#and the thing about both these characters is that they're both so fucking YOUNG.

[joannerowling]

Take a look at this baby, it has EVERYTHING.

riddle was told to go home to his orphanage in london during what would have very much been the blitz? whatever.

"Harry Potter is bad because some arbitrary elements of real life i've got a personal interest in aren't part of the plot. Why aren't the books 1000 pages longer? I really wanted to read more of Harry Potter's really bad, terrible writing."

the weasley's are so strapped for cash that they're sending their son to school with a potentially dangerous broken wand? of course they're spending their lottery winnings on visiting their adult son in egypt

(CONTEXT : The Weasleys actually "win the lottery" the year after their son Ron broke his wand, and the win explicitly allows his family to buy him a new wand. So OP here is definitely talking out of their arse. Also,)

"JKR is a terrible writer because occasionally her characters aren't all good and make mistakes or bad decisions. Unlike real life, where people are always good and never make mistakes or bad decisions."

snape grew up in what was likely a dying northern industrial town with abusive/neglectful parents, largely cut off from the magical world? almost impressed you caught on to that, with how little it's expanded on.

"JKR's writing sucks because she can quickly and efficiently paint a picture for her young readers to understand a social context and develop empathy for her characters. Some would call her ability to do that in so little words impressive… Wait, what was i saying? Oh yeah, bad writing. Because reasons."

yes hermione has a supposedly good relationship with both her parents, no we're not going to show you it at all, yes she's going to wipe they're memories like it's nothing.

See first paragraph. (Also, CONTEXT : Hermione is very much distraught at having to - temporarily - wipe her parents's memories "for their own good". Hermione's willingness to do questionable but necessary things to protect people and win against the bad guys is built up throughout the series and is an established character trait at this point. Again, one wonders if OP has actually read the books.)

lily evans is the moral compass of james and basically the most important person in the series but fuck you if you want to actually know anything about her lmao

"I can't see the point of not knowing more about the main character's long dead mum that he never got to know. The tragedy of this fully escapes me. From a literary perspective i don't get the point of being put in the protagonist's shoes. As the reader i should be told everything, and never ever made to use my imagination and empathy."

thinking again about jk rowling being a bad writer. like, we all know about the massive flaws in her worldbuilding and i hope by now it's clear she's a bigot on basically every front. (hello, regular reminder that she doesn't even actually like women.) but like. she's especially good at dropping bits of lore and then those not being relevant in the fucking slightest. riddle was told to go home to his orphanage in london during what would have very much been the blitz? whatever. the weasley's are so strapped for cash that they're sending their son to school with a potentially dangerous broken wand? of course they're spending their lottery winnings on visiting their adult son in egypt, what else would they do. snape grew up in what was likely a dying northern industrial town with abusive/neglectful parents, largely cut off from the magical world? almost impressed you caught on to that, with how little it's expanded on. yes hermione has a supposedly good relationship with both her parents, no we're not going to show you it at all, yes she's going to wipe they're memories like it's nothing. lily evans is the moral compass of james and basically the most important person in the series but fuck you if you want to actually know anything about her lmao. even what little we see is wildly inconsistent.

[unsurebazookacore]

hot take, mike and el arent in love, because they are fourteen

well i guess mike is fifteen but still like as someone who has been fourteen/fifteen

GUESS WHO I WAS NOT DATING:

A. THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

B. MY FUTURE SIGNIFICANT OTHER

C. ANYONE WHO I WOULD BE ABLE TO SAY "I LOVE YOU" TO AND ACTUALLY FUCKING MEAN IT

D. ALL OF THE ABOVE (the answer is D by the way)

LIKE Y'ALL THEY ARE FOURTEEN

THEY MET WHEN THEY WERE TWELVE

"I knew right then and there in that moment that I loved you" MY ASS

[strangersynth]

bc you have things to say doesn't always mean you needa say them let alone it also doesn't always mean it's your place to say them kwim

[deerabigailhobbs]

Abigail is not 100% innocent. Even I will admit to that. But to say these things are mental and is reducing her character to just her father's daughter, which you're not meant to do.

First of all, we have no idea how long Garret Jacobs was abusing her or showing a fascination for murder. However it's clear that for however long, it clearly affected her. You'd think from these comments that she showed no emotions for her victims but she does. And it's very clear that she does.

She's scared and nervous when approaching Elise, knowing what will happen to her if she doesn't. Her dreaming that Elise was a deer was not because she didn't care. In fact it's the complete opposite. We see how shaken she is after killing the animal and then talks to her dad about how they're "as smart as a four year old", " they tread lightly because they don't want to hurt the plants." Here she is, with her murderous father, begging for him to understand that this animal had a soul, had feelings and a family, much like the girls do, and all he can say is "we won't waste any part of her."

And the comments about her age really annoy me. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and say they're probably young teens, but you don't magically turn responsible and mature once you hit 18. She's dealing with a lifetime of psychological abuse, years of keeping insane secrets from everyone in her life. Now both her mother and father are dead. A man who she was terrified of, but still loved because she knew no different than him. And now she's the only person to keep those secrets. So god forbid she cries every now and then because there is not one singular person in the world she can fully trust.

Furthermore, she's manipulative because she has to be. Everyone is out to get her in some shape or form so she has to put a guard around herself. And the moment she does allow herself to be vulnerable, to put her trust in someone, he fucking kills her! "You fell for the trap too babes." No, you just can't realise that she's doing it out of necessity, not because she wants too. You fell for the way the media likely portrayed her, a willing accomplice to her father's crimes, and not some extremely fucked up kid who was taught that pain and murder is a sign of affection.

And don't even get me started on "I just felt bad for Will" because he's literally worse than her. At least she's explicitly shown to have never enjoyed murdering people. Hypocrites.

GET A W A Y FROM HER. GET. AWAY.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I am massively busy with work and finalizing my Big Bang, but this idea just won't leave...

Steve and Eddie are both actors. They're in their mid thirties, well established, but they never starred together in anything. Steve tends to be cast in the same type, the dumb but pretty love interest, Eddie has lots of indie and disturbing movies under his belt. But this time, they both landed something big.

They get cast in the new Batman movie.

Steve is, of course, Batman. He insists on doing his own stunts. He refuses to get dehydrated for his shirtless scenes because he knows how damaging it is to both young men and women alike, he's not going to contribute to shitty expectations. The director (Dustin, duh!) sees something in him other directors never have - a potential for depth, for internal turmoil. He gives Steve the chance to prove himself as an actor and Steve pounces on it.

He's still very hot.

Eddie is cast as the Joker. He is a fan of the comics and scoffs at how absurd and deranged the character is becoming. He gets hired because he immediately says he doesn't think the character needs to rely on cheap tricks and shock value to be terrifying. Cutting off his face? Not cool. He suggests to play the Joker according to one of the older comics he has - one where the Joker is actually absolutely sane, but hides it to never be held accountable for his actions. The only person who ever saw through his ruse was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Joker took care of that issue very quickly.

The chemistry between Steve and Eddie on screen is insane. They go toe to toe, it's impossible to look away when they interact. Eddie utilizes his bright smile to the maximum, tweaking it just right within moments so it becomes unsettling. The first time he laughs, Steve gets goosebumps.

Steve encompasses Bruce's loneliness so well Eddie's heart breaks for him. Dustin finds him in the trailer, giving himself gentle slaps over the face and muttering "you're evil, damn it, you don't want to comfort the Bat!!".

Batgirl (Robin) and Harley Quinn (Chrissy) find their slow descent into love hilarious. They all become good friends on the set.

Hopper, an acting veteran who plays Commissioner Gordon, grasps Steve's shoulder after an intense fight scene and mutters: "Good job, Steve, but maybe don't stare at his lips so much?"

Robin doesn't give him the same courtesy and once Dustin yells "Cut!", she screeches: "NOW KISS!"

The movie is a hit. People love the cast and the story, some of the OG fans complain as they always do, but the ratings are great, there are many interviews, panels, all of that.

And of course, there's gossip about Steve and Eddie being a thing, which enrages the macho Batman fanbase. Their Batman isn't gay!

But the rumors quickly disappear after an award ceremony where Eddie is nominated for the best supporting actor. He wins, of course. And as he gets up to accept the small statue and deliver a speech with enough "fuck"s to give the censor a headache, he drags Steve up and kisses him in front of the whole world.

A week later, Steve and Eddie are together in front of a camera again, answering questions in an interview.

The host asks: "What do you say to those fans that are disappointed, who say that their Batman isn't gay?"

Steve just snorts, pulls Eddie closer and answers: "They're right. Their Batman isn't gay. But he's definitely bi."

Also the comic story I'm mentioning exits and is short but fantastic. 10/10 recommend.

Oh also. The first spark happens when Steve sees Eddie's hair and blurts out: "Please tell me they're not making you cut it shorter. It's too gorgeous for that."

Also because people were asking about the comics - it's Batman Black and White - Case Study and it can be found on Tumblr HERE

[xf-cases-solved]

guys, alex krycek is the Most Character of All Time

he's a bright young fbi agent. just kidding, he's secretly working for the shadow government syndicate. the syndicate hates him. so does everyone else. he killed mulder's father. he's a great assassin. he and his accomplice killed scully's sister on accident. he's a terrible assassin. he survived a car bombing. the bomb was put in the car to kill him specifically bc he's so bad at his job. he cannot have a single interaction with mulder that is not intensely homoerotic. mulder once beat the shit out of him in a chinese airport and then the wife of a french diver gave him the black oil virus in the bathroom. like that's not even a euphemism for anything, that's literally what happens. he's working for the syndicate again. he purges the black oil violently from his face and then gets abandoned behind a door underground. he is no longer working for the syndicate. he once beat the shit out of skinner in a stairwell. in retaliation, skinner later shirtlessly beats the shit out of him and handcuffs him to his balcony where he almost dies. it is just as homoerotic as it sounds. his parents were cold war immigrants and he's fluent in russian. we only learn this right before mulder is going to abandon him handcuffed to a car to go to russia. he and mulder go to russia. bad things are happening, but they're in it together. just kidding, krycek is working for the russian government. just kidding, now he is being held prone on the ground while people saw his left arm off. now he has a prosthetic arm. he's working for the russian government. he and marita are enemies. he and marita are fucking. it's probable that krycek doesn't know how to have relationships that aren't both erotic and filled with hate. he's on mulder's team now, he even kissed him about it. just kidding, he's working for the syndicate again. he has a remote that controls nanobots(???) inside skinner's body, allowing him to harm and/or kill him at will. it is just as homoerotic as it sounds. it's all going to hell and the only person he's going to save is himself. he helps get nearly the entire syndicate slaughtered. he throws cigarette smoking man down a flight of stairs to his death. he's a great assassin. he can save mulder's life. he's not going to save mulder's life. scully's child cannot be born. he will help them get her somewhere safe so the child can be born. he's going to take mulder's life. skinner takes his life instead. now he's a ghost. his ghost is on mulder's side. the cigarette smoking man outlives him. he's a terrible assassin

