#im not complaining im just noting it down

[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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

________________________________

"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

[sskk-manifesto]

(*・ω・*)b♪

[elminsters]

okay after spending the past 2 hours exclusively reblogging from tags WITHOUT turning on any content filters, here are my findings:

number of terrible, psychic damage dealing takes spotted: 0 number of beautiful new mutuals gained: 2 number of incredible fanworks i would never have seen if i hadn't specifically sought them out instead of relying on people i follow to do it for me: 18

i hope this proves my point, if you only rely on your following tab to deliver posts to you you're only going to see what's popular in your little circle. that's why posts seem to only circulate amongst mutuals and it's hard to "break containment". it really isn't reasonable to expect non-mutuals to reblog your stuff if you're unwilling to reciprocate and step outside your bubble. being part of the solution is a group effort!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[robotpussy]

like ok i am still a little angry that I'm the one getting "punished" (aka potential homelessness). I'll be over this soon tho I'm just kind of shocked that i cant even say i cant sleep at night cause some bitch wants to lie to these people's faces so i look like the villain

[muirneach]

i had heard tales of the car centric small cities auf western north america but good lord it’s worse out here than i thought. god bless you all in your struggles

[rohirric-hunter]

A while ago I submitted a bug report in LotRO and I got a generic kind of ‘We’re aware of this issue and working on it’ reply, but then at the end of the message it said I could keep up with things like that on the LotRO forums and really? Really? I am playing a game that I love, staying in my lane, minding my business, and instead of submitting bug reports they want me to go to the LotRO forums? Last time I went to the LotRO forums I encountered a pack of individuals who want female dwarves and apparently female Stout-axes don’t count because they’re the same as male dwarves and to these people it seemed obvious that the gender option on Stout-axe dwarves was meant as a joke. They refused to elaborate on what traits they would like these new “real” female dwarves to have and accused everyone who was happy with the Stout-axe option or just mentally assigning whatever gender they liked to their regular dwarf of being “conservative dinosaurs.” I wouldn’t willingly spend time on the LotRO forums if they paid me. Fuck that.

[29121996]

am at my limit

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚🥀₊✧ 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝘂𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡₊˚🥀₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 king x concubine 𖥔 lots of plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 normal form sukuna (sorry yall but next time ill do his big boy one) 𖥔 he only has eyes for you 𖥔 you're his darling 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 breeding (!!!!) 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 8.8k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this took a whole WEEK to edit. im so obsessed with this story. it's my favourite thing ive written because i love period movies and dramas and really got to challenge my writing skills to give it more a fantasy-esque element. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

The diligent hands of Lord Sukuna Ryomen’s palace attendants scrubbed away the grime that clung to every inch of your weary form. There were no traces of tears in your eyes, despite the discomfort of the cleansing process.

Perhaps it was the residue of gratitude for an escape from a foster family who saw fit to barter you away for a pittance to fuel their vices.

The water surrounding you had transformed into a murky haze, carrying away the evidence of your former life's hardships.

Yet, amidst this cleansing ritual, you couldn’t shake the puzzling thought of why the guards had singled you out from the other young women within the household. Uraume, the overseer of palace affairs, had arrived alongside them, their presence looming over the proceedings with an air of mystery.

That morning, you were subjected to abuse in front of everyone at the central market, longing for someone to stand up for you. And someone did. They offered you an escape from that hellhole and into a world of luxury.

You weren’t going to complain now that you had accepted this new fate of yours.

“Ya’ got too many scars, girl,” remarked one of the elderly attendants, gently assisting you out of the steaming bath, her hands wrapping a towel around your shivering form. “Our powders will struggle to conceal ’em all. How did ya’ come by such marks?”

“From my foster family,” you murmured, gaze fixed upon your toes as if they held the weight of your past. The plush carpet beneath your feet offered a small comfort, a luxury unfamiliar to your upbringing.

Memories of their harsh discipline flooded back—the blistering gravel underfoot as punishment for daring to voice dissent. It was a brutal introduction to a world where obedience was paramount.

“A wretched lot,” the attendant muttered sympathetically.

Enveloped in a silk robe, she led you into a chamber shared by a cohort of women, a realm far removed from the confines of your previous abode. Here, space was ample—the expanse excessive, with beds lining the walls and a high ceiling adorned with a single chandelier.

As you entered, a symphony of pretty faces and inquisitive gazes greeted you. Women of all colours and shapes reclined luxuriously in plain robes, their hair intricately braided or cascading freely down their backs. Conversations paused, curiosity piqued by your arrival, as all eyes turned to welcome you into their midst.

Beneath the weight of their scrutinising stares, you found yourself shrinking. These women, draped in silk and adorned with jewels, were the king's favoured concubines, a fact repeatedly emphasised during your journey to the palace and even in the fragrant confines of the bathhouse.

Every instinct urged you to rebel, to refuse to be just another ornament in the king’s harem, but you understood the value placed on purity by the monarch.

Unfortunately, your innocence had been cruelly stolen from you by your foster father, leaving you tarnished in body and spirit. Lord Sukuna would have no use for a damaged flower in his garden of perfection.

In truth, you couldn’t even imagine an image of his face in your mind. His Lordship remained a mystery to those beyond the palace walls.

“Here ya’ are.” The attendant guided you to your bed. “That vanity there’s yours to use.” She gestured toward the communal area by the window, where two other young women were preparing themselves. “Once your hair dries, one of my girls will assist ya’ in preparin’ for your audience with His Lordship.” Her touch was gentle as she caressed your cheek. “Rest assured, dear, ya’ safe now.”

You attempted a smile, though the effort seemed Herculean amidst your weariness.

As the attendant departed, her scolding to the rowdy girls fading into the background, you nestled into the comforting embrace of your soft bedding, ignoring the hushed criticisms trailing in your wake.

She’s feeble.

Her hair lacks refinement.

The king would never entertain a lowly pauper.

She’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Their words, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air.

Amidst their degradation, you succumbed to exhaustion.

But your slumber was interrupted by the bustling commotion of handmaidens assembling around you.

Disoriented and scarcely given a moment to collect your thoughts, you found yourself swiftly escorted to the vanity, where the clamour of girls jostling for space filled the air.

They manipulated your locks, weaving intricate patterns into your hair, fashioning a crown braid atop your head while allowing the remaining tresses to cascade freely down your back.

Meanwhile, other attendants removed your robe, their hands moving with practised efficiency as they anointed your skin with fragrant oils, infusing it with the delicate essence of lavender.

Between the flurry of activity, the whispers of your fellow concubines hung in the air like a veil of awe and trepidation. Their eyes were drawn to the scars marring your skin, as they speculated about how the king would perceive your imperfections as repulsive.

Good.

You craved precisely that outcome.

If the king recoiled at your sight, it meant he wouldn’t desire you to bear his heir. If the tales circulating in the town about his monstrous nature held any truth, then he’d likely offer you death as a reprieve—and you’d welcome it with open arms.

Before facing the king, you stole a glance at your reflection, the final moments of solitude before your fate was decided. The powder concealed the imperfections of your skin, rendering it smooth and flawless. Your cheeks and lips bore a muted hue reminiscent of crushed cherries. Delicate white blossoms adorned your hair, woven into your braids by nimble fingers.

As you stood, the other women adorned you in a robe of silky fabric, its floral pattern draping over your form, cinched at the waist to accentuate your curves. Barefoot, you followed them out, the chill of the floor beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth of anticipation and trepidation swirling within you.

“Good luck, pauper,” taunted one of the concubines, her voice dripping with disdain, echoed by a cacophony of mocking laughter.

Palms clammy with nerves, you shifted your gaze to the opulence of the palace corridors. Adorned with countless chandeliers and swathes of velvet drapery, they offered a stark contrast to the blooming back garden. Memories of tending to the earth and nurturing life back at your foster family’s home flooded your mind.

“Quickly now,” one of the maids urged, her voice tinged with urgency. “His Lordship detests tardiness.”

“I apologise.” You hastened your steps to keep pace with the group of attendants.

She halted before a grand set of double doors, guarded by imposing sentinels clad in formidable armour. With a flick of her wrist, the guards swung the doors open. She gently nudged you forward, and only as you crossed the threshold did the doors seal shut behind you.

You blinked, adjusting to the dimness within, scanning the chamber until your gaze alighted upon a pair of crimson glimmers opposite you. “My Lord?” You inclined your head and took hesitant steps toward the source of those fiery eyes.

“Come closer,” his command echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down your spine. The low resonance of His Highness Sukuna Ryomen’s voice was unexpectedly rich and velvety. You had envisioned a voice tinged with age, but instead, it possessed a rough texture that awoken something within you.

With hesitant steps, you approached until you stood at the edge of his bed, your fingertips grazing the diaphanous curtains that enveloped him in a cocoon of privacy.

“Closer,” he urged, coaxing you to unveil the enigma lying beyond the veil.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you obeyed, parting the curtains and gracefully crawled onto the mattress. The silkiness of the sheets were a blatant contrast to the roughness of your foster house’s. A pang of guilt tugged at your conscience as you realized the irony of finding solace in this luxurious confinement of being his concubine.

