyes with a grimace.

Then, just as you were about to request that Joel lower you back down to the floor and out of the shower’s spray, you felt a nudge between your legs. Luckily not a tongue this time—just Joel, or the tip of his leaking cock. The man below you grinned, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a wash of relief. Could it be?

“I’ll still eat you out if y’want,” he started, though speaking with a little less conviction this time around, “But after all that I, uh—kinda jus’ wanna fuck ya stupid.”

Well thank fuck for fake spiders and cockroaches, too; you’d just averted a dreaded tonguefuck, thanks to that detour.

You’d worry about your pornstar moans and on-camera charisma another time—now you could just sit back and let Joel do all the work while he took you against the wall.

Really, there was no need to concern yourself with anything at all from that point forward. Once you’d given Joel the green light, he was sinking you onto his cock with a grunt and making sure you felt nothing but him. His hands found your hips and held you firmly in place as he rutted into you from below, your own fingers latching onto his shoulders for some much-needed support. Both of you knew that you needed to be extra quiet now—seeing how sound seemed to carry in that tight, tiled space—so Joel snagged your lips in his for a kiss.

He was practically panting in your mouth by the time you started meeting his thrusts. His fingertips slid some and must’ve seared ten perfect crescents into the flesh of your ass as he fucked you into the wall.

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered in between kisses and short, shallow breaths. His cock parted your insides with an excruciating welt of pleasure, and he hardly even seemed to realize it, “Look so damn pretty takin’ cock.”

Then, lips kicking up in a smile when it seemed he’d remembered something, he added, “Can’t wait to play this tape back home and watch us fuck all over again.”

Again. Again. And again. Shit, you could just see it now.

Your eyes traversed the compact shower space once more to find the video camera—still perched, still live, still perfectly implacable and silent atop the sink as it recorded your every grunt, groan, and shuddering moan. You were nearly as curious to know what Joel’s bare ass looked like rutting into you like this as you were to hear yourself getting railed against the shower wall. Maybe you’d beat this fear of secondhand embarrassment after all.

Maybe.

Joel’s teeth snagged your bottom lip and bit it, lightly.

“Every chance I get, you can bet I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout this…sweet pussy while you’re away,” he said, voice low and occasionally punctured by a groan, “Say one more thing f’me and I’ll…cum every time I watch this part.”

The kinks at the corners of his lips were endearing. You would’ve liked to supply them with just about anything they could’ve wanted, so when they leaned into your ear and murmured just what it was they needed to hear, you only hesitated a second.

Or maybe two or three, because, well…it was risky.

Moaning ‘daddy’ out loud at a time like this? It might get Joel off quick, but it might send your real dad running even faster. You weren’t crazy about the thought of anything that might draw the man’s attention again.

Joel seemed a little less risk-averse than you, notwithstanding the window-leaping fear he’d felt when your dad had rushed in before. Leave it to a criminally horny man to have the memory of a goldfish, though.

At present, Joel was blinking and gawking a bit like one, too, waiting for you to enunciate that one magic word.

You couldn’t deny he made a damn cute desperate sex fiend when he wanted to be. And you needed to cum.

You figured you could cut a deal with him just this once.

“Alright,” you mumbled against the top of his stubbled lip, “Make me cum and I’ll say anything you want, Miller.”

You weren’t sure if it was a chuckle or a strangled moan that jumped up in his throat when Joel squeezed your sides tighter. All you knew was that he was lowering you to the floor in the next instant, spinning you around, and walking you forward, swiftly and with purpose, toward the opposite end of the shower. Right where the crack in the curtain made you most visible to the camcorder.

Joel’s hand snaked around your front and gently eased between your legs. Then, pressing his chest to your back and nudging you to bend just slightly at the waist, he tipped your bodies closer to the camera’s line of vision and stilled. From the LED screen, you could see the ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he shifted his head beside your own. Next, they were kissing across your shoulder, your neck, that sensitive spot behind your ear, and finally the shell of it, brown eyes trained on the camera lens as he murmured to you, “Stay real still.”

You didn’t know if you could. But you tried. And you damn near cried when his fingers started working circles over your clit. Your body was raised on tip-toes, and your hand was bracing the wall as Joel fucked you from behind and made a mess of your wet, writhing body. In no more than three or four strokes, your fears of looking or sounding stupid on camera trickled away with all the rest of the silent, sizzling liquids circling the drain below. Your cheek pressed against Joel’s rougher one, and with the push of each new thrust, you came more unraveled.

When Joel’s hand closed over the front of your throat, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move—couldn’t move, as the man was holding you still in such a taut, rigid grip.

“What do we say when we get fucked this nice, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear, words almost entirely masked by the sounds from the shower. You still heard it, though.

“T-Thank you,” you stuttered, cockdrunk and faint.

“Thank you, what?”

Your eyes were fluttering closed, but you could feel the smug expression just over your shoulder. You clenched around him and felt him snap his hips ahead even harder.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Say it again.”

“Thank you, daddy!” you whined, still scared to be too loud.

Joel wasn’t scared. His hand ascended the column of your neck to pinch your chin between his fingers, jerking your head to the right.

To the crack in the curtain. To the camera.

You could’ve cried with how fast he was fucking you now. You opened your eyes and cast a pathetic look to the recorder. Joel made sure you maintained that gaze, too.

“Who’s makin’ ya feel this good?” he seethed, shaking your whole frame with the breakneck pace of his hips.

“You, daddy.”

“Who’s fuckin’ this sweet cunt like no one ever has?”

“You, daddy.”

Joel seemed sated and somehow not fully satisfied at all. Like he was pleased to see you falling apart for him like this, but needed to hear more. Feel more.

He withdrew from you, and you nearly collapsed with the absence of his arms holding you straight.

You pressed a shaky palm to the wall and almost moaned for him to get his ass back over here, you weren’t done, when Joel returned in a second. To your relief, his muscly arms found their way around your front once more, and his clock plunged back inside you, too—only this time, you sensed you were missing something else.

Water.

It wasn’t on your back anymore.

It was fanning between your legs.

Blasting the full force of its stream toward your most sensitive parts as Joel held the shower head up between your thighs. You would’ve jumped back and screamed were it not for his hand clamping tight over your mouth before you could, his lips grazing over your ear again.

“Try it one more time.”

You released a hoarse, muffled squeal into his palm when he lifted the stainless steel to your clit and started rolling his hips. The strokes themselves were relatively gentle, but paired with the ruthless spate of the water, your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head at the pulse.