[yung-notorious]

I LOVE THE KINKS, B*TCH, PANTIES TO THE SIDE, BAE! I GOTTA SNEAK 'CAUSE YOUR B*TCHES DO NOT LIKE ME!— ♡

— your roommates are gone for the next couple of hours, and you're in the mood for some company...served with a side of tongue of course. you ain't asking for too much. — feat. satoru gojo

+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x college!gojo, excerpt from never lose me chapter 7, porn with plot, situationship, late-night sneaky links, pillow talk, risky unprotected sex, dirty talk & body worship, light spit & cum play, squirting, missionary & backshots, fingering & p*ssy eating, cunnilingus, voice kink, breeding kink, exhibition kink, almost creampie, gojo’s character may be questionable but his stroke game is A1. notes. word count 6k, apart of a larger body of work but can stand alone as a one-shot. you can read the full chapter here: A03 & master post. title: baby keem - pink panties

There’s just something about getting those “I’m outside” texts that makes your heart race and your tummy tingle just enough to have you rushing downstairs with some pep in your step. You thought answering the door wearing tight little Nike Pro shorts would shake him up, but seeing him walk up the front porch steps wearing something as simple as a black slim fit tee is doing you in way worse. 

Wherever he just came from looking this fine, he couldn’t have been up to any good, but fuck it— y’all can get into that later. All that matters now is that he’s here and you’re minutes away from riding him like the little red polo player on his shirt. 

“You took forever~” You say playfully, arms slinging around his neck as he pulls you into a tight hug, his hands coming down to gently hold you at the waist. Maybe you’re too down bad to think straight, but at this moment you truly believe nothing will ever come close to the affect his sweet touches have on you and when he holds you closer, it’s almost like melting into his arms. 

“I got here in an hour like I said.” He lets you go with a kiss to your cheek, then you’re taking his hand into yours just like before, leading him up the steps to the second floor your apartment unit is on. 

“Come on, come on!” His hands come to lift your butt as you climb the stairs in an attempt to push you up the steps further. 

“Stop, before I trip!” You snap, but it comes out as more of a hushed whisper, trying to keep your voice down out of respect for your neighbors. 

“You’re not gonna trip, come on you’re moving too slow!” He says, giving your butt a few playful taps that have a bit of impact behind them that have you giggling and picking up your pace. He should have just carried you up the stairs if he wanted to get you in the bed faster.

“Where’d you park?” You ask, unlocking your door, making room for the both of you to step inside. 

“Like around the corner, there weren't any spots why?” 

“No reason.” You say all cherry to keep things low-key. You might have failed to mention to him that having him here tonight is a bit problematic. You know for a fact the girls will throw a fit if they found out you skipped dinner to sneak him in.

“I’ll take your shoes— put them in my room.” You pick them up; they're New Balances, and you don’t even want to try to guess what size they are. You don’t know when the girls will be back, so you’ll have to hide them with you. 

Following you down the hall to your room, you lock the door behind you. You’re doing it right this time by having the vibes set before he came through. The lighting is dim and you have your oil diffuser going with music playing off your TV. Unsure of what to throw on you chose the first ‘Calm Night’ playlist that came up on Youtube. Young Nudy’s ‘Passion Fruit’ is playing low…which is a choice…but the beat is hot enough for you to freak too so it’ll do.

“Where’s your roommates?” He sits at the edge of your bed, pulling you in by the waist to stand between his legs, your hands coming down to rest on his shoulders as you look down on him. 

“Out eating— Ow stop! I’m ticklish.” His hands come up to rub circles around your lower abdomen.

“Where at, how come you ain’t go?” He lifts you up to take you in his lap, shifting up your bed as he does so, laying back on your pillows— your stuffed animals already tossed to a corner of your room.

“At some Italian place down the street, and because I was tired. Didn’t feel like going out tonight. I already told you this.” You shift to sit more comfortably. “And why are your pants still on?” You move to tug at the waistband of his sweats but he stops you before you can do so, collecting your hands in his then letting them go. 

“Uh-uh, just wait. I wanna talk to you first— I missed you. How your day been, what you been up to?”

“Mmm…I slept most of the day. I was doing homework with my friend when you texted me—” You slide down his body to rest your head on his chest, and he shifts with you, wrapping you in his arms. You’re close enough to hear his heartbeat, his chin resting gently on your head as he holds you.

“You were on campus?”

“No, we did it together over Facetime. She lives in your dorm actually, that’s who I was with yesterday.”

“Do I know her, what’s her name?”

“You don’t know her— and I’m not giving you her name!" You laugh.

“Why? You tryna have spies on me?”

“Yeah, can’t have you know who I got spying on you— Ow! Stop it!” You yelp, feeling him playfully pinch at your side. It doesn’t actually hurt, but it catches you off guard since you’re ticklish there.

“What do you need spies for? You think I’m sneaky?”

“Anyways!” You draw out, dodging the question in an effort to keep the peace.

“After that, I helped Utahime and Shoko get ready for this girl we’re friend’s with birthday dinner.”

“Oh so you ain’t get invited? That’s why you stayed in?” 

“Tsch, No! I stayed back because I found out at the last minute that it was tonight. By that time I didn’t feel like getting dressed to go.”

“You probably should have gone, she invited you because she wants you to be there.”

“I mean yeah— but she’s more Utahime’s friend, not mine. She’ll be alright.”

“I don’t know…” He chuckles, “You know how girls get when it comes to their birthdays. She might stop fucking with you and never talk to you again.”

“Tsch, oh my god it’s not that deep.” You roll your eyes at the dramatics. That girl will be okay!

“Utahime and I got into a whole argument about it too. She tried to call me selfish. You think that’s selfish?” You lift your head to look at him, seeking his opinion. “All because I didn’t wanna go to dinner?”

“Wasn’t just a dinner, it was a birthday dinner. And that isn’t selfish— if you didn’t want to go then you didn’t want to go. Don’t stress about it anymore, it's over with. You can’t do anything about it now.” 

“It’s not always good to be everywhere all the time. I’ll come out once in a blue but I’m inside a lot, my friends know me for that but it’s all cool.” He adds on. 

Aww, see, this is why you like him! If a man can’t take your side even when you’re slightly in the wrong then y’all shouldn’t be fucking! 

“They know I’m here?” He asks, his tone sounding as if he’s caught on to the reason behind your actions back at the front door when he had first walked in. 

“Maybe…” You admit, halfheartedly already caught in your lil scheme.

“No way you got me in here after getting into a fight with your roommates. Let me leave now before they get back, you’re setting me up.”  He laughs and starts to lift you off him to make his exit, but you use your weight to try and keep him down.

“Aht! No! Lay down!” 

“I’m playing, I’m playing.” He lets you go, arms tightening back around you smoothening you into his chest then letting you go.

“And we didn’t fight, we just exchanged a couple cuss words. We’re all good.” You shift onto your side, settling into his embrace with his right hand resting on your shoulder. 

“Uh-oh, I know how your mouth gets, I even get a little scared of you when you’re mad.” 

“Shut up—”

“Auhp! See, there it goes.” He laughs, cutting you off. 

“I swear I’m a nice girl, y’all just make me mad sometimes. Pushing my buttons.”

“Who’s y’all? I already know you’re an angel, you don’t have to keep proving it to me.” 

“So what were you doing that took so long, said you were with your friends?” You ask, trying to take the subject off of you. 

“Uhhh— we got together in one of my mans dorm. Had a conversation,  all of us were just chilling.”

“And that took you an hour?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“They talk a lot.” He says with a snarky laugh.

“Saying what?” You push further. Y’all fuck for real now so you want to know all the tea— where he’s going, coming from, and who he’s been with. It ain’t controlling either, it’s overseeing. 

“Nothing too serious– just a lot of weird shit going on. Nothing for you to worry about though...kid shit.”

“And you had to put on cologne for that?” You question, nipping playfully at his shirt. You’re not entirely buying his story, and you’re also not trying to accuse him of lying, but you can tell he’s leaving out details that are probably going to catch him up on whatever’s actually going on. It’s cool though, you’re going to find out eventually. Trust.

“Baby this a fresh polo tee, came right out of the pack today. I ain’t put on cologne.” He says smoothly. 

“So you just always smell this good, naturally?” You continue teasing. It’s a silly question, but you’re not backing down from this little debate— or whatever it is.

“Yeah, probably? But I also wash up.” He says with a tone that makes it sound like the most obvious thing in the world, and it has you cracking up.

“And when are you gonna repost my story? It only has a few hours left, I’m tryna get more views on it.” He says bringing you closer, turning the topic back on to you.

“What yo!?” You suck your teeth. Out of all the things to talk about, he’s bringing that shit up, and now. Stopping to take in the sound of what’s playing in the background, you see that it’s Tinashe’s newer track ‘Uh-Huh’. You should have picked the music yourself tonight, because you surely would have liked getting crushed to her album ‘Nightride’. 

“What, you ain’t fuck with my post?” He teases.

“You know I ain’t like it, stop playing— and what do you know about some Nardo Wick!?” 

“You were turning up to Sexyy Red at the bar, I had a feeling you’d know that song.”

“Mhm…sure.”

“You still want me to delete it?”

“It’s the end of the day, you might as well leave it up. Don’t know why you thought it was cute to embarrass me like that...” You’re over it, seriously you are. But that doesn’t mean you can’t continue pressing him about it. 

“I ain’t embarrass you. You started it, I ended it for you. Told you I was going to get your goofy ass back.” He pokes your cheek and you swat back at his finger.

“Look—” He shifts to pull his phone out of his pants pocket. Like India at Durk, you’re looking all at his phone screen as he opens up Instagram. “You got all these likes and heart eyes. I got a bunch of DMs from people I know saying I’m capping and that I ain’t pull you.” He taps on his story to show you the reactions on the post you’re tagged in, then scrolling through his DMs quickly. “Look at this one, this my bro from back home. He’s laughing at me, saying you ain’t my girl.”

“See, he can even tell you’re a fan.”