“Enough.” His abrupt order halted your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present moment.

As commanded, you obediently settled into your posture, folding your legs beneath you in the dimness. Within his shadowed realm, only the luminous crimson irises pierced through the gloom, studying you with an intensity that made your belly churn. Despite the curiosity burning within you, you restrained the impulse to voice your questions. Instead, you settled in the tranquillity that crowded the space between you.

“What is your name?” His inquiry cut through the hushed air.

“Y/N, my Lord.”

As your name slipped from your lips, he captured it delicately, repeating it like a sacred prayer. Each syllable danced on his tongue, imprinting itself upon the very essence of his being. In that moment, you observed a subtle shift—the shadows that had cloaked the chamber seemed to dissipate.

A soft, golden luminescence filtered through the parted curtains, cascading across half of Sukuna’s face.

You blinked in astonishment.

He appeared . . . young?

The age difference between you and him was not a chasm of decades, but rather a modest gap of no less than five years.

Physically, at least.

His appearance was striking, with locks of hair dyed a subdued pink hue, contrasting with a streak of darker shade beneath. His hair was styled into rugged spikes, lending an air of defiance. Intricate black markings adorned his features, tracing a path from his cheekbones down to his chin, while similar patterns wove across his strong shoulder, cascading over his defined pectoral muscles and sculpted abdomen.

As your eyes fell upon him, your heart quickened its pace, each beat a vicious drumming against your ribs. Gone was the expectation of a lord showing the signs of wisdom, with wrinkles upon his brow and a body marked by the passage of time. Instead, before you stood a vision of breathtaking beauty, defying your preconceived notions and leaving you breathless in awe.

With a graceful gesture, he swept aside the curtains, allowing them to unveil his entirety.

The same markings mirrored the other side of his face and cascaded down the length of his body, a mesmerising display of symmetry. Dark bands encircled his wrists, and his nails bore the same deep hue.

Poised against the headboard, he reclined with an air of effortless elegance, one knee raised as his elbow found a comfortable perch, while the other leg extended out. Though he was unclothed, a veil of silk sheets cloaked the lower half of his form.

“Remarkable,” you unknowingly whispered. Your hand clapped over your mouth. “I apologise, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s lips curved into a sinister grin, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light. While many would flee at the sight, you remained rooted in place, unable to tear your gaze away. A delicate flush spread across your cheeks, betraying the undeniable attraction simmering between your legs. He was absolutely divine, and the path of being his concubine suddenly didn’t seem so terrible.

Yet, the reality of sharing Sukuna with ten other women loomed over your thoughts like a shadow. The thought of him spreading his affections among so many others kindled a small flame of jealousy within you, mingled with confusion. Why hadn’t he impregnated at least one of them with the promise of an heir?

“Have you not been schooled in the art of lowering your gaze in the presence of nobility, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered as you registered your lapse in decorum, hastily averting your gaze. “Forgive me, my Lord, if my oversight has caused offence.” Surely, he wouldn’t punish you for a momentary lapse of admiration.

Would he?

A gentle touch beneath your chin guided your face upward. His fingers spread across your cheek, the warmth nearly forcing you to curve into his touch. Despite the temptation, your eyes remained obediently downward.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the delicate patterns etched over his cheek, the fiery hue of his irises, the elegant contour of his nose, and the soft curvature of his lips. Never before had you felt such a rousing desire towards any man. Yet fate had chosen to ensnare your heart with the one most forbidden to you.

“You bear a sadness that weighs heavily in your eyes,” he noted softly, his hand descending to the curve of your neck, his thumb caressing the frantic rhythm of your pulse. A low, melodic sound produced from his throat. “Tell me, my love, does the face before you stir fear within your heart?”

“It does not, my Lord. The fear of your appearance holds no dominion over me,” you declared with quiet resolve. “You’re quite . . . beautiful.”

Sukuna’s gaze sparked with a mixture of surprise and intrigue at your response.

Suppressing a nervous gulp, you silently reprimanded yourself for speaking so boldly to one of noble rank. Back in the confines of your former life, such defiance would have earned you swift punishment, yet here, in the presence of royalty, it could lead to your demise.

As you prepared to avert your gaze, ready to accept whatever consequences may come, Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense air before you could retreat.

“Don’t.”

In that moment, you found yourself questioning your instincts.

Why did you not cower in fear? Why did your body not tremble in the presence of a man who had slaughtered the lives of his enemies without hesitation? And most perplexing of all, how could you maintain unwavering eye contact with a figure of such formidable power?

“Remove your robe.” His grip remained firm around your throat, his thumb delicately tracing your pulse. “And do not stray your gaze elsewhere.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your fingers loosened the fabric’s bindings, allowing it to cascade down your frame. The robe slipped from your shoulders, revealing the soft curvature of your form beneath. As it pooled around your lap, your breasts stood exposed to his scrutiny.

A shiver danced across your skin as his eyes traced the contours of your body, a faint smirk teasing his lips.

He brushed back strands of your hair, his touch trailing down your vertebrate. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, brows knitted together in contemplation, fingers repeatedly tracing the ridges of your scars.

“Turn around.”

The dreaded discovery that sent ripples of revulsion through the concubines had finally come to pass. Your scars lay exposed before the gaze of a powerful lord. Not only would he slit your throat, but also those of the maids who had tended to your needs, and perhaps even Uruame, who had brokered your purchase from the bastards responsible for your imperfections.

“Never before have I been compelled to repeat myself for a concubine.” His voice carried a lethal edge as he increased his grip around your throat. “Turn the fuck around.”

Your compliance came in slow, measured movements as you turned away, presenting your back to him in a gesture of submission. His hands gathered the strands of your hair, lifting them aside to reveal the raw truth etched into your skin. His fingers traced the jagged remnants of whip lashes, the seared imprints of cigars, and the cruel reminders of knife wounds inflicted by a foster father turned tormentor.

Silent tears traced a path down your cheeks, as you sat in a state of numbness, your gaze fixed upon the closed door of Sukuna’s chamber.

A tender sensation, soft and moist, grazed your back, prompting a reflexive twitch in your left shoulder.

Turning slightly, you beheld Sukuna pressing his lips against the scar that marred your shoulder blades.

“My Lord—”

“I did not ask you to speak,” he murmured over your skin, sending a tremor through your frame. “Rise onto your knees.”

Obeying his command, you ascended onto your knees, feeling the weight of his hands settle upon your waist. His lips trailed a path of reverence, bestowing kisses upon each mark that scarred your skin, from your marrow to your nape.

Your breath caught in a delicate dance of exhales, a whispered symphony escaping your parted lips. The wet caress of his tongue sent ripples of sensation coursing through your being.

His arm circled your waist, drawing you into the sanctuary of his embrace. A fleeting kiss graced the nape of your neck, followed by the suction of his lips upon the tender side of your neck. His soft hands possessively held the curve of your breasts, cradling their weight.

Your head reclined against his strong shoulder.

With his gaze fixed upon you, his lips glistened with a hint of moisture, while his crimson eyes locked onto your own human-like ones. You dared not divert your gaze as he previously ordered. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, sending lightning strikes through your frame.

Unlike the non-consensual encounter of the past, there was no hint of agony; only a tantalising blend of pleasure that left you breathless, without a protest or helpless whimper. Instead, a sigh of pure rapture escaped your lips, encompassing your body in an embrace.

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he had stumbled upon a long-sought treasure.

His fingertips skated down your torso, gliding toward your centre. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth. Holding his gaze became a daunting challenge as he skillfully teased your sensitive nub, causing your breath to quicken and your chest to rise and fall with each exhilarating sensation.

Sukuna slid his middle finger into you. “You’re incredibly tight, Sad Eyes,” he murmured, the endearment he had bestowed upon you almost provoking a smile. His lips grazed your ear as he continued. “Perhaps I should stretch you out”—he pushed in his ring finger, forcing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat and an involuntary arch of your body against his chest—“so that your cunt is able to welcome my cock.”

You stifled the knot rising in your throat as Sukuna plunged his fingers into you. Such profound bliss seemed inconceivable with mere digits alone.

“My Lord.” Your breath caught as he increased his tempo. “My—” Each thrust intensified the knot in your stomach, threatening to unravel you entirely. You teetered on the brink, dangerously close to staining his fingers with your release. A sharp gasp choked out of you as he struck a wondrous chord deep within. “Please, my Lord. I beg of you—I will soil your hand if you persist—” But your plea dissolved into a cry of ecstasy before you could utter another word.

Sukuna’s laughter danced teasingly in the hollow of your ear, leaving you utterly spellbound.

You were overheated, overstimulated, overridden by the explosive undoing of his fingers. Breathless and consumed by lust, your world spun as he seized your jaw and crushed his lips to yours.

In that electrifying moment, his tongue invaded your mouth, initially startling you, yet you surrendered to the rhythm.

Sukuna leaned back slightly after planting a tender peck on your lips. Exhaling softly, he threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch sending shivers down your spine. As his lips met yours once more, gentler this time, your hand ventured to trace the contours of his adorned chest.