You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Joel hummed almost apologetically into your hair but didn’t seem sorry at all as he lowered his hand back down to your throat and squeezed. He continued rocking his hips into yours.

“You’ve said it dozens of times before—what’s’a matter?”

Joel Miller knew what the fuck was the matter. He just liked to see you desperate, fucked-out, and teetering on the brink of going feral before he let you reach your peak.

“D-D-D—”

Damn, you sounded stupid.

“D-D-Do you wanna cum? Is that it?” Joel said, mocking your struggle to articulate words as he fucked you.

In spite of your normal no-bullshit attitude toward him, you weren’t in quite the right frame of mind to be talking back to him. You just nodded and moaned, movements constricted by the grip of his fingers on your neck.

“Use those big girl words for me, honey. I know ya can.”

Again, you parted your lips and started to speak, but the oscillation of the water, the brush of his cock, the patently deprecating lilt in Joel’s string of praises, made it nearly impossible. You ended up sputtering again,

“D-D-ah-fuuuckfuckfuck.”

“That ain’t the word I’m looking for.”

But, just as you ventured to say it once more, he cut in,

“Here. Lemme help ya find it.”

Before you could blink, Joel was pistoning his hips against your ass like he had before, only this time, he held the shower head stationary between your legs as you seized and nearly fell to the floor with the force of all the pleasure coursing through you. Your body seemed to act of its own accord, head dropping to Joel’s shoulder and stomach giving an alarmingly fitful pinch as an orgasm tore through you. You couldn’t control how it came or where it went—or how your tongue jumped up and cried,

“Daddy!”

Joel nodded, fucking you through each violent spasm with all the composure and aplomb of a seasoned pro. While your eyes cycled back in the throes of delirium, he held firm and didn’t slow his hips—or the shower head.

You probably could’ve torn a hole through a cinder block if you’d happened to have one between your teeth just then. That was how fervid and merciless the aftershocks of your climax were pulsing through you, exacerbated to the nth degree by the continuity of Joel’s movements. You managed to grab the forearm that was holding the metal nozzle and plead a wild, slightly stifled, “JOEL!”

In truth, you didn’t really want him to stop. It felt too good. You could tell that Joel sensed this, too, because in the instant after that, his lips were sponging kisses to your shoulder, cock working steadily between your walls.

“One more, sweet pea.”

“Joel—”

“And say it louder this time.”

Were you in your right mind, you probably would’ve chided him for being so reckless and stupid about it all. How the fuck could he expect you to scream out loud when your dad was lounging right outside of your room? Did he really think the drone of Cillian Murphy’s smooth, American-ized tone would mask your unbridled moans? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure—and more importantly, you couldn’t be stopped to consider for much longer. With one last trembling vibration from the shower head and a thrust from Joel, you were cumming all over again.

Squeezing his arm, sinking into his sturdy frame, clenching over his cock in what felt like a hundred convulsions, and casting caution aside, you screamed:

“DADDY!”

You might’ve blacked out for a second or two.

Even a minute, as it was, because the next intelligible thing that reached your ears was the thunder of footfalls. And the thrum of Joel’s own hammering heart as he yanked you into his chest and stilled frozen inside you.

The door swung open on its hinges so hard it hit the wall.

“What is it, sweetie?!” your dad yelped.

“I—”

“Are you hurt?”

Just fucked raw by your best friend and shaking, Pops.

You sucked in a breath when Joel nudged your head with his nose and slowly pulled the shower curtain closed to move you out of view of the camera. But it was still there.

Your dad was still there.

The shower walls seemed to be closing in on you, but somehow, you managed, “No, dad, I’m fine! Just…coulda sworn I saw another spider in here, but it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Your dad sounded unconvinced, pacing closer. You could’ve screamed, but Joel was likely holding you too tight to make any such sounds possible in that moment. The two of you recoiled, still stuck chest-to-back, away from the edge of the plastic shower liner when a boot thudded just outside the crack between curtain and wall.

You swallowed. Joel squeezed. Neither of you breathed.

“If it’s another roach, I gotta call the extermin—”

“No! No, it wasn’t a roach. I’m just seein’ things, I think.”

That didn’t seem to make your father feel any better, because he didn’t retreat like he had before. A tense moment fell over the compact, fog-infested room, like the man was chewing away at some thought in his head.

Then he sighed.

“Alright.”

Blissful footsteps away from the shower. You smiled.

Unfortunately, the grin was destined to be short-lived, because in the next instant, you heard boots screech to a halt on the tile. Pivoted, then paused where they stood.

Another gut-wrenching dozen seconds passed, and for one short, chilling moment, you could’ve sworn you felt your father’s gaze sear through the curtain and see you.

But he didn’t see you. Or Joel. Or anyone.

Instead, his gaze was fixed someplace else.

Suddenly, his voice rose above all the awful noises of clamor and panic in your brain, and broke out, loudly,

“What’s my camera doin’ in here?”

[roturo]

-; ੈ♡˳ MINISKIRT

JJK MEN REACTING TO YOU TEASING THEM WITH A MINISKIRT! ★༉‧₊˚✧

(gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento)

contents: smut, nsfw, sub behavior, PRAISE, miniskirts, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, whimpering, overstimulation, edging, jealousy, sub-space, fluff, possesive behavior, all of them being DOWN for you, and lovesick for you.

A/N: wrote this while watching the office and drunk so npr, and proabably took so long to write because of this.

gojo satoru

He knows what you’re trying. That’s why he doesn’t give in. And it’s much more difficult when that tiny miniskirt is the color of his eyes, matching perfectly with a top as small as your skirt of his hair color.

Bending over the table just so he could see the matching panties while you ‘try to have a closer look to what Nanami is showing you’ – And he doesn’t know what angers him more, the fact you’re doing this to annoy him and probably other people behind you are watching your panties which he’s trying to cover with his body, or the fact Nanami is more likely watching your tits through that tiny top you’re wearing right now. 

He pinches the back of your thigh, making you squeak and sit again as a reaction– looking to your side finding Satoru giving you a glare easily expressing ‘stop what you´re doing’ – and maybe that’s what makes you more eager to tease him now that you’re feeling the wetness coming out of you.

And you know he’s suffering right now. Not only because he’s jealous, but because you’re giving a small piece to someone else of what he supposed it was his.

“Nngh- please baby, i’m sorry- but I couldn’t stand him watching how precious you looked” His cries went to deaf ears as you rode him, edging him for the third? fourth? time. He had some ‘childish’ (that’s what you called it) outburst because he couldn’t stand you teasing him like that, and suddenly after pinching your thigh moved you towards his lap after you sat so you could feel his raging erection and broke Nanami’s chair with the cursed energy he couldn’t control coming out of his body. Something completely new for him.