“Fuck them, I don’t care. I’m your biggest fan, and I’m back in your bed. Now what?” He locks his phone and sets it face down on your nightstand— the tell-tale sign of a sneaky hoe.

“Tsch— ughh!” You roll your eyes at the irony of his words though you walked right into that one.

“When are you gonna stop playing hard to get?”

“How am I playing hard to get?” You tease, firing back with the same playfulness he uses on you.

“Oh, so I got you then?” 

“I ain’t say that.” You say smart with a little bit of sass mixed in.

“Damn, so you're still treating me like a hoe? You just called me here for some dick and to rub on your booty, didn’t you?” His hand comes down to squeeze your butt, making you smile. 

“Aww see, you know me so well!” You say sarcastically. 

“Uh-uh, I’m tryna get to know you more.” He says, shifting to hover over you. He plants his hands on either side of your head to support himself, looking down at you. “What you do on the weekends, what you’re into, what makes you laugh, smile. I wanna know all that.” You can feel the heat that’s long started to burn in your stomach rise to your cheeks.

“Mmmm, see there you go again blushing. Don’t try to hide it.”

“You talk too much.” You clap back. What more could you say or do, deny the truth?

“And I can keep talking too— help me take these off you.” He says softly, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. Your que to lift your lower half up for him to pull them down. You’re left in your pink thong once they’re off, the cloth at the middle damp and wedged in between the folds of your pussy. His hand comes down to teasingly stroke at your heat, a ticklish feeling that has you instinctively widening your legs. He might think all his sweet talking softened you up, but the truth is that he had you growing wet the moment you answered the door and his big hands held your waist. 

“What time are your roommates coming back?” 

“Not sure…they won’t know you’re here. What you scared?” You bite your lip, looking up at him with teasing eyes. 

“Not scared of them— just gotta be quiet when they get back.” He grabs at your body tightly, large hands spanning over your hips and thighs. “Turn the music off, gotta listen out for the door.” He says, and you’re reaching for the remote you stuck behind your pillow to turn the TV off entirely. 

“Leave them on for a second.” He says, stopping you from taking off your thong next, mesmerized by how it digs into your hips and how its color perfectly complements your complexion. Slipping your hands under his shirt to run them up his chest, you pepper kisses along the side of his jaw as he pulls your thong to the side. Teasing two digits between your folds and around your clit to gather up slick, you can’t help but to buck up chasing more of the feeling. 

“Relax.” He tells you, a firm hand coming down to your hip. You hadn’t noticed you were tense, too caught up in a hurry trying to chase the sensation his touch brings. His command has you easing up, sinking yourself further into the mattress as he moves closer into your space to hover over you, not once breaking eye contact— eyes that you know better than to try and look away from. 

Dropping your hands to lay at your side, he tucks an arm behind your neck to rest his face in its crook, leaving kisses and soft bites along your skin. Running your fingers up into his hair to cradle him closer, bringing him chest to chest, he begins to drive his two fingers deep into you with each and every curl having you moan out in pleasure, widening your legs more in an attempt to rock up against them, chasing his fingers down to the knuckles.

You love the squish sounds your pussy makes, right along with the wet noise of his mouth as he works down your neck. He’s fully clothed still, and when you get the chance to look down you're sure he’s rock hard with the way he’s tenting his sweats. You’d take him out his pants to give him a helping hand, but with the way his fingers are fucking into you so damn good you’re too blissed out from pleasure to find the strength to do so.

Lifting off you a few good strokes later, he moves to tug his clothes off leaving him in his briefs, and you can’t stop your eyes from watching as he takes them off next. His pretty dick, already so hard and heavy, leaking pre. Taking him into your hand, you give his dick a few tight strokes then move to align him to your entrance. 

“I can’t get a taste first?” He breathes out catching your hand, a soft lustful look in his eyes. Oh he’s such a sweetie, always so eager to please, who are you to deny such a beautiful man? Letting go to maneuver your thong off for you, he shifts further down the bed pushing your thighs to the side, plump lips quickly meeting your pussy to give kisses to your clit.

Maybe it’s the pillow princess in you, but there’s nothing you love more than the view that comes with getting your box ate. His head buried between your thighs and your long acrylic nails gently playing with his hair. Your oil diffuser has been running in the corner this entire time— the light emitting from its LEDs casting a purplish glow onto everything throughout the room, and funny enough his soft white hair now resembles pink cotton candy. 

“Fuck—” You moan out softly with your toes curling, caught off guard by his tongue finding its way inside you. Pulling off to spit on your now sloppy pussy, he takes a thumb to smear it in, rubbing circles on your clit.

“Again.” You whine, dragging an index finger down to widen your pussy as you look down for a closer look when he spits again, this time nearly straight inside you. Watching his fingers push in and out of you afterwards heightening your arousal. It’s nasty, unlike anything you’ve experienced before, but you’re starting to enjoy being nasty for him. If he can be your lil' munch, you’ll happily be his lil' slut. Especially when he holds you this close, grips you just right, savors you up like a delicious treat, and murmurs how amazing you taste, loving how wet you get for him every time. 

“Condom?” He pulls off, coming up to lean over you waiting for your response before proceeding. “No…why you still gotta ask?” You say through a teasing smile. It’s only been him, no one else— can’t he tell? 

“Just wanna make sure…” He whispers, left hand trailing up to your chest to wrap around your neck then planting a kiss to your cheek. 

“‘Cause it’s mine right?” He taunts, with a thumb tracing your lower lip. Moving to aligning himself to your entrance you watch him push in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch of his girt as he sinks deeper into you.  

“Shit—” He draws out coming to a hilt, feeling the way you tighten around him he slowly pulls out then back in to watch the way your pussy grabs back at his dick. Taking ahold of your waist he uses a knee to widen you up more, then begins a slow roll of his hips fucking into you in such a way that has you whimpering in pleasure the moment his thighs meet the backsides of yours. 

It’s not enough though, too slow for your liking. You’re more into when fucks you down onto him rough and uncaring, really letting you feel every inch of his dick. The both of you know he’s got it in him, you hate that he’s holding back. 

“More— harder...” You whine out trying to rut against him, taking your left arm to wrap behind his neck, pushing him closer in effort to spur him on to quicken his pace, your other hand grabbing onto his side. 

“Uh-uh, we don’t have to rush…” He murmurs softly, “…i’m not going anywhere.” He shrugs off the arm that’s wrapped around him, taking a hold of your wrist to lay down at the side of your head then intertwining his hand into yours. 

“Let me make you feel good.” He pulls out again, this time sliding the tip through your folds then tapping it hard onto your pussy, causing an audible slap sound that has you humming in pleasure. 

“Wanna take my time with you— tell me where it feels good, okay?” 

You nod in response, voice stuck in your throat as his words fuel the fire that’s burning in your stomach. Lifting your head up a bit to watch as he slides back in, you bring a hand down taking two fingers to part your folds, fingers fixed in a V shape allowing his dick to thrust between them into you  

“There you go— spread it open for me.” He grunts, hips rolling slow and shallow, wetting his thumb to rub circles into your clit. “That feel good?” 

“Mhm— fuck…deeper.” You nod, he’s only got half his dick in and as much as you love the fact that it’s not even fully in you, yet still has you squirming, you know you can take more— all of it. 

“I got you…” He hushes, right hand taking ahold of your right thigh, folding it in towards the side, the new angle has him fucking deeper into you just the way you like it with the both of you watching as you squeeze around him as he continues thrusting in and out of your pussy.

“Toru…right there— don’t stop....” You moan, your own finger now coming to play at your clit. Pussy becoming even more drenched and your whole body growing hot from the way he’s now hitting directly onto your g-spot. 

“Here?” He gives another deep thrust hitting your cervix and that has your back arching, a hand coming down to his stomach to push him back. 

“Don’t run from it…” He thrusts again, loving the way your mouth parts into an O shape and how tightly you clench down onto him. He spits on your pussy again, looking down you catch a creamy ring starting to form around his dick and that’s turning you on even more. You love this nasty shit, letting him it raw and sloppy, slutting you out this good you’ll do just about anything for him. 

“Hold your legs.” He grunts, and you take a hold of your thighs folding them in, his right hand coming down to rest flat onto your stomach holding you steady as his hips snap faster. “Keep playing with it…” He says, and you let go one thigh, keeping it raised to rub at your clit. 

As much as you love getting fucked from behind, you’re growing to love missionary just as much. Him caging you in, whispering the nastiest shit he comes up with into your ear, holding yourself open for him to thrust deeper into you, watching the way his dick works into you as you play with your clit. You don’t love this boy but you definitely love the way he lays pipe, fucking into you just right as if he’s already learnt the layout of your pussy. Arousal overtaking your entire body you slide a hand under your cami to grab at your boobs. Your thighs are now starting to tremble then the next thing you know you’re leaking wet fluid then squirting all over his dick. Tightening up so much he has to pull out.

“Shit— come back.” You pant, nails drenched along with the finger that was playing with your clit pruning. Sitting up some you move to wipe your hand on your stomach to get most of it off you. Taking his fingers to push through your folds he collects up just enough slick, bringing them to your mouth for you to suck clean and you happily oblige wrapping your lips around his two digits. 

“See how wet you are…” He draws his hand back, coming down to rub small quick circles into your pussy, then a few light taps producing a squish sound it’s wetness. “This how I want you to have it ready for me whenever I come see you.” He leans over to whispers into your ear, you’re then feeling him push back into you causing you to buck your hips up chasing his length and god…just the thought of being in your bedroom playing with your pussy, getting it all nice and wet for him before he comes through is taking you from one hundred to a thousand— it’s about time the slut comes out, no more slow shit, you want to fuck for real now. 

“Fuck me…c’mon…wanna cum.” You whine, and that has him taking a hold of your ass, scooting you down the bed closer to his hips quickening his pace, snapping his hips fast, helped by the curve of his dick hitting your g-spot with damn near perfect precision. 

“There— don’t stop.” You whine, yet your hands still come down to the tops of his thighs to push him back. 

“Stop running.” He collects both wrists into his hands, holding them down above your head as he begins to fuck into your mercifully, hips never stuttering.

“Spit on it again.” You beg, and he does. A fat wad that you feel drip down between your ass. You weren’t into getting your coochie spat on before but fuck it, you’re with all the nasty shit tonight. 

“You nasty baby, ain’t think you’d be into that shit. What else do you like, talk to me.” He pants, looking you straight in the eye as he says it, and you're blown away by how gorgeous he looks despite already looking spent with the front of his hair sweated out against his forehead. 