“You are quite the vixen.” A playful glint danced in his eyes. “How valiant of you to seduce a lord into bestowing kisses upon his concubine.” A broad smile graced his lips, leaving you uncertain whether his words were playful jest or genuine admiration.

“Do you not bestow your kisses upon all your concubines, my Lord?”

“I do not pleasure their cunts, either.”

His speech carried the brashness of a tempest, a departure from the expected decorum one associated with royalty. Sukuna Ryomen defied conventions. It was a trait uncommon among lords, yet one that intrigued you deeply. His demeanour, both in battle and in the intimate confines of the bedchamber, lacked the softening. But you found yourself drawn to his unfiltered honesty, appreciating the absence of cryptic speech.

As you sat before him, considering your next words carefully, a surge of courage emboldened you to reveal your truth.

“My Lord,” you began, your voice quivering with uncertainty, “I . . . I am not pure.”

“Given the sounds you were drawing out,” he quipped with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have surmised otherwise.” He assisted you in rising from where you rested against his chest, positioning you before him. Observing your solemn expression, he arched an eyebrow in curiosity. “Was your satisfaction not fulfilled?”

“Indeed, my Lord, it surpassed any expectation,” you confessed, worrying your lip as he sighed impatiently. “But I must disclose . . . I am not chaste.”

Sukuna’s response was subdued, save for the faint twitch in his jaw. He averted his gaze from yours momentarily, reaching for the decanter on his bedside table and pouring himself a measure of spirits.

“Speak,” he instructed, his tone clipped.

“It occurred before I reached maturity,” you murmured softly, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself. “My foster father—” Your words faltered as Sukuna raised a hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comprehension of your unspoken anguish.

“I need not hear more.” He swiftly consumed the crimson liquid in a single gulp. “You are dismissed for the night.”

“But my Lord’s desires remain unmet—”

“Leave,” he commanded, his tone final and unwavering.

With a gulp, you hastily gathered your robe around your form, delicately extricating yourself from his expansive bed.

Just as you thought to retreat, a firm hand seized your wrist, drawing you back into Sukuna’s embrace. His lips melded with yours in an intoxicating kiss, causing both your gazes to flutter open when he pulled away. A faint smirk played upon his lips as he adjusted the robe over your shoulder.

“Next time,” he murmured, plucking a flower from the adornments in your hair and placing it upon his bedside, “you shall grace my chambers without such distracting embellishments upon yourself.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” you replied with a respectful bow of your head, awaiting his dismissal until he gestured for you to depart with a casual wave of his hand.

In the shared chambers, your fellow concubines swirled around your bed, eager to hear of your inaugural encounter with Lord Sukuna.

Each girl shared their own vivid tales, painting scenes of ecstasy under the cloak of darkness, where the king’s touch invoked sensations akin to celestial bodies colliding, or where unfamiliar pleasures erased the boundaries of their throat—whatever that latter entailed.

Though a twinge of jealousy flickered within you, it was swiftly overshadowed by a swell of pride. The concubines pleasured Sukuna in darkness, the same darkness you had willingly entered, before his touch had set ablaze a world of gold for you.

They were merely beautiful means of physical gratification for their lord, devoid of the intimacy you shared—his fingers delving deep into your core. And never had any of them spoken of kisses exchanged. Sukuna had spoken true when you questioned if others received similar treatment.

But why you?

Why, after a mere span of ten hours within the palace walls, did you find yourself, dare you entertain the notion, as his favoured? What magic did you possess that drew him to you, and how had you managed to seduce his lips, his fingers, to meet yours in such an intimate embrace?

“Did he spend himself inside you?” one of the girls whispered, prodding your knee to rouse you from your silence.

“No.”

“Aye, he never does,” remarked a golden-haired girl with a resigned sigh. “He sees to it that we consume some berries afterward, claiming they prevent conception. Strange, isn’t it? Especially if he’s so eager for an heir.”

Another girl hushed her, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone. “Did he take you from behind? That’s his favoured position, you know. He’s had us all that way.”

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to respond.

“And did you savour his taste?” came the next question. “It’s quite rich in sodium—”

“Girls!” A booming voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, startling you and the other concubines into immediate attention. You caught sight of the elderly attendant who oversaw your care, hands planted firmly on her hips as she observed the chaotic scene before her.

With a disapproving huff, she pivoted sharply on her heel and departed, leaving a lingering sense of reprimand in her wake.

As the frenzied chatter about Sukuna’s body attributes gradually dissolved into the quietude of sleep, morning arrived with its routine of communal showerings.

Throughout the shared bath, you silently scrubbed away the remnants of the night, indulging your fellow concubines about your previous life in town.

Upon drying off and exiting the bathing chamber, you were met with an unexpected sight: a gathering of the girls clustered around your bed.

Navigating through the throng, you reached your space to discover a resplendent scarlet silk robe embroidered with intricate black floral patterns.

Gingerly lifting the note placed atop the fabric, you read Sukuna’s precise handwriting. Curious glances from the other concubines peered over your shoulders in anticipation.

No distracting embellishments, Sad Eyes.

“What does that mean?” a curious whisper floated through the air, followed by murmurs of intrigue from the other girls. “Why does he call you ‘sad eyes’?”

You clutched the letter to your chest, suppressing a grin as you ignored the questions, the mockery, and the jostling of bodies around you. Your attention was fixated on the magnificent robe gifted to you by His Lordship.

For the remainder of the evening, you slept without any interruptions, seeking to compensate for the countless nights spent battling insomnia within the confines of your foster home.

You observed with a keen eye that none of the other girls were ushered to Sukuna’s chambers; their time seemed to veer toward strolls in the back garden or spent in the dormitory, indulging in wine-fueled scandals about the palace staff, as was their custom.

As the clock struck eight in the evening, a troupe of maids entered the chamber bearing dinner trays. A wave of anticipation swept through the room as the other girls eagerly accepted their meals and accompanying pitchers of water. Your own stomach rumbled in hunger, awaiting your own turn.

But that moment never arrived.

Instead, the maid bypassed your bed entirely, moving on to the next. A surge of apprehension rippled through you as a handmaiden approached, guiding you away from the mattress and toward the vanity.

“What about my dinner?” you asked as the attendants groomed your hair.

“His Lordship has extended an invitation for you to dine with him tonight,” came the reply.

The room fell into a sudden hush.

Dine with him?

The notion sent a flurry of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before you could process further, you found yourself pulled upright, your garments removed to be replaced by the scarlet robe.

Envy flickered in the eyes of the other concubines as they observed, their resentment palpable as they stabbed at their food with exaggerated aggression. It wasn’t your doing that Sukuna had taken an unexpected interest in you.

With no adornments save for a dab of crushed cherry paste upon your lips, you were escorted to Sukuna’s chambers.

Once more, the imposing doors swung open, and you found yourself gently ushered into the chamber. As they sealed shut behind you, the room was flooded with light. Sukuna’s figure stared out at the moonlit gardens outside, clad in a billowing white silk robe.

“My Lord,” you greeted respectfully, inclining your head in deference.

“Draw near.”

Complying with his directive, you approached and stood at his side. His presence loomed over you, his stature commanding and formidable, capable of engulfing you entirely with a single embrace. Not that such thoughts dared to linger in your mind.

“Why is your face flushed?” he asked, his gaze penetrating.

You blinked, attempting to dismiss the telltale warmth creeping up your cheeks. “It’s nothing, my Lo—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna turned your chin towards him, his palm coming to rest against your forehead. A nervous swallow traced its way down your throat at his touch, his eyes trailing down your form, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as they settled upon you in your robe.

“Thank you for your gracious gift,” you murmured, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.

His fingers trailed through your hair, a mischievous glimmer dancing in his eyes. “I anticipate nothing less than thoroughly enjoying the privilege of removing it off of you.”

You blushed deeper at his statement.

“Come now. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” He took your hand in his with a tug, guiding you towards a doorway. With a simple flick of his fingers, the door parted, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond.

Your gaze widened in astonishment. “How did you do that, my Lord?”

“Do what?”

“You opened the door without laying a hand on it.”

Sukuna’s striking blood-coloured eyes cut to you. “There is much about me that will be unveiled in due course, my love. What you perceive is but a guise for my true nature.” His smile, oddly childlike, sent a chill down your spine.

Was he some sort of sorcerer? You’d only heard whispers of human anomalies lurking beneath the earth’s surface or sealed within vessels, but historical accounts weren't exactly your cup of tea.

“I ventured into town today,” he said.

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, recovering from his previous statement. “I hope it was a fruitful trip.”

“Indeed, quite fruitful.”

In the soft glow of the distant hallway, Sukuna’s face came into view, casting a spell of trepidation upon your heart. His features were drawn into a mask of stoicism, his eyes devoid of warmth, and his lips pressed into a firm line, jaw rigid with tension.

Parting the curtains, Sukuna drew you near, his arm sweeping out to reveal a horrifying sight: your foster father, bound to a chair with chains, bearing the cruel marks of torture.

His face marred by countless wounds, an eye cruelly absent, and teeth scattered at his feet. His dignity stripped away, his vulnerability laid bare in his nakedness, and his manhood amputated.

The sickening lurch in your stomach threatened to betray your composure. “F-Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but is he . . . is he dead?”