“Please princess, it was just- You’re so beautiful I can’t let anyone to- I… I just can’t get enough of you.” He ghosted his lips with yours, trying to kiss them but you wouldn’t let him. You were close to another orgasm too, he was yearning for your touch, begging to whatever god stronger than him so you could give him permission to cum.

Who would’ve thought, huh? 

If Mahito, Sukuna or any of those fuckers watched him lose control to a girl they woulc’ve laughed at his face, but if they experienced how good it was to be inside of you, feeling your liquids coat him and his pelvis while they come out of you— even though you don’t let him cum, they would’ve understand. 

But he won’t let them get even 2 meters near you.

You started kissing his neck, marks that will be very prominent in just some hours, his whimpers bringing you to heaven even with how slow you rode him, just one thrust and he swears he could cum– overstimulation taking the best of him, you just pecked his lips one time and did as what he imagined and failed to keep it in.

“Aw baby, you ruined it! Why couldn’t you wait for me? Wanted to cum so badly? It’s okay, but cum again, okay? Be my good boy and make me cum again mhm?”

geto suguru

Are you doing this on purpose? Or you don't really notice? He swears people could see his raging erection from 10 meters afar, quirks of having a big cock, i guess.

And it’s so fucking embarrasing trying to hide it with the shopping bags you gave him to carry, not only he looked in an awkward position while walking, but the friction– and having you infront of him walking with that mini skirt, would make everyone crazy.

He swears he could just cum while walking and watching your hips move and tease him with your body. 

But you just were clueless. Getting excited to find the store you were looking for and do small jumps which had him rolling his eyes to conceal his need for you.

And he was getting needy. Spraying kisses all over your neck when he back-hugged you, he was making it obvious now! Rubbing himself on you, he needed it.

When you finally arrived home, he couldn’t stand it anymore, throwing away the bags somewhere in the kitchen carrying you– having to steady yourself by grabbing what you could from his back and not fall face into the floor while your legs were hanging on his front.

He carried you all the way into your bedroom and dropped you down softly on your bed while he plastered kisses all over your thighs mumbling about how much he missed being between your thighs and how you’ve been playing games with him this entire day.

You were suddenly overcome with excitement. Your clit throbbed and you desperately needed release. Your breath hitched in anticipation. All you could think about was letting Geto finally give you what you’ve been planning this whole day. 

“You’re so perfect. So perfect f´me– and all you been doin’ this day was tease me with that tiny skirt of yours baby- had to control myself to not go crazy over ya’”

At times like this, where Geto is kneeling right in front of you with his face buried in the middle of your legs, you are grateful that you lived alone. Because it means you don’t have to hold back your moans when Geto swipes his tongue on your clit. You don’t have to hold back as he roams his tongue around your entrance.  You know you genuinely lost it when he wrapped his lips around your bud, giving it a hard suckle that made your hips bucked. Out of instinct, your hand went to his hair. Gripping around the strand of it just to push his head closer to your cunt, letting the tip of his nose pressed against it. 

He inhaled, he fucking inhaled to let your scent filled his nose as if his tongue isn’t enough to make you feel stars.  Soon enough, you are on your knees, with your face buried on your pillow, tears pooling around your teardox as Geto has his mouth back to your pussy. His tongue moves in and out your hole to build up your orgasm. 

“What happened to my teasing girl mhm?”

choso kamo

Poor him. How did he end up in this situation? He swears all he did was give a small peek through your skirt because how couldn’t he?!

You were bending in front of him! And you’re even meaner because you know he has a crush for you since….ever. Kinda embarrassing to be honest. Because he acts like a kid having a crush, even worse, like when a little kid had a crush on their old brothers/sister friends… 

But. He won't lie he loves when you punish him like this. Because you praise him for being such dork for you. 

"It's okay, baby, you're doing so well for me right now," you lean down and place small kisses on his tear-stained cheeks, his red nose with his black mark and his eyelids eliciting a broken sob from him, "Think you can handle a little while longer, puppy?"

And he’s not thinking very clearly right now– Not when you’re pumping his cock in that tempo that has him seeing stars and crying out loud for you.

“yesyesyesy princess– oh my god- oh my fucking god… i´m sosososoooo lucky to be here with you baby, I love you soo much, i’m so, fuck, nngh!”

He was coming for a fifth? six? time right now. He swears he heard something about you telling him you won’t stop jacking him off until he cums dry. 

Choso looked at you, sniffing and wrapping his hand around yours, "But I want to fuck you now..." He mumbled barely audible to you, and you had to close your eyes and take a deep breath or you would've done what he told you to.

And he’s fucking excited for that. To fucking lose his mind and body to you. To dump all his cum wherever and whenever you wanted.

nanami kento

This little fucking pervert! He acts like this ‘oh so mature guy’ when he’s just as down for you as you are for him. He tried not to fall for you once he saw you for the first time in a mission both of you coincidentally crashed into. Being from another part of the world and suddenly connecting through these annoying curses.

But what annoyed him the most was how ‘inappropriate’ you are while working. Wearing those miniskirts of different colors for work. For work!

How is he supposed to focus? How is he supposed to train? Not when you’re moving your legs with that skirt that barely covers your butt and he easily sees the figure of it and your lips begging to be released to be tasted. By him. 

And you finally have him where you wanted, right between your legs. 

Your moans echo inside your bedroom, and maybe tomorrow you will have your neighbor file a noise complaint to you, but you didn’t mind. To have Kento’s attention only to you worth everything. 

At first, Kento wasn't the biggest fan of the size difference between you two, he felt almost too big compared to you.

Well, that was before he knew how good could fuck your needy cunt.

You were just barely holding onto his shoulders, leaving scratch marks that he would not even bother covering up, holding you with ease against the wall. "That's right, bunny, say my name and mark me, let everyone know I'm all yours, let them hear how good I fuck you," Kento whined and clung to you, feeling his cock pumping in and out of your small body, tilting his head forward to look down at the connection between your bodies.

The obvious outline of his length on your lower belly made him roll his eyes to the back of his head, your trembling legs wrapping around his hips, keeping his cock buried deep inside your pulsing pussy, feeling it wanting to milk every drop of his cum.

"Fuck me, more... I need more of your cock kento, please~!"