“Like when you spank m— ahh!” A hard slap then grip to your ass cuts you off, he thrusts into you deeper in response to your moan. “Fuck, do that again— mhmp!” 

Slap!

“Mmmm— what else?”

“Like when you grip me tight— on my waist…there just like that.” You stammer out, a hand coming down to squeeze where you showed him to hold. 

“Like when you put your hands around my neck— mmm like that…don’t choke me.” You moan, his large hand wrapping around your throat without any pressure, and you’re batting your eyes all pretty, biting your lip, clenching down on him in return. 

“You feel so fucking good…love how you fuck me…what it feel like for you?” 

“Feels amazing baby, every single time.” He grunts, deep thrusts followed by each of his last three words. “My pretty girl— you’re so fucking perfect.”

“Swear— not one bitch out here comes close to you.” He says clearly for you to hear— no believe it, and that has you dizzy, clinging onto him and letting out choked up moans that are music to his ears spurring him on.  

“Fuck— cum in me.” You moan, too fucked out to care about how you sound right now. You don’t want him to pull out this time, want him to take you however which way he wants, bury his dick deep and bust all up in you. 

“Mmm— want me too?” He teases, feeling his dick twitch inside you. 

“So bad….” You run a hand up into his hair, gripping his locks to bring him closer towards you.  “…wanna watch it drip out…want you to put it back in so you can keep going then cum in me again.”

“Ooooo— don’t say that…” He chuckles low, you can tell by the way his hips stutter that the thought of it is fucking his head up. 

“Serious…it’s your pussy— ahh!” Another hard slap to your ass cuts you off, “You said it’s mine now?” He grins wickedly, knows he’s got you slipping, can hear it in your voice.

“Been yours.” You spit back, tired of the teasing. “Said I’m your girl right? Treat it like it’s yours then, cum in me.”

“Heh— you don’t know what you’re saying.” He says low, and you hate that look in his eyes, like you’re out of your mind, too dick drunk and fucked stupid to know what you’re asking for. 

“Cum in m— ahh mmmh…t-think about you when you’re not here…want you to fuck me everyday— cum in me as much as you wa— shit ahh!” Another deep thrust that hits your cervix again, making you grip the sheets pressing your heels into the mattress to lower yourself, running from it. 

“Lemme be that girl for you…” You continue powering through, wrapping a leg over his back to lock him in. Your voice is needy and dripping with sex, you don’t care how you sound, you'll say anything to tip him over the edge and spill into you. 

“Stop talking…” His voice shakes, your own having an affect on him as you feel his dick twitch again up inside you. 

“Thought you like it when I talk…” You tease with a smile, he’s getting weak, you can tell you’re about to make him cum. 

“Not when you— stop that…” He pushes a hand down on your stomach as you clench around his dick again in an attempt to pull another reaction out of him.

“I was wrong about you…” He speaks up sounding more collected, taking a thumb to part your lips, then dragging down to take a hold of your chin to raise it up. “…you’re not shy…” He slows his thrusts, coming to a complete stop buried deep in you. Two hands come to caress the side of your face, then down your neck, running all over your chest and back up again as if he’s taking in the softness of your skin. “…you just ain’t ever have somebody turn you out…’least not the way I do.”  

You can’t help but smile at the fucking truth that is, a small giggle that you’re able to hold down almost coming up from within you.

“I’m not nutting in you tonight.” He states plainly, “But I can fuck you like the lil pornstar you’re tryna be…come lick it up real quick...I need a break I don’t wanna nut just yet.” He pulls out of your wrecked pussy, sitting back on his heels holding his dick in his hand ready for you to clean off.  

Lifting up with a breathy groan from how sore your thighs ache, you arch down low in front of him, taking him in your hand and squeezing roughly at the tip just the way he likes it, licking up every bit of yourself off him. 

“Bring it up for me…yeah.” He leans over you to grab your ass, and you’re raising it up higher for him to get a better grip.

“Get the front. Sides. All of it.” You do as he instructs, swirling your tongue as you stroke his dick then you’re wrapping your lips around him. About a minute or so later, once you're sure you’ve cleaned it all up, you’re pulling off with an audible pop and a smile on your face. 

“Turn…” He motions for you to move. You turn around, arching down low as he knees his way up the bed, his hands resting on either side of your ass, aligning his dick to your entrance. “Scoot back closer to me…right here…arch…lower…there you go.” He guides you down into position, hands rubbing up and down your back as he does so. 

Missionary great but backshots are even better. Love how it feels when he pushes in, hands pressing deep into the dimples of your back, dick hard and curving up into you fast, tight grip of his hands on your body working you down to feel every inch of his length.  

You don’t miss the string of curses he lets out as his hips slam up into you either, the sound of your ass clapping his hips as you fuck back onto him. Even the weight you’re putting on him is throwing his rhythm off to where he’s taking a hand to your shoulder to steady himself as he fucks into you like a bully. Just wait till I see you again— yeah that was code for ‘Imma bust your shit open’.

Slap!

“You got it baby— just like that.” He groans against your ear, followed by another hard slap against the underside of your thigh almost making you crawl up the bed. 

Slap!

“Uh-uh come on, keep pushing back.” He calls out, pushing you down further causing your legs to widen for him, giving more access to fuck into you. He’s so deep, degrading thrusts knocking up against your cervix with you panting out in a mix of pain and pleasure yet you love it so much. Love the way he fucks like you’ve got the best pussy he’s ever been in, tearing your shit up like he’s mad at you. 

This ain’t just fucking now, nah this is different, y’all screwing. The type of fucking you shouldn’t be doing with just anybody, likely as to why it feels so damn good this way. He ain’t your man just yet, but he’s definitely becoming your something. 

Arching with your chest completely flat against the mattress, you then bring a hand behind yourself to spread your cheeks apart, holding your pussy open for him with his hand coming to grab you at the wrist tight to hold you back. 

“Whose is it?” 

“Yours!” You cry out, taking your free hand down in between your legs to play at your clit. Face squished into the mattress, you can feel yourself drooling but you don’t care, you need to cum so bad. You’re almost there. 

“Uh-uh, say my name baby. Yours who?”

“Yours Gojo!” 

“Mmmm.” You hear him chuckle, pleased by the way his name sounds coming off your tongue. “What I gotta do, nut in you for you to remember?” 

“Yeah— go ’head do it.” You whine out looking back at him and holy shit the look on his face has you burning up even more, you can tell he’s trying his hardest to hold back from bussing. You fucked him enough times by now to know he’s close when his brows knit together like that. 

Lifting yourself up to hold onto your headboard for leverage, he comes up closer behind you, your back to his chest as he fucks up into you deep and hurried holding onto your breasts. The creak of your bed frame and squeak of your mattress coils adding to the pants and moans coming from the both of you. 

“Can’t even feel my dick— that’s how wet you are.” He breathes into your ear, your hands coming to cover his own two holding him closer, loving the way they feel grabbing and squeezing your tits.

“You really gonna let me cum in you one day?” He breathes, unsteady too and you love the sound of it— how he’s not shy to show how weak your pussy gets him. 

“Of course—”

“Fuck— I think I heard the door, your roommates might of came back.” He breathes out, yet neitherare stopping as he’s still fucking into you chasing his own orgasm.  

“Your bed is loud…we gotta slow down.” He warns, and you feel his pace start to slow, and that just won’t do— you need him to cum. You don’t give a fuck if your roommates hear, you spent too many nights hearing them get fucked. They can give you a damn pass. 

“Don’t stop— keep going.” You buck back, “ ‘ts your pussy…take it whenever you want…stop fucking worrying about shit.”

“Fuck you want them to hear you?” His hand comes up to your neck, wrapping around your throat a bit tight as he fucks you down onto his length picking his pace back up. 

“I don’t give a f— hmph!” You squeak, not expecting his hand to slap over your mouth to hold back your moans in an attempt to keep you quiet. He’s fucking into you relentlessly now, hips snapping like crazy as he chases his orgasm. Bringing your finger back down to continue rubbing circles into your clit you soon feel that familiar heat rise up your body, then the next thing you know you’re cumming and moaning in pleasure but he doesn’t stop, continuing to fuck up into your tore pussy. 

Dropping his hand from your mouth he presses you back to the mattress and after a few final thrusts he’s pushing off you with his back hitting the mattress, stroking his dick fast then cumming all over his knuckles and chest. 

“Shit— fuck!” He pants, white ropes of hot cum dripping off the side of his toned stomach. “We gotta chill…” He breathes out. “…I almost nutted in you.” He pants, completely fucked out.  

“I know…” You roll onto your back besides him, watching as he gives his dick a couple more strokes, squeezing the last bit of cum out of him, slowly dripping down his dick. 

Post nut clarity is starting to hit. He’s right, y’all need to chill…your ass isn’t on birth control, and you haven’t told him that yet either. You know in your heart he’s the last person you want to have to send a ‘I need to tell you something’ text too.

Reaching around for your phone, you glance at the time to see it’s just past midni— for more, read the rest of the chapter here…

[scattered-winter]

it's about knowing someone so well that you know you can raise a child with them. it's about suffering so much and losing everything you once loved as a child but building a world where your child would never have that happen to them. it's about spending your life as a tragic story and making a conscious decision to close the book and find peace. and most of all it's about raising your kid with the person you've been through seven different kinds of hell with and knowing that your kid will only know about it from stories, not from experiencing it themselves

the powerful urge to give all my traumatized ocs kids after the war is over both as a sign that they have recovered enough to care for another human being and as a sign that they feel safe enough to raise children in a world they know will be better to the kids than it was to them

[roachliquid]

Man. It really bites seeing Maximus (from the Fallout series) be so heavily overlooked by the fandom, when he is such a well-written character. Bar none, he's one of the best fictional examples I have ever seen of someone raised in a high-control group.

The Brotherhood of Steel, in their entirety, are given all the classic traits of a cult or HCG. They boast about having these grandiose ideals, all of which revolve around controlling other people's behavior. They use those same ideals to justify abusing lower-ranking members, implying all the while that it serves some greater good. And despite their supposedly rigorous beliefs, they're happy to turn a blind eye to unsanctioned abuse - because it serves the same purpose of keeping people "in their place".

Then we're introduced to Maximus - a young man who has made the mistake of taking those ideals seriously, but due to the environment he's been trapped in, was never taught how to act on them in a real and meaningful way. And in the process of figuring that out, he fucks up. (He fucks up a lot, because the Brotherhood wouldn't dare teach him anything that might help him function without their support.) But he genuinely wants to do the right thing, and we see that come through time and again as he slowly learns how to be his own person.