Sukuna’s response was a gilded dagger from within his robe, its handle decorated with a jewel reminiscent of your own captivating eyes. Nestled within the hilt was the very flower he had plucked from your hair. Upon the blade, your name was inscribed.

“Do as you wish, my beloved,” he whispered, his voice stained with dark fascination, offering you the instrument of your foster father’s fate with a chilling sense of detachment.

You couldn’t possibly bring yourself to commit such a heinous act.

Despite the unspeakable cruelties inflicted upon you by the bastard, the idea of taking another’s life filled you with a trembling dread.

Yet, the itch to end the torment, to rid the world of such a vile presence, simmered just beneath the surface as you stood before him, his life slipping away.

A hand trailed down the back of your head, guiding your trembling fingers to grasp the dagger tightly.

Looking up, you met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression hollow, his features obscured by shadows. This was the face of the Devil that cursed his enemies on their knees and had them willingly submit to death.

With a push from behind, you stumbled forward, drawing closer to your step-father’s prone form.

Glancing back at Sukuna, you were met with an incongruously bright smile. Quite a twisted paradox, His Lordship.

Your step-father sat unconscious, the stench of his bodily fluids assaulting your senses. His wounds oozed with a sickening mixture of blood and pus, his laboured breaths the only indication of life remaining within him. The scene was painfully familiar, a mirror image of the torment you had endured countless times before.

But now, someone had intervened, offering you a chance at liberation, a chance to end the cycle of abuse once and for all.

You glanced back again.

Until Sukuna.

Your gaze reluctantly returned to the true embodiment of cruelty before you. With a steady hand, you raised your arm, wielding the dagger with purpose.

It found its mark in your foster-father’s chest, a chilling silence punctuated only by the sound of steel meeting flesh. Ignoring the strangled cry that erupted from him, you withdrew the blade, then drove it back into his heart.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

His lifeblood painted your face and stained your pristine garments, mingling with the fabric in a macabre dance of crimson. To the untrained eye, it could easily be mistaken for a mere splash of vibrant colour upon your robe.

No one would dare suspect the truth.

No one would dare come near if they knew of your sin.

No one, except Sukuna.

Once the monster over your bed was consigned to the depths of hell, his guts spilling onto the floor around your bare feet, you allowed yourself a moment of grim satisfaction.

With a contemptuous snarl, you spat upon him, a visceral response to the years of degradation he had inflicted upon you for every misstep.

A comforting warmth touched your back.

Startled by the sudden contact, you tensed before easing at the sight of Sukuna’s faint smile.

As he reached to caress your cheek, you instinctively recoiled, lowering your gaze in deference.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” you murmured, “but I cannot permit you to spoil your hands with the blood of this man.”

Sukuna’s shoes entered your line of sight as he tilted your chin upward, his moon-white sleeve wiping away the traces of blood from your mouth and its vicinity. “You appear rather exquisite painted in blood, Sad Eyes. Perhaps I ought to designate you as my prized assassin instead of a mere concubine.”

“I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I cannot partake in killing . . . again.”

“You need not worry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he drew near. “I will defend you from any who cast their gaze upon you, let alone lay a hand upon your delicate form. Those who dare cross that line will face my wrath, their very existence extinguished before your eyes. Not a single tear shall stain your cheeks.” His lips brushed against yours. “From this moment forward, fear shall not reside within you. By my side, you shall command fear itself, my love.”

That night, Sukuna bathed you in the sanctuary of his chambers, washing away the traces of blood from your skin as you gazed at him with a sense of wonder. It wasn’t the superficial admiration the other concubines whispered about—it was a profound affection blossoming within you, nurtured by power and protection.

He draped you in the luxurious folds of one of his silk robes, summoning servants to prepare dinner. Seated upon his lap, he fed you spoonfuls of rice and chicken, even as your stomach protested its fullness. Soft kisses peppered your neck like a sweet dessert, culminating in one upon your lips before he reluctantly released you to retire to your dormitory.

In the ensuing weeks, Sukuna would consistently send a crafted robe ahead of each meeting—in the serene seclusion of his chambers, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows upon the walls as you dined together.

Over the course of these intimate dinners, he eagerly absorbed your musings, whether they revolved around the narratives of books discovered within the palace library or your adeptness with herbs and plants, nurtured by your profound knowledge.

On occasion, as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sukuna would summon you for a stroll in the haven of the back garden. Woven between the fragrant blooms, you’d dance about with childlike enthusiasm, identifying various flowers and tracing their lineage.

Ever the attentive listener, Sukuna trailed behind you, his gaze fixed upon your animated figure. He would only speak when you fell silent, demanding you to continue sharing the familial ties between apples, plums, and the roses they stemmed from.

Within the crevice of your soul, the once withered garden of affection had flourished into a lush wilderness, blossoming with untamed wildflowers and clouds that spelled out his name.

Sukuna inhabited your every waking thought, his intoxicating mouth that worshipped your body left you giggling in delight behind your hands.

Yet, each encounter with a fellow concubine, flushed and eager with tales of their rendezvous with him, felt like thorns piercing your tender heart. Jealousy, like ivy creeping upon stone, entwined itself around your every plagued thought. Your gaze often strayed to the bedside drawer where the dagger lay dormant. The mere mention of his physique by the other women tormented your soul relentlessly.

Why hadn’t Sukuna taken you as he had with every other concubine? You had grown accustomed to his presence, even eager to reciprocate the pleasure he gifted you every evening. You had offered yourself willingly, aching for the intimacy that would bind you even closer to him. But he had not claimed you in the same manner, not entered you fully, not seeded his legacy within you.

Did he question your worthiness? Did he see you merely as a transient pleasure? Were you destined to remain just a concubine, forever denied the honour of carrying his child?

“Why do you remain silent?” Sukuna asked, turning the pages of the book you had suggested to him; he was already half-way through.

You were seated snugly between his legs upon the bed, your back rested against his chest, fingers idly toying with the strands of your hair. “I find myself devoid of words this evening.”

“Hmm.” Sukuna took a leisurely sip of his drink before placing it aside. “Surely you can conjure something. You know well enough that I cannot endure your silence.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “Well, I apologise for failing to provide you with amusement, my Lord.”

Sukuna snapped the book shut.

You instinctively pressed your lips together, silently chiding yourself for the unintended sharpness in your voice.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to maintaining your composure, forcing yourself to take slow, steady breaths. Deep down, you believed that he wouldn’t inflict harm upon you or cast you out of his chambers. But the nagging thought chewed at you.

This was Sukuna Ryomen, and you . . . well, you were merely a shadow in comparison.

“If you crave my touch,” he breathed softly into your ear, “all you need to do is utter the request.”

With a determined resolve, you turned to face him, settling yourself upon his lap. Sukuna regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, a quiet acknowledgment of your unconventional audacity.

“I do crave your touch, my Lord,” you confessed, your voice a hushed plea, “but not only with your hands or lips. I long to feel you in a different manner.” Your gaze drifted down to his pelvis, the unspoken appetite evident in your eyes. “I crave that.”

Sukuna exhaled heavily, his gaze piercing as he addressed you. “So, you’ve been withholding your words simply because I haven’t fed you my cock?"

Heat rose to your cheeks at his blunt proclamation, though you had grown accustomed to his coarse mannerisms over time.

“Yes, my . . . Lord.” Your voice carried a mixture of embarrassment. “I’ve endured three long months of anticipation, patiently waiting to share in the pleasures enjoyed by your other consorts. Yet, with the arrival of autumn, I find myself still untouched by the experiences they so openly boast about.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking me to bed you merely for the purpose of becoming a notch in your bragging rights?”

“Never, my Lord!” you protested vehemently, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes. “I would never demean you with such vulgar talk in public. I’ve spun tales to the others, concealing the truth of our encounters. They remain oblivious to the pleasures you’ve granted me.” Your fingers traced the intricate markings on his chiselled abdominal muscles. “If my spoiled state displeases you, if I am deemed unworthy of your touch, pray, inform me now. Regardless, my sole wish is to fulfil His Lordship’s needs.”

Sukuna disentangled your hands from his chest, a gesture that caused a fissure to form within your heart, forcing your body to instinctively withdraw from his touch.

Just as you began to pull away, he swiftly encircled his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto his lap with a firm grip. Before you could utter a single word, his lips descended upon yours, silencing any protest with a passionate kiss.

With a purposeful touch, he skillfully divested you of your robe, revealing the curves of your form beneath. His hands, warm and adept, began to massage your supple breasts, kindling soft gasps from your lips. His own trailed a wet path downward, leaving a bridge of feverish kisses along the expanse of your throat, lingering over the rapid pulse beneath your skin.

As his lips found purchase on the tender flesh of your neck, his actions became more urgent, his touch more demanding. A pinch at your pebbled nipples sent a shiver of sensation coursing through you, followed by the heat of an open-mouthed kiss.

Your gaze drifted downwards, enchanted by the sight of his tongue encircling the sensitive spots, suckling on the swollen buds like a babe. Already, heat was building within the depths of your being, igniting a flame that spread between your legs.