[harrysfolklore]

tom blyth being obsessed with his girlfriend: a compilation

this was inspired by @astranva’s famous blurbs, love you and miss you novs <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

It seemed like the entire world was crushing on the same man: Tom Blyth

Unfortunately for those who watched The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and came out of the theater in love with the man who played Coriolanus Snow, he was happily taken and loved to talk about his girlfriend any chance he got, which lead to fans making several compilations about the times he was a simp over his girl.

The most popular video was a 10 minute and 33 seconds compilation, which had around 445k views.

It started with Tom's interview with Good Morning America to talk about Billy the Kid, the interviewer asking about how he prepared for the role.

"It was during the pandemic, like any actor during that time I was just hoping that the world came back to normal so I could start making a cent," everyone in the set laughed at this, "I was living with my girlfriend YN in a barn house and we were like chopping wood every morning and visiting my friend's ranch. So when I got the part I kinda felt like I was ready for it."

"Your girlfriend, you say," one of the interviewers said making Tom smile right away, "Did she help you prepare for the role too?

"Of course she did, she's my biggest supporter ever."

The video moved to show some behind the scenes of Songbirds and Snakes footage, Tom dressed in his peacekeeper costume and dancing around while Rachel recorded him.

"See this moves?" he got closer to the camera, "I used them to charm my girlfriend."

"And I doubt they worked." Rachel laughed behind the camera.

"She loves me so I'm pretty sure they did."

The next thing shown was Tom sitting next to Hunter as they did an interview for Rolling Stone, the crew just asked about their thoughts on Olivia Rodrigo's single for the movie.

"I love Olivia Rodrigo," Hunter cheerfully said, throwing her arms up to the air, "The new album is so good."

"I'm a big fan as well," Tom joined in, "My girlfriend YN, she's obsessed with her, plays her songs all the time."

"Just so everyone knows, YN is like the coolest person ever," Hunter said, making Tom smile, "She brought us snacks on set so many times, such an angel."

"She's the best."

The following footage was Tom and Rachel's rapid-fire questions with Vogue.

"Can you guess where this is from?" Rachel asked holding up a card that showed a zoomed in picture of a suit.

"That's my Prada suit from the London premiere," Tom asked confidently, Rachel confirming that he was correct, "My girlfriend YN loved that suit, that's why It's one of my favorites."

"Oh I miss YN."

"So do I, so do I."

Next clip was Tom's interview Stephen Colbert, who just asked him if he was a fan of the books growing up.

"I was such a huge fan, I grew up watching the films. My mom and sister used to go to opening weekends to see the movies," the audience cheered at that, "Actually, for my third date with my girlfriend I took her to see the last movie, so getting to play a young president Snow is a real honor."

The video quickly moved to show the lat clip, one of Tom's interviews at the London premiere of the movie.

"Are you here on your own? No date?" The interviewer said once Tom finished answering the previous question.

"I'm here with my girlfriend, actually," his face beamed as he spoke, "She's probably somewhere taking selfies with Hunter, those two are like best friends."

"Is she close to your cast mates?" the interviewer asked again.

"Definitely, they try to steal her from me and I can't blame them, she's the best."

[mysicklove]

cw: sub! megumi, dom! gn! reader, overstimulation, handjobs (as always), dacryphilia, slight sadism in reader, slight masochism in megumi? teasing, "good boy" used once.

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i have been recently hating my writing style guys what do I do </3 also I did this instead of hw so tonight is gonna suck.

“waitwaitwaitwait!” megumi mumbles into your neck for the third time this night. you feel another round of tears drip onto your collarbone, and shaky hands grip your t-shirt in a plea. he was naked — his pale skin seeming to flush a shade of red, and his spine was curved as he caved in over himself.

your thumb circles around the tip, teasing it until you watch another glob of precum bead at his slit. you crane your neck to look at him, using your free hand to tilt his chin up to press a small kiss to his lips. “doing so good,” you mumble into his mouth, and he lets out a broken sob, “staying still and taking it. we don’t need any rope today.”

his whole body feels to be on fire, and with every stroke of your hand, a whole new wave of overstimulation forces another shiver. the boy's mouth hangs open, lip glistening from a mix of saliva from your mouth and tears. “you’re so mean to me."

“poor thing,” you coo, knowing that you aren't going to do anything about his complaint. instead, you use your thumb to brush away some tears. he sniffles at you, nodding his head to hopefully coax some more praise. but your mind travels back to your movements, your wrists twisting back and forth as you focus on the red tip. “but you look so cute like this, i can’t help it, y’know that.”

his head falls back onto your shoulder, and immediately, he plants kisses on your neck, nibbling at the skin to try and distract himself. the top of his dark hair was matted with sweat, but the tips of it tickled your collarbone. you use your thumb to rub at his cheek as you continue to stroke him off, ignoring his sporadic jerks of pain. “can you cum again? just one more time, for me?”

the noise megumi lets out is meek, pathetic even, and he shakes his head into your chest. he has begun to hiccup from the intensity of his sobs, and his hand hasn't moved from gripping fiercely at your shirt. "last one," he breathes, rubbing his nose into your skin, "p-promise its the last one!"

you grab his face again with one hand and begin to pepper it with kisses, successfully wiping away more tears as he whines with shut eyes. his eyelashes are globbed together, and when he opens them again, he narrows them at you, slightly peeved and scared at your lack of response. "promise," he manages to get out before he bites his lip from you rubbing your pointer finger over his slit.

"fine, fine, I promise," you concede, and your hand stops teasing him, instead fully pumping him from base to tip. the act makes his thighs tremble, and you push them slightly more apart to give you easier access. the redness of his cock contrasts his pale skin adorably, and you can't help you're staring as he continues to leak.

"it hurts," he whimpers, mostly to himself, because all he can think about is how overwhelmed he feels. his thoughts are spinning, and even just the slightest touches on other parts of his body seem to startle him due to him focusing his entire attention on trying not to rip your hand off of his cock.

you don't pay attention to the whine, instead just pressing more kisses to his flushed cheeks, nibbling gently at the flesh while he sniffles. but, even with all the complaints and whines he was letting out, you've noticed that his hips have begun to buck back into your hand, only making the lewd noise louder. he tries to pretend that it was you who was torturing him, but his movements were of his own free will.

"you like it now?"

"no!" he says much too quickly, flashing you panicked eyes. "i-i just. 's not my fault!" at this point, you have fully stopped your movements just to watch in admiration of the boy. he was desperate in his movements, and with each thrust of his hips into the makeshift hole a coo leaves your mouth.