And yet, even with all that growth under his belt, getting away from the group isn't that simple. Because, like any high control group worth its salt, the Brotherhood doesn't want you to leave. Sure, they'll threaten to kick you out (or in this case, kill you) - because it keeps you in line. But they'd much rather have you under their thumb, so he still has to deal with the threat of getting sucked back in.

As a cult survivor, I rarely see people like me depicted accurately in the media. We're almost always either scheming sadists or helpless barefoot victims - you rarely see a nuanced depiction of how a regular person, with both good intentions and the skills needed to get away, can still end up trapped in that kind of group. Maximus is an incredible example of how that can play out, and I hope more people come to appreciate both him as a character and how well that dynamic was handled.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

This just popped up in my mind and I just wnated you to picture this

So imagine a teen kid coming to the slendermanor and obviously they're a teen so everyone expects them to be loud and trouble in general because teens are teens at the end of the day. Just to find out that the teen is actually very mature because they were forced into a situation where they had to be mature at a young age and they're just quiet(but also have mad good murder tactics). Like i just imagine jeff trying to scare the child for shits and giggles and they just stare at him like 🙂

Summary: Quiet teen reader gets into shenanigans in the manor

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/n: The battle between Jeff and children is an age old war that I don't see ending anytime soon. ALSO SIDE NOTE, I'm probably gonna be changing up my format for writing majorly soon because im tired of looking at it lolz

Credits: Any Creepypasta characters used- Creepypasta, Divider- saradika-graphics, Picture- Pinterest

Creeps x mature!teen!reader

Generally when kids are brought into the manor, everyone's vibe is "Aw man that's really sad :(" even if they are a teen

Of course, once they get over the sadness, the anxiety starts peeking through

Like not even just teens, all kids are rowdy and annoying so no one really wants to deal with that

So when you get there and you're chill they're like "oh thank god"

No one likes rowdy kids

However, even that can have its hinderances

Like, it's definetly nothing as bad as you being crazy around the manor, but more so just concerning habits

For example, Brian can never do his job as a caretaker, because he'll be coming down the stairs only to see that all of his assigned kids are already out of bed

And when he finally finds them, they are watching T.V

He will ask "Are you guys ready for breakfast?" and they will reply "No thanks, y/n fed us!"

Or E.J, who as we know can't stand dirty things or unhygienic things, will be so confused when that pile of trash he commented on is suddenly gone only a few minutes later

Or his fridge will magically be cleaned out right when he was about to go and do it

Toby will be wondering where on earth his favorite hoodie and hatches went, only to find you out back sharpening and cleaning them, and his hoodie in the washer

Everyone is grateful for your help and all, but it's a little strange?

Like why do you feel the need to do these things? Do you just like helping out or do you feel you need to?

Then there's Ben and Jeff

No fucks given

So what if you're like 13? Jeff was being lit on fire at that age, grow tf up 🙄

Anyways, they both get a kick out of scaring kids

Jeff more than Ben, but it's a fun little friendship activity they do together <333

So when you are exploring the manor one day, suddenly Jeff bumps into you, being waaay nicer than usual

"Hey, y/n! I was just looking for you!"

"Oh, Hello Jeff. Did you need something?"

He'll grin real big and hold your shoulders "Yeah, I just need to test something real quick, so don't move. Just stay exactly like this, kay?"

You nod and do as told, but Jeff doesn't move either, he just stands still, still holding onto your shoulders and staring into your eyes

You then feel a chill go up your spine, and all of a sudden a horrifying warped face that looks as if it was straight out of an analog horror jumps right in front of you

You do jump a little, but other than that, there's no reaction

Jeff immediately drops the act and lets go of you "Ugh, really? Whatever loser, I'll go find someone else to scare"

And with that, he stomps off, but Ben stays for a little bit, his face still contorted into that scary one

He wiggles his fingers and makes an "Oooooo" sound before also walking off behind Jeff

They lose interest in you very quickly after realizing you won't give them a satisfactory reaction

[lune-redd]

Hello, it's Lelly.

As you may know, I have recently deactivated my Twitter account. A lot of people are speculating I left because I was being harassed for drawing my older depiction of Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls as chubby. However... that's not the direct reason I left. In fact, I didn't really see much of the comments of folks on there getting riled up about it as I muted the tweet the morning I saw that it blew up. I was only merely aware of it all by being told about it from friends, with there being some other users on the site making other really fuckin' stupid comments about my art.

This does however lead into why I actually left Twitter, and it's because of Twitter's overall toxic nature. Overtime, I've really gotten sick of how absolutely revolting Twitter has become to experience. The site is basically built around dunk culture and doom scrolling. You know that one tweet of someone making an example of Twitter's utter stupidity by using pancakes and waffles as an example?

I bring this up because I think this fits my point about how Twitter has this thing of assuming the absolute worst about the most insignificant things, even the most innocuous. The "Bubbles obesity" comments weren't the only stupid comments that came out of that post. I also got a quote retweet that I was "forcefully feminizing Buttercup", even though the whole fucking point of that drawing was to depict a usually tough character in an unusual situation for her. I have also gotten stupid comments on other drawings though, like the one where Mitch pushes Buttercup down for trying to look taller than she is and I got called a misogynist for it, though I'm pretty sure that one was bait (Twitter users have a tough time figuring out what is and isn't bait, it's dunk culture that I'm about to talk about really doesn't help this).

The site's dunk culture is also really fuckin' bad. Quote retweets are a disease, as unlike Tumblr's reblog comments, quote retweets count as a different post. Someone disagrees with you? Show your audience how stupid they are on your page! Hey, are you trying not to see the most abhorrent racist statement imaginable? Well TOO BAD FUCK YOU here's a le epic own giving them all the attention in the world even though one of the most common internet rules are DON'T FEED THE FUCKIN' TROLLS YOU IDIOT. Oh hey, are you trying to explain how you prefer a certain artistic choice over another in something you like? Well you're a deranged ungrateful whiny nitpicker, get owned!

I've seen so many of my friends be belittled for simply discussing their artistic preferences of things they're passionate about. I had a friend who said he prefers the original Crash Bandicoot design over his redesigned look in Crash 4, and had legitimate reasons for why he felt that way (even if he didn't really explain them clearly), and he got dunked for it which made me mad. I'm sick and tired of it all. The reaction to my art is only a mere example of the shit I despise about that site.

I had been planning on leaving Twitter for quite some time, as my follower count was growing nearer and nearer to 10K. I had planned on leaving after 10K followers because that amount was wayyyy too fuckin big for me to handle. I'm a young and growing lad, and I felt it wouldn't be good for my mental sanity to handle all that, so I dipped. The amount of attention I've been getting is simultaneously both wonderful and extremely overwhelming. Even the explosion of new followers and asks on here is quite the load! (Seriously, calm the fuck down y'all) I am very grateful for all the supportive asks I've gotten even though I won't be able to answer them all, thank you all so very much.

tl;dr I didn't leave Twitter because I was being harassed or anything, but rather because of the site's overall toxic and belittling environment.

Adios.

-Lelly

[bijoumikhawal]

there's people who don't consider what Tain did to Garak to be abuse at all. They consider it "normal" in line with how mafia families and such act (which, someone may note, is still abuse in those cases too), and say that Garak's closet story is a lie- despite the fact that Garak tells Ezri about it without realizing that it was unusual or bad at first. He doesn't use it as a sympathetic ploy to distract her, he seems genuinely shocked and later, annoyed that she thinks that was abusive (or at least that she thinks his abuse is impacting him now).

everybody talks about tain, and with good reason, but nobody ever talks about mila. we don’t see her very often, but these interactions just reek of abuse.

(even if “you shouldn’t be involved” was meant to be concerned/affectionate as abusers sometimes are, garak’s reaction and immediate “if it’s no trouble that is” interjection is very telling, imo.)

[dark-konohagakure2]

Sebastian and William t spears trying to one up each other using reader

tw: noncon, double penetration, overstimulation, degradation, competition, size difference

All characters depicted are 18+

William has a very strong distaste towards Sebastian and demons in general, one he will make well known, and while Sebastian isn't as verbal about it, the feeling is very mutual, in fact he'd want to wring the Reaper's neck if it wasn't for his young master's orders and William's death scythe. But even two bitter adversaries are allowed to have a bit of friendly competition.

At first William will scoff at the idea of engaging in such a frivolous game, especially with a demon, but Sebastian knows how to push people's buttons without letting his butler facade crack. Sebastian will tease William and taunt him for apparently being inexperienced in bed, and not wanting to be outdone by such a foul beast, he ends up caving.

It isn't easy for the demon butler to pick up a poor unsuspecting lady or servant girl with his good looks and charms, one who'd be naive enough to follow a stranger like him just because he's pretty, although he wouldn't pick anyone demonic, that would either turn William off completely or excite the reaper a bit too much at the prospect of dominating a member of a species he so despises.

Sebastian won't give up on his venomous taunts against William even when he's balls deep inside of the young woman's pussy alongside the reaper, delighting in his attempts to make the cold and professional man lose his unbreakable composure, at least slightly.

"Hmm~? Is something the matter, Mister Reaper~? If you keep going that slowly you'll never be able to make our little morsel cum, much less achieve climax yourself..."

William isn't going to allow himself to lose to a horrid demon of all things, even if it's at something as insignificant as bringing some helpless human girl to climax, his hips thrusting up in a mechanical movement as he fucks into her, his cock sliding lewdly against's Sebastian's inside of the tight and wet space they're sharing.

The sensation of getting fucked by two different yet very similar supernatural beings is too much for the poor girl, and it's a wonder that she can withstand the dual penetration without passing out from the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. Sebastian with tease her as much as his butler facade will allow, while William is almost completely silent the entire time, making a few low noises whenever he cums.

Sebastian isn't going to allow himself to be bested by William at something he himself is already very good at, he has more experience with human women, having slept with multiple of them for information or just for the pleasure of it on many different occasions, and being the suave demon he is, he knows exactly what filthy thing to whisper in her ear to make her weak in the knees.

William doesn't want to lose this little game either, while he isn't as rough, sadistic, or vocal as Sebastian, he's much more precise, having enough knowledge of the human body due to his line of work to hit all the right spots to leave her a writhing and whimpering mess between the two hellish creatures, that is until the barrage of sensations taking over her body becomes too much to bear.

"Humans are so pitifully feeble. I counted only five orgasms and you've already fallen unconscious, such pathetic endurance. Well, it seems as this has concluded in a draw, demon..."