Sukuna laid you back, relishing the delicate flavour of your lips as his fingers skillfully sought out your throbbing clit, stimulating it with unhurried circles.

With practised ease, he slipped two fingers inside you, quickening his rhythm without preamble. Your hand instinctively traced down to his chest, undoing the fastenings of his robe.

“Take it,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. “Satisfy your lord, my love.”

Your fingers curled around his pulsating cock, the very object of desire that the other girls had passionately recounted. The knowledge of their previous intimacies with him only stoked the flames of envy within you, spurring you to intensify your ministrations.

With a surge of determination, you quickened the pace of your caresses, applying pressure with your thumb upon his sensitive tip while fondling his sacs.

Sukuna’s grin widened against your lips as he reciprocated with equal zeal, slipping a third finger into your slick heat until he was fully engulfed by your swollen core.

Together, you sailed upon the waves of raw carnal desire, locked in a lecherous race to reach your climax, each vying to be the first to cross the finish line—

Sukuna’s low, guttural moans resonated throughout the chamber.

You had achieved victory.

His essence spilled forth into your waiting hands, his cock convulsing with the intensity of his release. Moments later, you succumbed to your own climax, a soft cry escaping your lips.

With care, Sukuna withdrew his hand from your centre, and you instinctively examined your palm, noting the striking resemblance of his essence to your own.

You tentatively brought your fingers to your lips, savouring the taste of him.

“I did not instruct you to do that,” he growled, his gaze blazing as you tasted him. “But I suppose I’ll permit it.”

“It is salty,” you murmured, almost absentmindedly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you women incapable of discussing anything besides my cock?” he exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension dissipating as he cleaned his fingers with his tongue before tenderly cradling the back of your head, drawing you to sit upon his lap. Your laughter softened into chuckles, a smile playing upon your lips.

“Did I please you, my Lo—”

“Sukuna,” he interrupted firmly. “Only you may address me by my given name.”

“My L—”

“I command it.” His tone left no room for argument.

You affirmed your agreement with a nod.

He was Sukuna.

Your Sukuna.

“Very well, Sukuna.” You felt a subtle shift in the air between you. His chuckle rumbled softly. “Shall I turn around for you?”

“And why do you deem such an unnecessary act necessary?”

“Because—” You suppressed the urge to divulge the whispers of the other concubines regarding his favoured position. “Never mind. How would you prefer me to present myself to you?”

“As you are,” Sukuna answered, his grip tightening around himself. “How you managed to have me spend by your hand in under five minutes is a marvel beyond my comprehension.”

Internally, you gave yourself a congratulatory pat on the back.

“Now, my love,” he said, inclining his chin towards his erection, “will you do my cock the honour of sitting on it?”

Licking the grin of your lips, you nodded, rising to your knees. With nimble fingers, you positioned his hardened length at your entrance, gradually lowering yourself onto him.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Sukuna’s lips, his hands instinctively grasping your hips. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, enduring the initial sting of penetration. Perhaps every touch of his fingers had been a meticulous groundwork for this pinnacle moment.

As you settled into your seat upon him, you granted yourself a minute to acclimate to the sheer magnitude of him stretching and filling your tight, supple walls.

Sukuna tilted his head back, impatience evident in his eyes. “Will you begin moving at a pace befitting this century, Sad Eyes?”

“Just a moment,” you retorted, your tone tinged with irritation.

“Unfortunately, the sight of your leaking cunt is testing my patience,” he remarked, his gaze lingering provocatively on your flushed form.

Collecting yourself, you affirmed your resolve with a nod before subtly adjusting your position, and swaying your hips forward. His strong hands guided you, aiding your movements as you sought a rhythm. “Gods, you’re—you’re quite large. It’s rather discomforting.”

“Ah, where has the enthusiasm to please your lord vanished, my love?” His laughter echoes through the chamber as he leaned back, amused by your scowl. “I must confess, your defiance is perhaps your most alluring trait. It has crossed my mind more than once during moments of handling myself in the bath.”

Your brow furrowed in dismay.

It was evident that the other concubines possessed far greater expertise in pleasuring him than you ever could. All you could manage was to feign enthusiasm, your movements faltering and disjointed, as you struggled to produce even a fraction of the satisfaction they effortlessly blessed him with. His laughter, which wasn’t helping your cause, bore an uncanny resemblance to the mocking tones of the girls who had taunted you in the past.

You no longer wished to endure this charade.

You halted in your tracks, unable to muster the courage to meet his gaze, your eyes fixated instead on his throat. “It appears . . . that I may not be adequately versed in fulfilling your needs. I shall endeavour to educate myself further before making another attempt. For now, I request permission to retire for the evening, my Lord.”

Sukuna’s grip tightened as he seized your jaw, compelling you to meet his gaze. “You dare to defy my command to address me by my given name?” His smile remained wicked as he drew your face closer to his own. “Remember, my love, there is a boundary to which I tolerate your rebellion. Do not allow my affections to cloud your judgement. I remain your Lord, above all else. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you managed to gasp out.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

With a swift motion, he released your sore jaw, and before you could even consider easing the ache, his lips crashed against yours.

In that moment, control slipped from your grasp entirely. His hands gripped the flesh of your buttocks possessively, guiding your movements as he claimed you with a primal savageness that left you shaking in his embrace.

“Does it pain you, my beloved?” Sukuna growled, his fingers curling around your nape possessively. “Do you feel the strain of my cock as I breach your tender walls?”

You whimpered softly, your head nodding against the curve of his neck.

“Fear not, my darling. I will diligently train this cunt of yours to accommodate every inch of me, dusk, dawn, and twilight. Your throat, too, shall be honed to fulfil my every whim, wherever and whenever I demand.” With a swift motion, he tugged your hair, forcing you to meet his glare. “And should you dare to entertain thoughts of defiance with any other man beyond the confines of my chamber, rest assured, there will be consequences.”

“Sukuna,” was all you gasped, eyes rolling back as his tip probed the depths of your womb. His tongue traced the delicate curve of your throat before shoving into your mouth, drawing out your own to suckle on. In the heat of the moment, your hands roamed aimlessly, torn between grasping at his waist, clutching his shoulders, or caressing his cheeks.

“Oh, how I love the sight of your breasts greeting me in my face.” Sukuna tightened his hold on each of them with a deadly grasp, savouring the melodious cry that escaped your lips. He lowered his head and teethed each nipple, drawing it out and relishing in the masochism of your sharp nails clawing down his back. “Deeper, my darling. You alone hold the privilege of marking my flesh. Let my scars mirror yours.”

With caution, you shifted your hands to rest upon his firm pectoral muscles before you could accidentally claw out his spinal cord.

Sukuna’s touch drifted from your bruised breasts to cradle your face, guiding your gaze to meet his crimson one.

Encouraged by his comforting presence, you arched your hips forward with newfound confidence. His fingers swept through your hair, pushing it away as he offered reassuring nods.

Now, the reins rested firmly within your grasp.

“Fuck . . .” Leaning back against the headboard, he released soft sighs. Warm breaths escaped his parted lips as you continued increasing your ministrations. Your gaze momentarily flickered to your favourite book resting on his bedside table before returning to his face.

Suddenly seized by an impulse, you leaned forward to plant a tender kiss upon his lips, trailing upward to gently brush against his cheekbones, tracing the intricate markings lining his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Someone must play the role of the tender one between us, Sukuna,” you answered, mirroring the attention he had given your scars during your initial encounter. With each kiss, you felt his eyes tracing your movements, following the path of your lips as they journeyed across his face, landing upon his nose or the pulse of his neck.

“My beloved,” Sukuna’s voice caressed your ears, drawing your focus entirely to him, “listen closely to my words.”

You halted your movements, a curious expression dancing in your eyes. “What troubles you?”

With a deliberate motion, he guided your hips forward, his gaze unwavering. “Throughout the night, I will fill your womb ceaselessly, and in mere weeks, you shall carry my legacy within you.” Your heart leaped into your throat, fluttering with an overwhelming rush of emotion. “Peril will shadow your every step. Those who oppose us will stop at nothing to eliminate your life and the life of our child. Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation?”

You blinked back the tears, resigning yourself to the inevitable.

“But I vow upon my honour, such an atrocity shall never come to pass. I will sever entire bloodlines if even a single strand of your precious hair were harmed.” His movements quickened as he thrusted into you.

Your grip tightened on his shoulders again, gasping for breath between erratic pants.

“At dawn’s light, all concubines shall be reassigned to palace duties. You need only point out those who have dared to trouble you, though their transgressions are already known to me.” His motions became more intense as he pressed you onto your back, pinning your arms above your head. “And when the sun graces the horizon, you, my beloved, shall be proclaimed as my queen.”

Your voice wailed through the chamber as you cried out his name, drowning in the waves of scorching pleasure never before experienced.

Instead of seeing celestial bodies colliding, your gaze met the deep crimson of his irises, those same eyes that had captivated you on that very first night.

“Sukuna . . . ”

With a smile mirroring his own, you tilted your head upward, silently beckoning him to seal the moment with a kiss. As he obliged, his cock pulsed within you, filling you with his warmth until every fibre of your being was tethered with his.