"aw, look, now you're getting excited. do you want to cum, megumi?" you purr, brushing his bangs back while twisting your other wrist. his eyes roll back, and his mouth remains open as he lets out quick, short breaths. now, his noises consisted more of moans rather than pained whimpers as he started to chase his high.

"n-no—yes. fuck I-" is all he manages to get out before your mouth is pressed onto his. but he pulls away only five seconds later due to his rapid heartbeat and the need for oxygen to keep up with it. you just chuckle at him and increase your speed, eyes flickering from the sight between his legs and his flushed face.

his thighs begin to squeeze shut, and his moans begin to increase in pitch, a telltale sign that he is teetering near his high. you chuckle at him when he begins to latch onto your neck, planting sloppy kisses to whatever surface he can. "are you close?"

he doesnt even attempt to speak, instead just nodding his head lazily. the act makes you roll your eyes and squeeze just a tad too hard on his dick in warning. he lets out a squeak at the feeling, and this time he does speak up. "yeah. yes. yes. c-close."

you pet his head, satisfied with his answer. "good boy. you can cum, alright?"

another set of tears pools in his eyes, and this time you cock your head to the side. "why are you crying 'gumi? I didn't hurt you that bad, did I?"

"no," he sniffles, "sorry d-dont stop. feels good, don't know why I'm crying. just don't stop!"

"relax. relax. I'm not," you reassure, kissing his face again. "you're lucky you are so cute, with all your demands."

he ignores you like he usually does when you tease him, but you are unsure if it is because he is being his usual self or because he is lost in pleasure.

seconds later, his hands grab at your shoulder, and he goes silent for a breath. then, just as the first rope shoots out, he cries, "cuming! of fuck. fuck!"

your lover's entire body quivers, and his mouth latches into your skin as the first wave washes over him. his eyes roll back and his mouth falls open with a silent scream. more tears come tumbling down his face, and you watch as the most pathetic amount of cum tonight comes dribbling out. it slides down his flushed cock and mixes with the movements of your hands.

eventually, when he comes down from his high and feels the stinging lick of overstimulation once again, he immediately forces your hand off, pinning the white-stained limb to the ground with frantic eyes. then he turns to you, even with his body jerking every couple of seconds from the aftershock, and glares at you — it doesn't hold much effect, considering his cheeks were flushed red and eyelashes were wet with tears, but it was cute nonetheless. "no. more."

you grin at the demand and use your clean hand to ruffle his hair. "your wish is my command, princess."

he narrows his eyes at the nickname, and the man tears himself from your arms. "I am going to shower," he mumbles before using all of his strength to stand up. he takes a step forward, and immediately he comes tumbling down.

megumi pretends he doesn't see the way his legs are trembling, but you see the way his ear twinged red in humiliation. you, of course, use it to your advantage. "need a little help there, Bambi?"

"you're not allowed to touch me for a week," he grumbles but grabs onto your arm and lets himself be left to the bathroom. it was an empty threat, as they usually are.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!

I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!

Brother's Coworker

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.

A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.

Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.

“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts. 

“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles. 

Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.

“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”

“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head. 

Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest. 

Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”

You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts. 

“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!” 

“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly. 

Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.

“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”

“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you. 

“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”

“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”

Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back. 

“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod. 

“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes. 

Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even. 

This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet. 

He stands like a statue. 

“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.

“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.” 

A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.” 

You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.

Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.

“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.

“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John. 

Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.

Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.

Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.

Christ, how long had you been staring at him?

“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.” 

Your brother slashes you with a grin.

“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals. 

“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.” 

“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.

“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material. 

“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk. 

“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”

“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively. 

“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.

“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind. 

Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down. 

Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.

Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again. 

Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window. 

You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.” 

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”

“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.” 

“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”

“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs. 

Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away. 

He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker. 

Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.

“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes. 

“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.

“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech. 

Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows. 

“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head. 

Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air. 

“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.” 

A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”

You huff and smirk. 

“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows. 

You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder. 

Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.

“That’s my job!” 

Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip. 

“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?” 

The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.

“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed. 

You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat. 

“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”

“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing. 

Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed. 

Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently. 

“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”

“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips. 

“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.” 

Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should. 

“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear. 

He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece. 

You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.” 

By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another. 

Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want. 

Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything. 

“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”

Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed. 

The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava. 

“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”

Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.

Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.

“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.” 

“I just told you—”

“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.” 

Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight. 

What in the hell was going on? 

Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible. 

For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was. 

In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too. 

He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively. 

When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed. 

“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”

“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.

“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.” 

The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” 

Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly. 

“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt. 

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.

Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment. 

“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.” 

“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment. 

Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften. 

You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”

“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?” 

“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.” 

The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.

You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.” 

Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.

“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”

Splaying your hands, you back out. 

“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”  

“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.

“Well, why not?” Simon glares.

“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.

“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”

You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt. 

With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back. 

“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire. 

Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm. 

A secluded home. Nothing around. 

Then why had your words seeped into him?

“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.

—

In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death. 

As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you. 

Silent.

There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.

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[luveline]

I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER

fem, 1.2k

You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before. 

"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you." 

Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck. 

"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly. 

"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity. 

You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now." 

Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him. 

"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly. 

Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for. 

"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired." 

"You don't. Short shift?" 

"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold." 

"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.

The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them." 

You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling. 

What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned. 

That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified. 

"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."

You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp. 

"Can I ask you something too personal?" 

You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask. 

Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it. 

"Are you making enough money?" he asks. 

You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay." 

"Did you think about it?" 

You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?" 

"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down. 

"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend." 

"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault? 

"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both." 

"You could stay with me again." 

You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no." 

He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here. 

"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed." 

The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him. 

He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved. 

The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.  

You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you. 

Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence." 

You're out like a light. 