They're both rather disappointed that they weren't able to reach a definitive conclusion on which one of them is superior in bed, but it's a minor setback, they aren't mortal beings like humans are, so they have all the time in the world to settle this petty little dispute they are having.

[gay-jesus-probably]

I like the general fandom trend to just take the plot of Hyrule Warriors as a loose guideline at best and just use the whole concept as a good excuse to get blorbos to interact across timelines, BUT I'm very disappointed that everyone is missing the comedic potential of a very specific squad of characters:

Young Link (aka Mask), who walks out of the nightmare of Majora's Mask and immediately gets portal kidnapped into a temporal war, takes one look at the whole mess and decides that you could not fucking pay him to admit to being the resident expert on Time Shenanigans. He introduces himself with the title of Hero of Termina, and definitely doesn't have any other ones, that would be crazy. Hero of Time? Never heard of him.

Tetra, who is a kickass pirate captain with zero patience for people trying to shove her into the Designated Princess role, and realizes immediately that Oh Fuck, this Hyrule has a lot of Ideas about how the Hero and the Princess are supposed to properly play their parts, the second they realize she's technically a Zelda they're gonna shove her in a goddamn dress and damsel her again, that's not happening. So she's definitely just a really cool pirate captain, nothing else going on here at all, definitely not the heir of the Hylian royal family in her time, that'd be crazy.

Ravio, who is literally just a palette swapped Link, meaning that the second his hood comes off, things are gonna get Awkward. There's no way in hell he's dealing with all that Hero baggage, that's Link work, so that giant bunny hood/mask is practically superglued to his head, and he's not taking it off for love or money.

Spirit Tracks Zelda, who is just in the Phantom Armour the whole time, and passing herself off as just a friendly ghost posessing a suit of armour to help the Hero of Spirits. Of course she isn't Princess Zelda, that's ridiculous, if she were a Zelda then people would start getting really weird about her technically being dead, and boy does that ever sound like a whole Thing she doesn't want to deal with, so she can't possibly be Zelda, she's just a nice ghost knight. Also, her teenage grandma is here, and that's kinda weird, so it's easier to just not admit to being royalty and avoid that awkward conversation.

Finally there's Sheik, who is not the Princess Zelda of the era straight up abandoning her war torn country for months at a time so she can risk her life in extreme cosplay for no clear reason, but is instead the actual Sheik from Ocarina of Time, who just beat Ganondorf like a month ago and is still trying to process what the fuck to do now. Also, he's been pretending to be a boy since he was ten, and is realizing there's a pretty good chance that he isn't pretending anymore, so that's a whole other can of worms. But for the last seven years of his life, being Princess Zelda meant certain death, so he's not really inclined to introduce himself like when in a new and stressful situation (not to mention he might actually just not be a girl named Zelda anymore), so he automatically introduces himself as just Sheik the spooky ninja man, and fuck he's in too deep to back out now, looks like he's committing to the bit. If you think you sense the Triforce of Wisdom on him, no you don't.

Cue shenanigans as the five of them attempt to hide that they're all actually kind of A Big Deal. The group motto is "Nobody says shit", which is usually delivered as a frantic hiss whenever someone slips up. Just the reunion between Sheik and Mask alone would be absolutely buckwild given how they parted, and how they're both frantically pretending to Not be involved with each other. For added hilarity and/or drama, Sheik gives his semi-bullshit cover story of having just been a friend of the Hero of Time, then runs into said Hero of Time and they both have to desperately pretend not to know each other, because if anyone picks up on the mountain of baggage between them then Mask is busted, and he won't hesitate to drag Sheik down with him out of sheer spite. Not to mention the weird balance of Sheik being used to this Link being a teenager that's actually a small child, and now has to adjust to Link who is a small child that's actually a teenager.

Also, i really feel like we're all missing out on the comedy potential of Ganondorf recognizing Young Link on sight and the two of them immediately launching into a grudge match with some extremely personal and specific insults on both sides. Meanwhile literally everybody else is just standing there watching, trying to process the fact that out of every single person that's been pulled out of time, Ganondorf only has personal beef with a literal nine year old.

I just feel like we're all really sleeping on the potential for Shenanigans here. The whole thing is an absurd mess, why not have some fun with it?

[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Colossus/Fem!Reader

I've been infected with another fictional man the way in which I pumped this out was ridiculous. I happened to re watch the scene in the movies where the government breaks into the mansion and seeing Piotr act like a big brother/dad to all the kids really got to me. That and the Deadpool movies (even though I thinks he's a little stuffy in those.) I even rewatched the episode he had in the animated series so that I knew I would get his character right and DAMN ugh god I juts have a thing for big men with soft hearts. especially the ones who are family oriented.

ALSO HOLY SHIT TY FOR 600 FOLLOWERS???? when did yall get here???? I swear I was at like 48 two weeks ago lmao time flies when you're thirsty for the X men I guess!! TWs: None? No pronouns mentioned but I went ahead and labeled it as fem because it's basically about kids forcefully adopting you as their mom. Kids having night terrors mentioned.

Can you imagine sort of just being adopted by the students at the mansion as mutant mom?? At that point you don't really get a choice. Like you start out being very patient with these kids and making sure to keep bandaids, burn cream, pain meds and all of that because one way or another something is gonna happen- and you want to be prepared.

And then you start making breakfast. I feel like normally they probably have a schedule for who has breakfast duty but if you wake up and can't go back to sleep and you take over no one really cares. More sleep for them!!

And then a few times turns into every morning. And you're setting out ketchup for one kids eggs and syrup for another ones hashbrowns- and making sure not to cook with nuts and make sure there's at least three different things on the table that are Kosher or gluten free. Keeping an eye on everyone as they come to get food and noting who did and did not make it to breakfast this morning so that you can make sure they eat later-

And one day you're waking up at 5am and getting ready for the day so you can go make breakfast like always, and you look in the mirror at some point and just realise, holy fuck, when did you become a parent?

It's such a regular thing for kids to call you mom at that point, a knowing how so many of them have come from rough backgrounds, it makes you really happy to know they find comfort in you and will come find you if they need comforting.

And then there's Piotr. Big, strong, Piotr. Piotr who wakes up before dawn and does chores around the mansion in the early morning air. You can take the man out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the man. He does the lawn care, chops wood, takes care of whatever animals that might need feeding, replaces the feed in the bird feeder.

Piotr who makes sure to stop by the kitchen to share a small cup of coffee with you before he does chores. Piotr who hangs Hummingbird feeders right outside the kitchen windows because you mentioned you missed the ones your grandmother used to hang. Just Piotr, being strong and masculine and an absolute sweetheart.

He reminds me of that one quote that heard somewhere about masculinity being about protecting femininity, not rejecting it??? That one!!!

Kids call him dad all the time, and even though yall aren't even together, you become the parents of the school. Scott and Jean?? Love them, but they don't have that same kind of parent energy.

It's such a regular thing for kids to find the two of you interacting one way or another. Someone woke up way too early and enters the kitchen to find yall during your coffee, and there's a sweet moment with yall telling them to go back to bed, or offering to make them a quick breakfast. Maybe if they're really young Piotr will offer to tuck them in. He might be really blunt when telling them there are no monsters, but will be a little more gentle when you set a hand on his arm and give him a bit of a look.

The kiddo asks for both of you to tuck them in and you obviously aren't going to refuse them. Which leads to everyone wanting both of you to tuck them in and soon enough you two are doing curfew checks instead of the professor.

It's becomes so regular for the students to treat you two as their parents, and no one actually believes it when they find out that no, you're not a couple. So, they do what kids do and try to get you two together.

First it starts with making sure you two are sat together during everything they can get away with. Then it moves on to things like mistletoe (out of season, Piotr mistook it as an accidental bloom made by one of the agrokinesis kids and took it down) and then more mischievous plans like telling one of you that the other needed help with one thing or another, knowing that either one of you would help out at the drop of a hat. Sureee, they were lying, but you two didn't know that. (most of the time)

The kids just want to see their parents happy and in love. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It's not like You and Piotr hadn't been helplessly pining for the other the entire time anyway.

You sigh deeply once you finally sneak out of the dorm room, Piotr right behind you. The tall man takes extra care to shut the door very gently, making sure it clicks in place just as silently.

"I thought we were never going to get her to sleep." You whisper to him. One of the youngest girls attending the school had a rather difficult time with night terrors, and would struggle to fall asleep without being tucked in. When you and Piotr were doing curfew checks tonight, she was the only kiddo still awake, and she had practically begged both of you to stay with her untill she finally did fall asleep. It couldn't be just one of you, It had to be both. No matter how many rooms you both had to check tonight, you would never have left her shaken up in such a state. You just hadn't expected it to take an hour.

"Illyana had similar dreams as a little one. It takes time for children to overcome it." Piotr whispers back as you begin to walk down the hallway to check the rest of the rooms. Even when he whispers, his voice is strong and hard to keep quiet. You know there's truth to what he says, and yet you can't help but wish you could do something more to help her with her nightmares. You rub some warmth into your arms anxiously as you think about it, surprised when you feel the warm weight of Piotr's hand settle in between your shoulder blades.

"You're worrying again." He states, frowning slightly when you look up at him. You send him a resigned smile, before it quickly falls as you look away.

"I can't help it. I worry about all of them, her especially. They just... deserve so much more than their lot in life." You say. Piotr hums in response, his thumb brushing idly against your back.

"Their life like us, you mean? Mutants?" His question makes you wince.

"No. Yes? I don't know. I just... I just wish that we could give them more than... this." You say, waving your hands to motion about the mansion. "The school might very well be the only safe space they have their entire life. The world hasn't been kind to them, and I'm not sure it ever will be." Your words begin to quiet down as you finish the sentence, lowing to a whisper that only he can hear. You'd never, ever want any of these kids hear a word of what you're saying. Knowing that hope is really all they have at their age, and you of all people refuse to be the one to destroy that beautiful childlike optimism.

"That is what we are working for as the X-men, yes? To change that?" Piotr asks you point blank, his hand moving up towards the back of your neck in a soothing manner that still gives you goosebumps, feeling the comforting heat of his hand even stronger than before.

"Yeah, but..."

"Then we are doing all we can." He finishes, a smile on his face that's so determined and confident that it very nearly changes your mind completely. Nonetheless, it's a reassuring smile that makes your chest feel warm and fuzzy. You smile back at him finally, and you swear you see fondness in his eyes.