But he didn’t withdraw. Just as he had promised, he intended to keep you close throughout the night, to claim you as his own.

And in that moment, as you laid with him, you welcomed the dawn of a new chapter standing beside him, prepared to reign as Sukuna Ryomen’s queen.

[aastarions]

sometimes i go through my many many wips and just

over the lost potential SLFKJD

[rninies]

✮ pampering a giant baby - gojo satoru

synopsis: gojo satoru rarely gets sick, but when he does, he acts like a child (you don't mind that because when will you ever get the chance of taking care of gojo?)

warnings: sick gojo, fluff, gn!reader, gojo is stubborn (hates being taken care of) — wc: 528

notes: IM BACK YEAHHHHHHH im almost finished with my finals so here we are :3

“y/n, please leave.” satoru blocks the door with his tall figure, leaving you unable to enter his apartment. “i’m begging you.”

you huff, standing your ground. “i am not leaving until you let me take care of you. you’re sick, toru! your body is heating up as we speak.”

“i’m fine-” satoru lets out a cough. “seriously, just go home! i can take care of myself.” as soon as he says that, he sneezes, knees feeling weak. you quickly catch him before he falls.

“‘i’m fine’ my ass. come on, let me take care of you for once.” you mumble, helping satoru inside. you gently lay him on the couch, to which he instantly rests his head on the pillows. “i’ll go make you some porridge, yeah?”

satoru nods, too weak to speak. you instantly got to work, cooking up a porridge as quietly as possible to not disturb his rest. as soon as you finished making the porridge, you brought it over to satoru, gently waking him up. “toru, wake up. you need to eat.”

satoru reluctantly opens his eyes. “can i eat later? i feel sick.”

“you have to eat now so then you can drink some medicine. after that i promise you i’ll let you sleep as much as you want.” you softly say, helping satoru sit up. “just eat a few bites and i’ll be happy.” you hold the spoon full of warm porridge in front of him and he opens his mouth, just wide enough to eat.

after a few bites, satoru mumbles about how full he feels and you stop, quickly grabbing medicine from the drawer and a cup of water. “here. drink this and you’ll feel better.” satoru drank the medicine and you smiled. “there.”

instead of laying back down on the pillow, he lays his head on your lap. “sorry.”

you tilt your head in confusion. “hm? what are you sorry for?”

“don’t know… just feels annoying being sick.” satoru mumbles, hiding his face in your shirt. “i hate feeling like this.”

“mm, i know, baby. everyone has their sick days. you know how it is.” you say, gently caressing his head. “i don’t mind taking care of you for once, though. it’s a good change. i like it.”

“i should be taking care of you, not the other way around.” satoru complains, finally meeting your eyes. “it’s like- i don’t know. it feels weird.”

“hey, don’t feel bad. i like taking care of you, don’t worry.” you leaned down and gave satoru a quick kiss on the lips, to which he immediately covered his lips. “what?”

“i’m sick! you can’t just kiss me! what if you get sick too?” satoru’s voice is muffled behind his hands. “i don’t want you to get sick too.”

you smiled. “i won’t. trust me. now you go back to sleep and you’ll feel better in the morning because my porridge has magical healing powers.”

satoru laughs and closes his eyes, quickly falling back to sleep.

(the next day, you were woken up by a scratchy throat and blocked nose — to which satoru was delighted because he can finally take care of you).

[chaepink]

can u make headcannons on sub!yan’s tendencies in the relationship?

also can i be 🉑 or 🌝 anon?

dating sub!yandere boys hcs ♡

sub!yandere boys when they date you.

wc: 1.1k+ words | masterlist

dom!fem!reader, unhealthy relationship, mention of killing/murder, both sfw and nsfw!, mention of feminization, bondage

note: yes you can be 🌝 anon!

— your yandere would be possessive of you, even more compared to when you two were just friends

— well, you thought you two were just friends. he already assumed you two were together sometime earlier during his friendship with you

— he would do anything for you in order to make sure you're happy and safe

— a friend of yours is getting too touchy with you? well the next day that friend is ignoring you and when you confront them, they look at you scared and quickly scurry away from you. did your yandere do something to them? surely not

— a weird guy keeps following you around your neighborhood? well a couple of days later you see on the news that his body has been found near a river and weirdly enough, you havent seen your yandere on the days before the guy's death

— you complain to your yandere about how a teacher gave you a bad grade on something you worked so hard on? suddenly your grade changes to a A and that same exact teacher suddenly resigns from the school

— he'll try his best to know where you are most of the time and try to follow you back home to make sure you're safe (though its really obvious, you don't acknowledge him so he thinks he's actually doing something)

— but no matter how scary and possessive they are of you, they just want to be good for you, really

— its almost as if they're a puppy for you, always there for your beck and call

— give them a simple command and they'll do it immediately, no questions asked

— ask them to buy you a snack from the nearest store? he'll return back with a bagful of others that he thought you would like

— they're super clingy and always want to be near you

— somehow they manage to have the same exact classes that you have and at the same time. maybe you guys are just lucky? little do you know that your yandere hacked into the principal's computer to change his schedule to fit with yours

— if you're sick, they would immediately fetch you some medicine and make so many bowls of your favorite soup that you're not sure you could finish them all

— they would be so sad when you're sick cause that means they can't be as close as they usually are with you :(

— in bed, nothing changes at all. rather, he becomes even more infatuated with you

— they're still so good and obedient for you, always following your commands. its cute

— like what i said with him doing it with no hesitation, your yandere is eager to do what you say

— tell him to get on his knees? say less as he's already doing so, staring up at you with such innocent eyes

— tell him to open his mouth for you to stick your fingers inside? he opens wide and sticks out his tongue in such a sinful manner, hazy eyes absolutely begging you to make him choke on your fingers as drool drips down his chin

— order him to suck your strap and get it all wet? he's quick to get in between your legs and get his hands on the fake dick, his mouth going straight to bobbing it up and down and gagging as it hits the back of his throat. he'll try to subtly grind his hard on against your foot without you noticing but you do anyways but he's being a good boy so you allow it

— and oh my god is he so shameless in public

— no hesitation in telling you what he wants you to do to him when there are people around

— you'll be at brunch with some of your friends and suddenly you'll feel a hot breath on your ear, such sinful words coming soon after

"im wearing lingerie under my clothes, your favorite set too. wouldn't you like to just ruin me right here and now? make me cry and look so pretty while you show everyone im yours?"

— safe to say that you immediately dragged him to the family bathroom and fingered him until he was gripping onto you for dear life, begging and crying out for you to stop and take pity on him (he's lying about wanting you to stop)

— when you're out with errands or just at work, he'll take such sinful pictures of himself to send to you randomly

— the pictures would include his legs spread out, a obvious bulge in his underwear, and something adorning his body whether its lingerie, a maid outfit, or rope that's tied so tightly on him

— if he's feeling like teasing you even more, he'll send whimpering audios that beg you to come home and fuck him and if you listen close enough, you'll hear some wet noises that let you know that he's masturbating

"f-fuck, [name] come back s-soon, please? i-i miss you so much! i- ah! i-im wearing your favorite outfit right now! i'll be a g-good ngh boy waiting for you ♡"

— itll end up with you rushing home after you're finished to fuck him dumb in that outfit, making it stained with his tears and cum

— he knows you can't really get him pregnant but your yandere just loves those straps with cum in them that you can just shoot inside him whenever you're fucking him fast and rough

— that'll make his eyes roll back and head throw backwards as he lets out such a loud mewl at the feeling of your fake cum filling him up

— and afterwards he'll tease you by using his fingers to push the cum thats gushing out of his hole back in before licking his fingers

— although your yandere is a good boy for you most of the time, theres times where he's a brat

— he'll talk back to you whenever you command him to do something or cum without permission

— but just some long edging or overstimulation will break him and turn him into a sobbing mess

— tying his hands to the headboard and keeping his legs spread apart whilst a vibrator is inside him on the highest setting is his favorite punishment

— your yandere thinks you don't know that since you do it all the time but you actually do know it, you just love the way his face is stained with his drool and tears while his chest and the sheets underneath him is covered in his cum afterwards

— such a slut but we love him for it

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[otteroflore]

i followed someone for snake content and they put we*ght loss content on my dash... ew... no thank you. i can deal with a lot but ultimate regret.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GETO SUGURU — you always liked taking your boyfriend dress shopping with you, maybe it’s because he always gave all of your options a fair chance.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, bf!geto, public / fitting room / mirror scenes, my questionable characterisation (it’s been a while guys please spare me!) ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hii! another lil jjk thirst for now, im gonna be working on some more genshin also + a lil nagi post cos ofc it’s me <3

“do you like this one?”

you ask as you brush down the hem of the dress around your hips, meeting the dark, sharp gaze as it’s owner breathes out a low whistle before readjusting himself to sink deeper into his seat with a whisper of a grin.

“mhm, looks real good, pretty girl.”

you don’t know how long you’ve been in this store’s fitting room, but your boyfriend geto looks comfortable as he leans back in the sofa. his thighs are spread and one of his arms thrown haphazardly along the back space behind him as he hums.

anyone else would’ve probably complained by now but he looks content with dragging his gaze along your figure, tracing along the fabric that falls across your body so perfectly that he can’t help but want to peel it back, like he’s following a map to something greater.