[twirlyleafs]

“Gold-digger.”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: Angst, arguing I guess

A/N: I’m in such a drought I need requests </3

~~~~

It had been a good weekend. A great one even. The weather had been nice, no rain but not too warm, and not one single DNF which had just about everyone feeling happy. Just a few hours ago you cheered for your boyfriend as he took the steps up to the top of the podium, giggling slightly as he sent you a wink from his high position. You never got tired of seeing Max win, you loved it. Loved how hardworking he was and loved that it gave result. Loved to see him happy. You also most definitely didn’t mind the adrenaline he still had coursing through his body when the two of you got back to the hotel, having him press you up against the shower wall with quick and hard thrusts. Looking at the two of you right now, smartly dressed and sitting on opposite sides of the big table surrounded by your friends, no one could imagine the whimpering mess you’d been just a while ago. You smiled as you watched Max across the table, one hand holding his beer as the other was cupped around Daniel’s ear. By the giant grin on Danny’s face you knew Max was whispering gossip to him and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. All around the table people seemed happy, relaxed, and since it was three weeks until the next GP you all found it necessary to both celebrate a good race weekend and the well-deserved upcoming break.

“You think she’d be with me if I wasn’t rich?” You snapped out of your own thoughts, eyes trailing back to your boyfriend. He seemed to be in the middle of some sort of jokey rant, the glimmer in his eye tipping you off to the fact that he was slightly tipsy. Max nodded to you with a grin as the table laughed. “No way man.” You rolled your eyes but chuckled along. Tipsy Max always pulled stupid jokes but because he was so disgustingly adorable everyone was fine with it.

“Shut up Max.” You pointed your fork at him and he grinned, winking back. For a moment the table seemed to move on to other topics but somehow it ended with Max once again saying something about your relationship. He claimed that he didn’t only have his career to thank Redbull for, they had helped him land you too. This time you couldn’t shrug off the feeling that his words were deeper than just a silly comment and you felt the need for him to finally say he was joking. When he dropped a third comment you pushed your brows together, having had enough, and called him out.

“Max.” Your voice had him shifting his gaze to you, the smile still evident on his face. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the sudden frown on your face. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You don’t think we’d be together if you weren’t with Redbull?” You were in disbelief, not really comprehending what he was actually talking about. Joking about. Max only shrugged, sporting a carefree smile.

“Maybe if I drove for Ferrari too.” He joked, still keeping the conversation light.

“Not McLaren? That wouldn’t be good enough?” Lando spoke up from the other end of the table and when Max answered with an exaggerated frown and shake of his head everyone once again started laughing. You didn’t. You watched your boyfriend, the big smile on his face as he joked about your relationship making you feel sick. Was he even joking? Or did he actually sincerely believe that the two of you wouldn’t be a couple, that you wouldn’t date him, if he wasn’t rich? It took Max a few moments before his gaze landed on you again, the grin simmering down when he saw the look on your face.

“Are you serious?” You asked again, even though you were starting to realize you wouldn’t like the answer. Max just chuckled and you felt your heart crack at the prospect of him actually thinking you were with him for the money. With a hard swallow you leaned back in your chair, focusing your gaze down into your wineglass as the table moved on.

The rest of the night you did your best to keep up, forcing smiles and laughs even though you wanted nothing else than to sink through the floor. Max didn’t seem to notice. You took note of who payed for dinner, Charles, and made sure you transferred him your share the second you and Max got back to the hotelroom. You had never done that before, no one had, because one of the guys usually offered to take the tab and Max had told you they basically took turns paying. It had never crossed your mind before, but after tonight’s conversations it felt important to pay for yourself.

“Liefje?” Max called from the bedroom as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, removing your makeup. He popped his head through the door a second later, a slight frown on his face. “Chuck is asking why you’re sending him money?”

“Because he paid for dinner.” You answered simply, swiping a cotton pad across your cheeks. Max huffed.

“So?”

“So I’m paying for what I ate. And drank.” You paused to look at him through the mirror. When he still sported a questioning pout you sighed. “Don’t want him to think we’re just friends because he’s rich.” It took Max a moment to process your words, connecting them to earlier that night. When he did he couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“You’re mad about that whole thing?” He asked and it honestly chocked you that he could be so surprised about it. When you broke the eye contact, moving back to start moisturizing your face, he let out another breathy laugh. “Seriously y/n?”

“You’re an asshole Max.” You muttered. Max shuffled closer to you. Even though you were annoyed, mad even, you didn’t stop his hands from smoothing over your hips. You watched his smile through the mirror but didn’t reciprocate it.

“Don’t be mad about that.” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. In moments like this you hated that he knew exactly how to make you break. You felt your anger slowly subside when he kneaded his fingers into the skin above your hips, lips still pressing warm kisses against your bare skin. You had almost forgotten how upset you were until he spoke up again. Max had placed his lips just against your ear, something that would usually make you shiver in a good way. Now it had your skin burning hot in anger instead. “I don’t mind paying for you, I like that you like it.”

In a millisecond you had pushed him away, quickly turning to look at him instead. “Are you fucking serious?”

“What?

“I don’t like that you spend your money on me. That’s not why I’m with you, I- how can you even say that? I would love you even if you worked at a fucking gas station.” You were frustrated now, even more so when you saw Max roll his eyes. He obviously still thought you were being dramatic, that this whole thing was kind of amusing.

“Oh let’s be real, we wouldn’t be together if I wasn’t driving in f1 and you weren’t a model. Drivers date models and we do that because we have money, it’s not more complicated than that.” He said it so casually, leaning his hip against the sink. You stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. It had been bad enough to know that he thought you used him, but now he’s admitting to only dating you for your looks and your work and suddenly everything felt ten times worse.

“You’re only with me because I’m a model, is that what you’re saying?” You asked slowly, impressed with yourself for keeping your voice steady and the tears at bay. Max shook his head.

“That’s obviously not what I mean, but-“

“Because in that case you can find someone else to spend your precious money on. I’m sure you can pay some hotter girl to be your girlfriend if that’s what you think a relationship is supposed to be like.” Your words were sharp and you saw his face drop just before you turned around, walking out of the bathroom. You immediately went to your suitcase, throwing it up on the bed. Max was quick to follow, stopping you from opening it with a strong hand on top.

“That’s not what I meant.” He repeated, finally seeming to understand the seriousness in his earlier words.

“But it’s what you said. It’s what you’ve been saying the whole night actually. You believe that we’re in some sort of business with each other where I get to use your money and you get to, what? Be like your friends? Date a model? That’s making you feel cool?” You shoved his hand away from your bag, dragging the zipper all around it to open. “I believe -believed- that we loved each other and wanted to be together because we enjoy it. I guess there was some miscommunication.”