It doesn't take long before the two of you are finally at your door. You give Piotr a short and sweet goodnight as you begin to step inside, but he stops you before you go, gently catching hold of your arm. For the first time, you think you've seen him debate on his words. His mouth opens, but he doesn't speak at first, and you swear you see a blush rising to his cheeks as he does so.

"You'd make a good mother." He says eventually, and it makes you smile widely.

"You'd make a good dad." You tell him. There's silence between you as he brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face in a fond and caring manner, and you swear you could trick yourself into believing that you and Piotr were already in domestic bliss if this moment goes on for any longer. The tall man leans in, and you find your mind short circuiting as he presses a kiss to your forehead. The simple action somehow leaving you beyond flustered.

"Sleep well, Любовь моя. I will see you in the morning." Piotr tells you, before walking off at his regular stiff pace. You stand in your doorway for a minute, watching him leave with a bit of a confused smile on your face. Out of all the Russian nicknames he's called you in the past, you had never heard him say that one before. You wonder if you should pick up a book on the language as you close your door and finally crawl into bed, although part of you is content to leave it be. Colossus had always been blunt, and you're sure he'd tell you eventually. You fall asleep just as you always do, excited to see him when you wake up in the morning.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Pilot | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 4833

A/N: This is gonna be the slowest of burns. Every Saturday, these will publish at 3:00 PM CDT! I hope you all enjoy. Taglist/Requests are open!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

A trail of men disappearing spanning decades had brought you to Jericho, California. It seemed it would be a pretty standard hunt. From the moment you arrived, though, you knew this would be different.

You’d run into other hunters on jobs before, but none as strange and belligerent as John. John was all you knew him by. He was rough around the edges, and in all honesty, a complete dick. You had unintentionally gotten into an unspoken race with him to see who could finish the hunt first. Both of you refused to back off and go find another job; you just out of spite and him… you had no idea why a guy old enough to be your father was being so petty and territorial about this hunt. And perhaps that’s what fueled your fire to finish this hunt before John could. You thought maybe he knew something you didn’t about the hunt, and you were desperate to find out. But then… he disappeared. 

About a week into the “competition” you were having with John, he disappeared. You didn’t see him around Joseph Welch’s house, the Breckenridge Road home, or the Centennial Highway Bridge. It was completely puzzling. He didn’t seem like the type to up and leave in the middle of a job, but you brushed the unsettled feeling you had aside to keep pushing through your hunt. 

You had torched the body of Constance Welch the same night you guessed John left. You were just about to leave town, and then, Troy Squire ended up dead by what you assumed were Constance’s hands. 

You pulled up to the Centennial Highway Bridge in yet another stolen car. 

‘One of these days I won’t keep putting a neon sign on my back by stealing cars and actually find a way to buy one,’ you thought.

Almost as if on cue, another car pulled up next to yours. Except this car— a black 1967 Chevy Impala— was way nicer than the shitty sedan you’d copped for the time being. 

Two young men in the most layers you’ve ever seen anyone wear in the California sun stepped out on either side of the car. You pushed aside the thought of how attractive the shorter of the pair was and kept walking toward the taped-off part of the bridge where a few officers were milling around a crashed car. 

“Is that Troy’s? Oh, my God,” you shook your head, making sure the officers could hear you. 

“Ma’am, you are not supposed to be here,” an officer told you, trying to keep you from walking any closer to the car.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just—” you sniffed, “—I’m his cousin. We were really close growing up, and I, uh, just had to see this for myself, um, do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”

“We were wondering the same thing,” a deep voice called from behind you, making you wheel around.

‘Fuck. The Impala dudes.’

“And who are you?” the officer you’d been speaking to asked.

“Federal marshals,” one said, flashing a badge.

‘Goddammit, more hunters.’ You held back an eye roll, doing your best to stay in character.

“You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?”

The one you’d found attractive initially flashed a smile. “Thanks, that's awfully kind of you. You just had another one just like this, correct?”

The officer you’d been speaking to didn’t seem too convinced by their story, but replied anyway. “Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.”

“Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?”

“No. Not so far as we can tell.”

“So, what's the theory?” the taller guy asked. 

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?” The officer seemed to remember you were standing there as he spoke. “Ma’am, I really do need you to go.”

“I was just about to—” you started, before the shorter guy cut you off. 

“What kinda crack police work are you doing; talking about sensitive information in front of townies?” He was cut off with a grunt; apparently the other guy had stepped on his foot. 

“Thank you for your time,” you told the officer, suddenly feeling very awkward. You turned on your heel, hurrying away. 

***

After the bizarre incident with the other two hunters on the bridge, you went down to a local diner to get something to eat. You were puzzled as to why Constance was still around after you torched her bones. You flipped through a few pages of your journal when you saw the two hunters from the bridge walking in with two goth chicks. 

‘What the fuck. First John, and now this.’

The shorter one of the pair caught the glare you threw their way over your shoulder. He had a smug look on his face you couldn’t quite read as he sat down in a booth with the girls and his partner. You did your best to listen in on their conversation as you sipped your drink. 

“I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did,” you heard one of the girls lament. 

You recognized the voice of the taller one. “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?”

“No. Nothing I can remember.”

“I like your necklace.”

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—” the girl laughed, “—with all that devil stuff.”

“Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.”

“Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries,” the other guy’s voice broke in. 

You held back a small laugh. You hated to admit it, but he was pretty funny. 

“Here's the deal, ladies,” the pretty one said, “The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything… What is it?”

Your eyebrows drew together, your back still turned to the group.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk,” a new voice chimed in. 

“What do they talk about?” the two boys said in unison.

It got a little harder to hear as one of the girls quieted her voice. “It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago. Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

‘Yeah, yeah, I already know that. They are way far behind me in the process.’

“Well, thank you for your time, ladies,” the voice of the taller one spoke amidst some rustling. You figured they were getting up to leave. 

You dropped a twenty on the table, let the door shut behind the group, and stood to follow the boys out. You hung back a little while you watched them head to their car. 

“I know you’re back there, sweetheart,” the pretty one called without turning around.

“I know you do. I was just testing you,” you said, walking closer. “Look, I’ve already got this one covered. You guys should find something else.”

“Not a chance,” the pretty boy replied. 

“Look, man—” you started. 

“We’re just looking for our dad,” the taller one cut you off. “We think he’s working this same job.”

“Wait, is your dad’s name John?” you asked, surprised. 

Both of them started toward you, their shock and confusion evident. “How do you—”

“Whoa, easy,” you giggled. “He was here a few days ago and then he just, pfft,” you imitated a puff of smoke, “disappeared.”

The pretty boy ran his hand through his hair, looking frustrated, while the taller guy continued talking to you. “Was he working with you?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, “we were kind of in an unspoken competition to see who could smoke this bitch first when he disappeared. And then, Troy ended up dead a day later. I thought maybe he was connected to Troy’s death some kind of way.”

“I don’t think so,” the taller one answered. “I’m Sam, by the way. This is my brother, Dean.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N),” you shook Sam’s hand. When you reached for Dean’s, though, he rolled his eyes at you without taking it. 

“Oh-kay,” you muttered. 

“Sorry about him,” Sam told you. “He’s—”

“A bit touchy?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed. 

“I can hear you two, y’know,” Dean snarked. 

“I know,” you quipped. “So, what’s your theory on your dad?”

“We have no idea,” Sam said. “We were hoping you might know.”

“I have nothing for you,” you shook your head. 

“Well, do you know anything about the case?” 

“A lot, actually. Chick’s name is Constance Welch. She’s a woman in white. She lives at the end of Breckenridge Road. I talked to her husband, and he definitely cheated on her. He buried her in a plot behind her house. I went there and torched her. I was just about to leave town when your dad disappeared, Troy wound up dead, and you two showed up.”

“Then, there’s gotta be something else keeping her here,” Sam told you.

“Okay, then what?”

***

“So this is where Constance took the swan dive,” Dean said. The three of you looked over the railing of the Centennial Highway Bridge. Sam had been nice enough to force his brother to let you tag along. 

“Okay, so now what?” Sam asked.

“Now we keep digging until we find Dad. Might take a while,” Dean responded.

“Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

“What’s Monday?” you asked. 

“I’ve got an interview with law school.”

“Oh, shit, no way!” you smiled. 

Sam smiled back at you before Dean cut in. “Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?”

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam cut back.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?”

“No, and she's not ever going to know.”

“Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean kept walking down the bridge. 

“And who's that?”

“You're one of us,” Dean said. 

Sam hurried around him. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

You felt really awkward doing what felt like intruding on a private moment. Your eyes began to scan the railing of the bridge opposite you.

“You have a responsibility to—”

Sam cut his brother off. “To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

You were doing your best not to listen in on their conversation when Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and shoved him against the bridge railing.

“Uh, guys—” you started, your eye caught by what looked like Constance standing on the railing of the bridge.

“Don't talk about her like that,” Dean grumbled at his brother; ignoring you.

“Guys!” 

“What?!” Dean turned to face you, stopping when he caught sight of Constance. Constance then stepped off the railing. 

The three of you broke off in a sprint toward the spot she’d leapt off. You searched the water below. “Where'd she go?”

“No idea,” Dean answered. 

Your visual search was interrupted by a bright light coming on in the corner of your eye. Dean’s Impala’s headlights. 

“What the fuck—” Dean trailed off.

“Who's driving your car?” you asked him. 

He responded by pulling the keys out of his pocket and jingling them. 

“Oh.”

The car jerked to life, heading straight for you and the boys. You broke into a sprint yet again, doing your best to outrun the car; a task that proved impossible. 

“Jump!” you screamed, and the three of you threw yourselves over the side of the bridge. You thankfully caught a bit of the bridge that jutted out over the water and pulled yourself back up, groaning.

‘My arm’s gonna be sore as a bitch in the morning.’

“Dean?” Sam yelled down to the water below. “Dean!”

“What?” came his aggravated response. 

You looked down to see a mud-covered Dean crawling out of the water. You couldn’t hold back a laugh upon seeing him.

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he called up to you.

“My name’s (Y/N),” you answered. “Don’t call me sweetheart. It weirds me out.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

“Guys, you can argue later. You okay?” Sam called down to Dean.

“I’m super,” his brother responded.

You and Sam climbed back over the railing of the bridge while Dean made his way up to you. The car had stopped only a few inches from where the three of you dove over. Dean busied himself inspecting the engine while you sat with your back leaned against the passenger’s side door. 

“Your car okay?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now.” Dean shut the hood. “That Constance chick, what a bitch!”

You chuckled to yourself at his antics. “Alright, well, I don’t think the bridge is what’s tying her here. What now?”