“look at you.” geto’s words are like honey with the soft sort of drawl his voice takes with you, accompanied by the smooth twist of his neck as he urges you to do a pretty little spin for him — one that you do so easily as you giggle.

“sugu. you’ve liked all of them.” you feign annoyance, turning back to face him as you rest one of your hands on your hip, earning you a raised brow from your boyfriend before he’s shrugging his shoulders and pushing himself to stand.

you almost roll your eyes with the way geto stretches his arms over his head, deliberately as he watches the way you struggle not to watch the way every muscle seems to twitch as he moves. you pout your lips, and that urges him to take a few long strides towards you before his hands are on your hips.

it’s intimate, gentle, the way he holds you — looking down at you with a slow hum like he’s really thinking your choices over in his head. “have i? maybe it’s the model.” he eventually answers, accompanying it with a quick peck along the exposed skin of your shoulder as he leans over you.

“we need to pick one for the party.” you try again,

“mhm.” but geto’s barely listening, much too enthralled with busying himself in the crook of your neck, suckling and pressing his lips along your collarbones — hands squeezing and kneading at your hips and waist before they trace along the hem of the dress.

he steps into you, urging you back into the fitting room you just pushed yourself out of, like it was built for two and you’d have maybe put up more of a fight if he wasn’t so intoxicating. “how am i supposed to choose.,” you feel dazed with every wet press of his lips on your skin as he speaks, low hum of his voice making the nerves under your skin sing as you press your fingertips into his biceps, trembling with need.

“i’m serious, sugu—“ your words are a mere whisper, you can barely trust your own voice before he’s turning you to face the floor length mirror infront of you both. he allows you a shakey breath before he’s back over you, chest pressed against your back as one of his hands take your chin between his fingers, urging you to make eye contact with him in your reflection this time.

“i mean, see how pretty it looks.” geto’s words are honest, unwavering despite the weight of arousal that hangs in the small room and the press of his clothed cock against your lower back. both of you are only hidden behind the flimsy curtain, there’s not a lot of space in here but it only seems to push you both closer — like you’re hoping you could melt into him entirely.

“had to see it up close for a better opinion.” he grits, jaw tensing as his fingertips swipe experimentally between your thighs — the push of his wrist pulling at the hem of the dress until your panties are just visible in the mirror.

“suguru..” you try, gasp with the way your legs suddenly feel unsteady, readjusting yourself against geto’s chest despite the way you know he’s got you anyway. you can feel his hair trace along your skin as he curls over you, leaning over your shoulder to smear a kiss across your cheek before he’s meeting your gaze infront of you again, urging you to step your legs apart ever so slightly with his fingers.

“hm? i’m just making sure my girl will be comfortable for the party.”

it catches you off guard the way you feel his clothed cock push up against your panties, expertly until you’re so comfortable in him you could melt — letting his strong hold steady you as his free palm squeezes at your tits through the neck of your dress.

you swear you can feel geto throb against you, despite the layers separating you both — you can still feel the outline of his blunt tip, deliberately pushing into your swollen clit as he breathes deep into your skin. you rock into him, like there’s not a whole store of people through the thin curtain separating you both, like you’re the only people in the whole mall before you feel the vibration of his tone drip through you once more, but his sharp eyes remain on yours in the mirror.

“think you’ll have to try them all on again after this.. so they all have a fair chance, pretty girl.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[fairyhaos]

❖ no such thing as too perfect // jeon wonwoo

wonwoo x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: office au, established relationship, fluff, kinda crack, junhui is the best work bestieTM ever, yn is Dramatic and In Love

warnings: none

notes: this was only meant to be like, 1.2k.... idk what happened but im not apologising. also there are a couple of pov switches which i hope make sense!!

“I think I need to break up with him,” you say, and Junhui blinks around a mouthful of salad. 

“Who?” he asks, spraying pieces of feta cheese all over the table, and you wrinkle your nose and brush away a few bits that get too close to you and your bento box. He frowns, and then his eyes widen. “Oh my god, you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo? Why do you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo?”

You wince as Junhui's loud exclamation rings throughout the office canteen, making several heads turn to look at the two of you. 

“Don't yell it so loud—and why are you saying his name in italics?”

“Because this is Jeon Wonwoo,” Junhui emphasises again, shoving salad passionately into his mouth before carrying on talking. “He's the only one of your boyfriends that I've actually ever approved of. Which is crazy, because Soonyoung introduced him to you, and I've never pinned Soonyoung as a guy that knows boyfriend-material guys.”

You reach over and lower Junhui’s fork, preventing him from eating and talking at the same time. “I don't know,” you sigh. “I just… I don't think this is going to work.”

“What did he do?” Junhui asks. His face morphs into a more serious look. “Do I need to murder him for you?”

“No, I— no! Don't murder him!” you say quickly, shaking your head. “He hasn't done anything wrong. It's just. I think I need to break up with him.”

The grave look melts from Junhui's face, and then he frowns. “You need to break up with him… even though he hasn't done anything wrong?”

“Yes.”

Junhui stares at you, mystified, then snatches back his fork to keep eating his salad. “Okay, so you've gone insane. Nice to know.”

You sigh at Junhui's response, rubbing your temples. 

Whilst it does sound insane for you to break up with Wonwoo even though he's done nothing wrong, in your eyes, it's actually quite understandable. 

Nothing has gone wrong, per se: you've been dating Wonwoo for about ten months now, and everything has been perfect. He's been perfect. 

Maybe… a little too perfect. 

He's always being so gentle and courteous, silently reading your emotions and knowing exactly how you're feeling at any given moment. He knows what you need before you even know that you need it—giving you little cheek kisses to remind you that you're loved, pushing a chocolate bar into your hand when you're all dizzy and tired, hugging you to sleep when you've had a bad day. 

The bento box that you're opening and having for lunch? That was prepared by him too. 

Jeon Wonwoo is just so goddamn perfect, and it worries you. 

“I don't think I'm good enough for him,” you admit whilst Junhui is busily sipping his water. 

It's fascinating how he manages to eat so frantically whilst eating so slowly at the same time, you think idly, as Junhui chokes on the tiny sip he was taking. He sets down the glass, wiping his mouth and blinking at you. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Come on, Junhui, do I really have to say it again?” you complain, beginning to open your bento box. “You heard me.”

“Yeah, and I couldn't believe my ears,” he says, tilting his head sideways. “You? Not good enough for him? Please. That's crazy.”

You make a questioning noise. “You just said that he's the only boyfriend of mine that you approved of.”

“Exactly.” Junhui stabbed his fork in your direction, before going back to shovelling leaves into his mouth. “You're perfect for him, and he's perfect for you. I predicted it from the moment you met.”

“I don't know about me being perfect for him, but he really is just too perfect for me,” you whine. “Him and his stupidly warm eyes and that smile… oh, Junhui, he makes me feel like the most beautiful person in this entire universe.” You look down at your bento box, pouting. “Wonwoo's just so perfect.”

Junhui makes a face. “Gross, but okay. I still don't see your point, though. Wonwoo's perfect, and you're both good enough for each other. I don't see why you think you need to break up with him.”

Still looking down at the bento box, you let out a sigh. All of the food is neatly packed away into the separate compartments, and he's even arranged the sesame seeds on your rice into a little heart. It's an awfully goofy but also an awfully Wonwoo thing to do, and you can feel your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, the longer you stare at it. 

This is not good. You are far too in love with Wonwoo. 

That's what you tell Junhui, and he stares at you with utter disbelief as if you've finally admitted that you really have lost your mind. 

“And what makes you think that he's not far too in love with you?” Junhui asks. “You know, one of the reasons that I approve of Wonwoo is because he's just so so in love with you. Like, almost disgustingly in love with you.”

“What?” You blink at him, before shaking your head. “Junhui, no, this is serious. Wonwoo's just so perfect and I'm so in love with him and—and it's actually getting dangerous now. I've literally fallen in love with him.”

Junhui stares at you for a long moment, wondering whether you're actually being serious about all of this. 

“That's not a bad thing,” he insists, and then chomps on his salad in frustration. “Y/N, that's not a bad thing at all.”

“Yes it is,” you say, despairingly, looking forlorn as you prop your chin on your hand. “I love him too much. It's gonna—it's gonna get too overwhelming, soon, and then he'll start thinking I'm weird, and he'll distance himself from me, and then we'll break up and I should end this before that happens.”

Junhui shakes his head. “I don't think that's true.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn't. He won't break up with you.”

“Not yet.”

Junhui looks away exasperatedly, because you're adamant in wallowing in your despair over having to break up with Wonwoo because “he's too perfect” even while quite happily eating the lunch that Junhui knows Wonwoo probably prepared for you. 

It's insane, he thinks, because it's obvious to him that Wonwoo loves you a lot. But he knows you and your negative thinking, and short of Wonwoo walking in here and professing his love to you all by himself, Junhui can't think of anything that could possibly convince you otherwise. 

As he looks past your shoulder to the glass doors of the office canteen, however, he blinks. 