“No, no you’re twisting my words.” Max argued, dragging his fingers through his hair in a stressed demeanor while he watched you start to pack your stuff into the bag. “I’m not saying-“

“I think you’ve said enough tonight, actually.” Shoving your suitcase shut again you paused to look up at your boyfriend. Or whatever he was now. He stared at you with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. The situation had escalated too quickly for him to follow and now all of a sudden he was panicking. “I’m gonna knock on Danny’s door, see if I can sleep there. I would advise you to figure out how you see us because if I’m simply someone you think you’re buying to be with you I’m out.”

“Schatje-“ he began, reaching a hand out to touch you. You moved away, pulling your bag down on the floor.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[angelltheninth]

His Favorite Used Toy

Pairing: Valentino x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, porn work, watching, overstimulation, aphrodisiac use, marking, body cumshots, degradation, name-calling, orgasm control, eye-contact, creampie, very brief gangbang, free use, aftercare, cockwarming, protective Valentino

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: The result of horny thoughts at 3AM. I have no excuse, I won't make up excuses and I'm not sorry lmao.

All of your co-stars had their eyes on you, eyeing every inch of your naked body, but the only person you looked at was him. Valentino. You were the only one he looked at as well. Out of everyone on the set you alone held his attention. Your body, bent downwards, with three cocks already in you, your mouth, moaning before taking a fourth, your eyes glazed over from coming so many times in a row.

You kept looking at him, sitting in his chair, grinning at you and mouth one final "Come," for you to obey. Despite your body protesting from overstimulation it obeyed him, as always.

"Oh shit. There she goes again. You really want this cum huh, slut?!" The demon behind you growled out as he pushed his cock all the way in, flooding your insides with more cum. The salty taste was almost too much but you still swallowed it, much to the delight of the lankier demon in front of you.

You couldn't move when they all pulled out and moved away to give Valentino space to walk down to you. You felt his hand fist in your hair and force you to look up at him, "Hmmm. Looks like you broke her. Come here dollface." His arms picked you up and cradled you close to him. Your body bucked against him, head against his neck, your mind so fuzzy you barely registered his words. "Stop coming, you're getting jizz all over my clothes. This shit is worth more then your pussy. Or any of your holes for that matter."

His words reached you but your body wouldn't listen. You kept rolling your hips against him, "Don't stop, please more, I need- mmnh!" Valentino pushed his middle and ring finger in your mouth to shut you the fuck up. But all you did was suck on them.

"It seems like you've had a bit too much. The aphrodisiac's still in your system." He pushed you too far. His other two arms tightened around your body while the third one picked up a sheet from the bed to cover you with.

"We can take care of her Boss." One of your co-stars supplied. You shook your head and held onto him tighter. Valentino sighed, but couldn't let them know he was playing favorites.

"You had your fun with her." His sharp gaze could silence anyone instantly, except for you, who moaned upon seeing it. "Travis. Send the footage to be edited. I'm gonna take this pretty little thing to my office. No one is allowed in."

The owl demon nodded, "Understood Valentino, sir."

At least Travis was harmless. Valentino walking to his office was a bit of a blur for you, you heard him whispering in your ear, you felt his hands on you, stoking the fire deep down in your belly, rendering your hips incapable of staying still.

"Take a breather, darling." He sat in his chair and pressed you backwards by your shoulders. His heart-shaped glasses obscured eyes, but you new of the care in them. "You took a lot today."

"But Val... more..." As you grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss he didn't hesitate to kiss you back, his taste washing away the taste of cum on your tongue. Instead of salty you started to taste the sweetness. "More cock. Your cock next." You grinned up at him and rolled your hips against the bulge in his pants, "I know you wanna. You always wanna fuck me after. Claim me. Come on, what are you waiting for?"

"If I fuck you now I really will break you. Can't break one of my favorite cocktoys. I make good money of your sexy body, but I love that mind of yours too. So stop being a cumwhore and listen to me. Rest. Understood?" He used his dominating voice this time, his glasses placed away on the desk and his hands digging into your thigh.

"Yes, Val." You complied with a shaky breath.

"Good girl. Tell you what, to make sure you behave I'll give you this." Two of his hands lifted you up, the other two unzipping his pants and pulling out his hard cock. You smiled down at him, your lips parting more and more with every inch that filled your abused pussy. "There. Will that make you calm?"

You nuzzled further against him, your pussy finally feeling good again. "It's a start."

"Needy little slut." Valentino kissed the top of your head. Affection was rare for the Overlord, but not non-existant.

[little-writers-posts]

Keeping You Warm (The Milkman x F!Reader)

Author's Note: It's been a long (LONG) time since I wrote smut, so please excuse anything, plus English is not my native language so I apologise for any mistakes. But I do hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ Smut. However, it's quite light/soft, so to speak. The reader has a female genitalia.

Word Count: 1.957

“Double shift again, Francis?” I asked over the phone.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” I heard Francis’ tired voice say in almost a whisper.

“Is there really no other person who could take the shift? It’s the third time this week, Francis. You’re killing yourself.” I sighed as I rested my head on my hand.

“Not really; everyone has been quitting lately because of the rise in the number of the doppelgangers' sights.” I heard the sound of glass bottles clattering in the background.

“Just… Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You’re already tired and worn out. I understand that there’s a job that needs to be done, but you’re human.”

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Get your rest. You need it more than I do. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone, lowered my head, and laid it on the table.

It has been nearly two weeks since I last saw Francis, which is foolish since we live in the same apartment. However, due to our jobs and taking shifts, our schedules haven't been exactly the same. It’s actually gotten worse because he’s been taking double shifts to cover the lack of people, and now he has to deliver the milk and stay an extra shift preparing all the packs for the next day, which means not only collecting the empty bottles but also refilling them and sorting them out in the boxes. We only see each other when the other one is asleep since I start my shifts early, and he only gets home quite late.

As I was lost in thought, someone knocked on the window. Steven was waving his papers to get into the building.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, proceeding with my work.

Eventually, my shift ended, and I went to my and Francis’ apartment. While setting down my things, I checked my schedule for the next day, and a big smile spread across my face. It was a day off. I decided to wait up for Francis, so for the next few hours, I occupied myself with getting dinner ready and tidying up the house. When I ran out of things to do, I sat in the living room watching one of my favorite shows.

It was past midnight when I heard the keys to the front door. Francis walked in looking as tired as ever, sighing as he locked the door, the tension leaving his shoulders at being home becoming visible.

“Welcome home, love,” I said, getting up from the couch.

“I told you not to wait up, (Y/N),” Francis whispered as he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight.

“I’m not working tomorrow, so I thought I would wait for you,” I whispered back. I held his face in my hands, and he looked exhausted. “Do you want to go to bed? We could cuddle a little before sleep.”

“I would like that,” he smiled.

He followed me into the bedroom and started to get changed. I got in bed while waiting for him.

Soon, I felt his arms around my waist and his lips pressed against my neck. I turned off the lights and faced him. I put my palm on his cheek and caressed it with my thumb. I heard him sigh and move his head closer and I held it between my hands. His lips met mine in a soft and slow kiss.

“I missed you” Francis’s embrace tightened.

“I missed you too, my love” I smiled.

We kissed again, our lips moving slowly, just appreciating each other’s presence. His hand moved from my waist to my hip and down to my butt, giving it a light squeeze. I gasped slightly, and Francis took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside my mouth. What was just a lingering kiss turned into something more pressing. The warmth and softness of our lips, the wet touch of tongues, and the subtle taste of each other only added to my incoming arousal.

Unconsciously, I pushed my hips against his during the kiss, feeling his semi-hard dick. Francis moaned into the kiss. With his hand under my neck, he grabbed a fist full of my hair at the back of my head, squeezing tight and deepening the kiss. His other hand moved back to my waist, slipping under my shirt, caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps all over me.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the kiss and leaving both of us panting.

Francis rested his forehead on mine, and his hands continued rubbing the skin of my waist and neck.

“I thought you were tired,” I smiled.

“I am, but I want you,” he said hoarsely.

At the same time, his leg slipped between mine, pulling me closer by the waist. I could feel his need pressing against my intimate parts. I squeezed his leg between mine, rubbing my heat trying to ease my aching, but I knew he was exhausted, so I took the lead.

“What if I keep you warm?” I asked.

I spit a bit into my hand and reached for his pants, slipping under the waistband and into his underwear. I took his dick and started slowly moving, feeling him twitch. Francis groaned, and I felt his breath at the top of my head; he hugged me tighter and started to slowly, rocking his hips against my hand. I felt a chill down my spine; my core throbbed, and I felt it was getting wetter.

“Prep me up?” I mumbled.

Francis hummed, agreeing. His hand went from my waist to my heat, massaging my skin lightly along the way, and he pressed one finger to my entrance. I moaned quietly, continuing to pump him. He started to spread my juices around my lips and then pushed one finger inside. I moved my hips along with his finger, Francis kept his movements slow, and with each thrust, he touched a new spot inside me. Soon, he added a second finger, making me moan again and grind my hips in his hand.

“And I thought I was in need,” Francis chuckled.

“Francis…” I whimpered.

He pressed his thumb into my clit and began his scissors movements inside me, also curling his fingers to reach that sweet spot and stroke it, making me roll my eyes and breath heavily. I lifted my head, looking once again for his lips, and captured them in a hungrily open-mouth kiss, our tongues stroking each other rapidly and messy, with spit starting to drip.

I felt my walls pulsing around his fingers and that tickling sensation in my lower belly rushing me to grind faster. But I forced myself to stop. I pulled my hand away from his throbbing dick and grabbed his wrist, moving him away from me. I pushed Francis by the shoulder, laying his back on the mattress, and undressed myself. I lifted my leg and sat across Francis's lap, pulling his clothes down, freeing his dick, making him groan.

I kissed his tip and licked his entire length, from bottom to top, taking him to my mouth next. I took him until his tip reached the back of my throat and pumped the rest with my hand. I bobbed my head, sucking him and pressing my tongue against his flesh. Francis gave a husky groan and thrust his hips, hands tangling my hair.

When his dick was all wet, I raised myself and aligned my entrance with his tip. I slowly sink into him, feeling him twitch, relinquishing the feeling of his dick filling me up until he was all of him was inside me.

I set my hands on his stomach, getting used to the sensation of having him inside. Francis released a strangled breath, his hands resting on my thighs, caressing them with his thumbs.

When I was about to move, Francis took a strand of my hair and nestled it behind my ear, pulling me towards him by the back of my neck right after. He kissed me again, lips moving rapidly, only pulling away when we needed air.

The sudden movement had me squeezing his dick and he grinded his hips against me.

“Fucking tight,” Francis whispered.

I began rocking my hips, Francis matched my pace by grinding into me. Grunts and pants echoed in the bedroom; my hands were back on his stomach for balance, his hands pressed firmly on my waist to guide my movements and leave bruises. Each thrust felt heavenly, his dick sliding in and out, hitting the right spots every time, making me whimper and my legs shake.

The familiar tickling feeling in my lower belly came back, and my movements became erratic, faster, and sloppier, chasing that rush.

“I’m cuming,” I begged.

“Wait for me,” Francis urged.

He grabbed my leg and pushed my back onto the mattress. Settled between my legs, Francis resumed his movements, thrusting deep and fast. The change in position made me whine and squeeze him even tighter; it was bliss, the feeling of his weight on me, his grinding, and his dick rubbing every part inside me and hitting just the right spot.

“Francis, please” I begged again.

“Almost there” he grunted.

I tried my best to delay my incoming orgasm, focusing on Francis, on his short breaths, his muscles stiffening beneath my fingers, his raspy moans in my ear, just everything about him, taking my mind away from the pleasure he was giving me.

I tightened my legs around his body and my nails scratched his back, I was so close.

“Cum with me,” Francis pleaded.

I focused back on the sensation in my lower area. Francis sped up his pace, with chaotic and messy movements, as he began to shake. I felt the buildup of tension that made my back arch and my toes curl, like a clenching feeling. As soon as I thought that I couldn’t take it anymore, I sensed all that tension being released and pulsing throughout my body, an all-consuming release and euphoria. I moaned loudly against Francis's skin.

At the same time, Francis tensed up gave his final deep thrust and his dick throbbed inside me, releasing all of his seed, filling me up.

Francis kissed my lips tenderly, again, again and again, holding my face while supporting the weight of his body on one arm.

“I love you” he whispered between kisses.

“I love you too” I giggled, kissing him back.

He lay next to me, pulling me onto his chest. We stayed like that for a while, still panting and recovering.

“I’ll get you some water and a towel,” he said kissing my temple.

“No, it's okay I’ll get it” I pushed him down and got up. “I have to use the bathroom anyway. Do you need anything?”

“Just some water, please”.

I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself and then got a glass of water from the kitchen. When I came back to the bedroom, Francis’s breathing was deep and slow, suggesting that he was already asleep. I smiled and placed the water on his nightstand, I gave a small peck on his lips and laid down in bed, feeling my muscles relaxing after so much tension and pleasure.

The fact that our lives are regularly in danger because of the doppelgangers leaves everyone on edge, meaning that our time together safe at home is a blessing and a getaway from everything on the outside. Losing ourselves in each other is not only a reminder of being alive but also a reassurance that the other person we love so much is still by our side.

Thinking about all the things we do for each other, and while caressing softly Francis's face, I also fell asleep.