There's a tall man entering the canteen, his dark hair all fluffy and his glasses-rimmed eyes scanning the area, lips pursed into a look that could almost be described as bored. He has his hands in his coat pockets, wearing the most simple casual fit ever, but he exudes such cold model energy that even Junhui blinks again. 

And then he watches as the man catches sight of you and Junhui, and his entire demeanour just softens. 

Junhui bites back a grin. 

Wow. Maybe he’s, like, actually psychic. 

“Wonwoo's here,” he says abruptly, and your head snaps up so fast that he can hear the audible click that sounds in your neck. 

“Where?” 

Junhui doesn't get to say anything, however, because he sees the moment that your eyes clock the tall man that's striding into the canteen, the light catching the frames of his glasses, and watches as you positively melt, in much the same way that the man had done when he saw you. 

He can almost hear every infatuated thought that runs through your mind. 

“Wonwoo,” you breathe, once Wonwoo steps close enough to the table that you and Junhui are eating at. His hair is all fluffy and windswept, and you resist the urge to smooth it down with your fingers. 

“Hello.” Wonwoo bends down, presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You weren't answering your phone.”

“Hm? I didn't get any text notifs from you.” You check your phone, trying to turn it on, only for the screen to remain black. “Oh. Is it dead?”

“I suspected as much,” Wonwoo says dryly, but there's a fondness in his voice as he pulls out a power bank from his pocket. “Here.”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you're a life saver!” You look up at Wonwoo, smiling at the way his eyes look so warm as he gazes down at you. “Thank you.”

Junhui slurps his water loudly. 

“Sorry,” he says, sounding not sorry at all when the two of you look over at him. “Don't mind me.”

He's grinning mischievously, for reasons that you cannot fathom, and when he leans forward to peer up at Wonwoo with curious eyes, the mischief in his grin only increases. 

“So, Wonwoo, why are you here?”

Wonwoo tilts his head, pushing his glasses up at the same time. “You're Junhui.”

“The one and only,” Junhui says brightly. “I'm Y/N's work bestie. I've heard loads about you.”

You hiss in annoyance, kicking Junhui under the table even as Wonwoo laughs amusedly, placing a hand on your shoulder affectionately. 

“Wen Junhui! Why would you say that?”

“Do you talk about me that often?” Wonwoo asks, and his tone is somewhere between genuinely curious and adoring and you kind of just wanna sit there and listen to his voice forever. 

“Oh, all the time,” Junhui says, eyes gleaming, and you snap your gaze back to him, exasperated. “Y/N loves you so much. I hear about the extent of it every day.”

Wonwoo looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

You kind of want to deny it, but then that would mean lying to Wonwoo, so you don't. 

“Maybe?” you say weakly, cheeks burning as you smile sheepishly up at him. “You're just, uh. Really really lovely. And, um, I kind of love you. A lot.”

Wonwoo laughs, a full and endeared laugh, twinkling with the light of a thousand suns. “I'm glad. Because you're really lovely, and I love you a lot too.”

Your eyes widen, and suddenly it's like it's just you and Wonwoo in the canteen now, him with his hand on your shoulder and those eyes, holding your very soul in place as he just smiles so lovingly and oh God you really do love him. 

“Oh,” you say, soft. “Wonwoo…”

Wonwoo just smiles again. “Anyways, I came by to let you know that I'll be finishing work a bit earlier today, so call me when you're done and I'll drive by to pick you up, okay?”

You nod, mute, stunned by the gentlest words of “I love you” that had left Wonwoo's mouth just seconds before. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Junhui chirps, but Wonwoo doesn't seem to hear, because he's looking down at you again, before swooping in and placing the lightest kiss on your nose and you feel like you could combust on the spot right there. 

“I'll see you later?” he says. 

You nod. “I'll see you later.”

Wonwoo smiles, and then the hand slides off your shoulder and he walks away. 

You watch him go, watch him walk through the tables and then get to the glass doors, where he turns around one last time to wave goodbye before disappearing outside, and really, it's insane how much you love him. 

And how much he loves you, it seems. 

“So. He took time out of his own lunch break and came all the way here to give you a charger because he knew that you'd forgotten one and to tell you that he's picking you up later?” Junhui says, making you reluctantly turn back to him. “Y/N. If this doesn’t make you see just how in love with you Wonwoo is, then I’m gonna kick you.”

“Hey, no need for violence,” you say, raising an eyebrow, and Junhui pulls a face. 

“So do you see it or do you not?”

You look over your shoulder again, out at the doors. Wonwoo’s no longer there, but you can still imagine the imprint of his warmth, lingering like the softest lavender scent over the entire area. 

“Maybe I do,” you say, all wistful and dazed, a smile on your face. “Isn’t he just so perfect?”

Junhui grins, and makes use of your distracted state to steal a carrot stick from your lunch, crunching on it loudly.

“Perfect and in love with you,” he points out. “So do you still feel like you need to break up with him?”

“Hm?”

You blink, eyes still all starry from your few minutes of interacting with your boyfriend, his soft smile etched into your mind. It takes a moment for Junhui's words to register, but then they do, and you can't help but laugh. 

“Oh. Oh, no. He and I are perfect.”

Junhui grins. He really is a psychic. 

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect

[lewisvinga]

me n my dumbasses | charles leclerc x fem! driver! reader x pierre gasly

summary; just f1’s fave ‘childhood besties to lovers’ throuple being iconic

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; cursing i think

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; requested !

masterlist !

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liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and others !

yourusername: average day w the most stupid people in all of france ( and monaco ) (( i unfortunately have dealt with them my whole life and i also unfortunately love them ))

tagged; pierregasly, charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: but pierre was first in ur last photo dump ☹️

pierregasly: mate you almost killed us …😀

charles_leclerc: NOT MY FAULT YOU’RE BOTH GOOD LOOKING?? also did you just mate zone me?

yourusername: think abt ur actions of almost killing ur bf and gf , charles leclerc.

charles_leclerc: yes ma’am🫡

username: CHAPIEY/N DUMPPP

username: leave it up to y/n to post the most bf pics of them 😫

username: i’d kill to have dealt w them my whole life miss y/n UR LUCKYY😖

username: charles is so real for almost crashing his ferrari bc y/n and pierre looked toooo good 😭

yourusername: yeah well now he’s in the timeout corner ://

charles_leclerc: this is NOT fun

pierregasly: #deserved

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; #inspectingpierresform🤓] [caption 2; complaining that i’m taking pics instead of working out 🙄🙄 #tattletale] [caption 3; wauw hot boys]

landonorris gross

landonorris dumbasses

yourusername hey 😾

yourusername they’re MY dumbasses 😪

pierregasly “pleaseee can i work out with you guys 🥺🥺”

yourusername i didn’t want to break a nail🙁🙁

pierregasly you’re so high maintenance

yourusername u have known me since 2011 WHY are u shocked

yourusername u both made me like this btw

pierregasly and we don’t regret it a bit, cherie 😁

charles_leclerc i see u liked our selfie from when u went to the bathroom to put makeup on before filming tiktoks😁

yourusername wanted to look cute for the camera and for my dumbasses can u blame a girl😖

charles_leclerc DUMBASSES?? i’m smart , pierre maybe but not me !

yourusername oh babe

yourusername u both are ! but it’s ok i love u both💓

charles_leclerc yeah yeah we love u too

username LMAOOOO THEYRE SO😭

username pierre’s ‘mom i threw up’ stance 💀

username never stop these queen

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liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and others !

yourusername: just me n my dumbasses against the world ❤️‍🩹

tagged; charles_leclerc, pierregasly

charles_leclerc: love u too dumbass xx

yourusername: u see i get why I called u a dumbass but why are u calling me a dumbass? do u hate me??☹️☹️

charles_leclerc: cherie no wait pls

pierregasly: im surprised you still fall for her lame sarcasm even if we’ve been dealing w her since 2011🙄

yourusername: hey RUDE ur the ones who wanted ME first 😾😾

yourusername: sorry for worrying u pooks love u xx charles_leclerc

pierregasly: love u dumbass 😪😪

yourusername: ur more of a dumbass than me

carlossainz55: can we confirm that charles is the biggest one out of you three ??

pierregasly: oh 100%😂

charles_leclerc: THATS NOT EVEN FAIR??😀

georgerussell63: idk man, i’ve received 394829 messages from y/n about being scared you’re going to burn the house down from making toast…😬😬

username: i love how they never had a honey moon phase it’s just straight bullying w a side of love 😭😭😭

username: childhood besties to lover core fr

username: THEHRE NEVER SERIOUS IM IN TEARSSSSSS

username: the pure unseriousness from chapiey/n is why i adore them sm😭😂

username: reason 92893 i adore them;

username: when the trio suddenly becomes romantic

username: u guys ever think y/n’s like ‘kissing my homies’ 🤔🤔

charles_leclerc: yes actually …..

yourusername: me n my homies doing romantic stuffs 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

username: just clocked in y/n dealt w their awkward phases

yourusername: ‘twas hell

pierregasly: like teenage u was any better 🙄

username: ‘my dumbasses’ i love them😖