Dean raised his hands in frustration, flicking mud off his hands in the process. 

Sam caught a whiff of his brother. “You smell like a toilet.”

***

Your next stop was a motel. When you went to check in, the clerk informed Dean that another man under the last name on Dean’s card had bought out a room for the whole month. And so, you and the boys went poking around John’s room. 

Every surface was covered in newspaper clippings, magazine articles, photos, hastily scribbled notes, and bits of red tape tying some of them together. 

“I knew John was weird, but this is a whole new level,” you commented, slightly in awe of the frantic scribblings covering the wall. 

‘'Don’t talk about him like that,” Dean grumbled. “I'm gonna get cleaned up.” He started toward the shower. 

“Hey, Dean?” Sam stopped him.

His brother turned around. 

“What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry—”

Dean held up a hand, cutting him off. “No chick-flick moments.”

Sam laughed. “Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“You guys are strange.”

Dean rolled his eyes at you before disappearing into the bathroom. 

You started looking around John’s room. A closer look at the walls of information revealed pages on demons, witches, possession, and other bits of newspaper referring to mysterious deaths unlike anything you’d heard before. One was an obituary clipping from 1983; taking you aback. The picture was of a gorgeous blonde woman named Mary Winchester who died in a house fire. Her picture was surrounded by other house fire deaths and linked by red thread to multiple of the demon and witch articles. You walked over to his dresser where there was a picture of a much younger John holding two boys who you assumed were Sam and Dean. 

“You guys were cute kids,” you told Sam, showing him the picture.

He smiled sadly at it. 

After a brief melancholy pause, you spoke up. “So, what’s your deal? College? Law school? Part-time hunter? That doesn’t add up.”

“My, uh, my dad raised us as hunters after my mom passed,” he explained. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him, sitting on the bed next to him. “Was her death the reason your dad became a hunter?”

“Yeah. I’m not exactly sure what happened; I wasn’t even a year old yet. Dean remembers way more than I do, but he said our dad was never the same. Anyway, two years ago, dad and I got into a fight. I wanted to go to school, and he wanted me to stay and hunt. So I left.”

“Dean said you got a girl now? Was that the voicemail you were listening to a few minutes ago?”

“Yeah, actually. Jess. She’s— she’s amazing. I’m excited to get back to her.” You could see how much he loved her just in how his face lit up talking about her.

“I’m sure you are,” you smiled. 

“So, what about you? What’s your story?” he nudged your shoulder with his. 

“Meh, not much to tell.”

“Aw, come on—” Sam rebutted. 

“I’m serious!” you laughed. “I’ve just always hunted. Never knew anything different.”

“I know that’s difficult.” His tone became serious again. 

“Nah, it’s not so bad. I enjoy it. Brings me a little peace, y’know?” you shrugged.

“You sound like Dean.”

“Speaking of which, he’s taking forever and a day in the shower,” you joked. You bounced over to the bathroom door, leaning your ear on it about to knock. “Hey, princess—” 

You were cut off by the door opening and stumbled into Dean’s chest. 

He caught you by the shoulders. “You were saying?” 

You shoved off him, annoyed by his smug smile and quirked eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“Anyway,” Dean began, “I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?”

“No,” Sam said.

“A burger would be great,” you told him. 

“Wasn’t asking you,” Dean said. 

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Aframian’s buying, anyway, so what difference is it to you?”

“Nothing, it’s just fun to rile you up.” He winked and smiled at you, amused at your aggravated expression before closing the door behind him. 

You shook your head. “Dick.”

Sam laughed. “You get used to him.” He went back to his phone, relistening to his girlfriend’s voicemail. He furrowed his brows before pressing it to his ear. “What?” He stands up, catching your attention. “What about you?” He huffed when he hung up the phone, rushing over to the closed curtains to peek out. 

“What, what is it?” You crossed your arms.

“Police got Dean. We need to leave.”

“Shit.”

Sam quickly pulled away from the window which you understood meant you had company. You hid under the bed, anxiously waiting to see the officer’s boots make their way into the bathroom. You began scooching yourself out from under the bed frame, and when he’d slammed the door to the bathroom open, you and Sam snuck out of the room. Thankfully, Sam had Dean’s keys, and the two of you sped away from the motel in Dean’s Impala.

“Well, shit,” you breathed, your heart still beating quickly.

Sam huffed out a laugh, still recovering from the adrenaline.

***

You and Sam were headed to Breckenridge Road to hopefully figure out how to stop Constance. Since you had torched the body, then maybe something in her house was keeping her alive. 

After Dean’s arrest, the two of you were intent on getting Dean and getting the hell out of Jericho before anyone else had a run-in with the cops. 

Sam’s phone rang, and he answered quickly. “Hello?” He tossed a look your way. “Actually, it was (Y/N)’s idea.” You had no doubt he was referring to the fake shooting you’d called in to the police department so Dean had an opportunity to escape. You motioned for him to give you the phone.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” you told him once you had the phone to your ear. 

“Yeah, whatever, sweetheart,” Dean’s gruff voice responded.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“And I’ve made it pretty clear I’m not going to listen. Hey, give the phone back to Sam. I gotta talk to him.”

“And why can’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me? I’m offended, babe,” you quipped. 

“Don’t objectify me.”

“Hey, you started it with the whole ‘sweetheart’ thing.”

“C’mon, (Y/N), give him the—”

“Shit!” you screamed, dropping the phone as the car came to a screeching halt. “What the hell, Sam?”

“Constance,” he replied coolly. He kept a level head despite the tense situation. 

You looked up at the rearview mirror to see her in the backseat. “Fuck.” 

Constance’s hauntingly beautiful voice melodically flowed from the backseat. “Take me home.”

“No,” Sam answered. 

You saw her glare as the doors started to lock themselves. You whipped around to start trying to reopen them. The car began jerking forward. 

“What the hell, Sam? Stop!” you told him. 

“It’s not me.”

You looked over to see him holding his hands up. The steering wheel was moving itself. You turned back to the door, struggling to get the lock open. Eventually, you wound up at Constance’s abandoned Breckenridge Road house. The car’s rumble quieted and the headlights turned off. 

“Don't do this,” Sam pleaded, still holding his hands up. 

The ghost flickered, sounding sad. “I can never go home.”

‘That’s it.’

“You're scared to go home,” you realized. When you turned around to look at her, she had disappeared. Before you could even turn back around, you felt the bench seat reclining forcefully. 

“Sam!” 

Constance sat atop him, begging him to hold her. 

“You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!”

“You will be,” she hummed. “Just hold me.”

You fumbled for your gun hidden under your top. Before you could fully aim at her, you felt your back make brief contact with the Impala’s door before flying through the air. You barely registered Sam yelling your name as you groaned in pain on the dead grass beneath you. 

You rolled around, trying to regain your wits and recover when you heard the sound of multiple gunshots. 

“Sam!”

“It’s me, (Y/N), stay down!” Dean yelled. 

Suddenly, Dean’s car burst through the front of the abandoned house. You pushed yourself up off the ground; your joints and back aching in protest. 

“Sam! Sam! You okay?” Dean called after the car. 

‘I’m fine, Dean, thanks for asking,’ you thought. 

The two of you climbed over the rubble to the passenger’s side window. 

“I think,” Sam responded weakly. 

“Can you move?” you asked.

“Yeah. Help me?” He reached out to his brother. 

Dean pulled Sam through the window of the car. “There you go.”

You turned to see Constance looking sadly at a picture she was holding before slamming it to the floor. She glared at the three of you harshly, forcing a bureau across the floor to pin you to Dean’s car. 

You groaned in pain once again as Dean struggled to push the furniture off. You stopped your struggle at the lights flickering and the sound of water rushing down the stairs. 

“You've come home to us, Mommy,” the echoey voices of Constance’s children sang. They appeared behind her, hugging her as she screamed. In a surge of energy, Constance and her children began melting to the floor. Constance’s resounding scream seemed to get louder and louder with each passing moment, the flickering of the lights becoming more and more intense. You squeezed your eyes shut until the screaming subsided, suddenly feeling the pressure on your stomach relieved. All that was left of Constance and her children was a puddle of murky water on the floor. 

“So this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean said while you rubbed your stomach, recovering from the pressure of the bureau. 

Sam nodded. “That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slapped his brother on the chest where he’d been injured by Constance.

Sam laughed despite the pain. “Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?”

“Hey. Saved your ass,” Dean commented, starting to look over his beloved Impala. “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car? I'll kill you.” 

You giggled at Sam and Dean’s banter. Sam and Dean started to get back into the car, and you idled awkwardly. 

“Whatcha doin’? Let’s go.” Sam looked at you expectantly. 

“Go where?” you asked, feeling stupid. 

“I think we make a pretty solid team. You should tag along.”

“What?” Dean asked while you started shaking your head. 

“No, no, I shouldn’t—” 

“You should. I’m going back to school, and I know Dean’s gonna be lost without me trying to find my dad.”

A slow smile crossed your face. “Thank you. That’d be nice, actually.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything to the contrary. And with that, the three of you set off to drop Sam back off at college. 

***

The thing Dean so desperately wanted to tell Sam that he couldn’t tell you earlier was that his dad had left coordinates to a place called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado in the journal he’d left behind in Jericho. John was getting weirder and weirder by the minute. 

“AC/DC. I like it,” you said from the backseat. 

“Thanks.” Dean cracked what seemed like a genuine, lopsided smile at you for the first time in the rearview mirror. “Sam thinks it’s mullet rock.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better than Kiss and Poison.”

“True that.” Despite the fact that he was agreeing with you about something as mundane as music, his tone was still guarded.

“How far is Blackwater Ridge?” you asked Sam, who was looking over a map. 

“About 600 miles,” he answered.

“Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning,” Dean cut in. 

Sam suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Dean, I, um…”

The older brother deflated. “You're not going.”

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam tried to reason.

Dean nodded, disappointed, and returned his attention to the road. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.”

The mood in the car had turned tense, awkward, and sour, and remained that way for the rest of the drive back to Sam’s college.

“Dude, you go to Stanford?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” he nodded, sheepishly.

“Alright, smartass, look at you.” You nudged his shoulder with your balled fist. 

Dean rolled to a stop in front of Sam’s apartment complex. 

You and Sam got out of the car. You gave him a quick hug goodbye before climbing down into the front seat. 

Sam leaned into your rolled-down window. “Call me if you find him?”

Dean nodded. 

“And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

Despite Sam’s chipper tone, Dean’s disappointment was clear. “Yeah, all right.”

Sam patted the car door twice before turning away. 

“Sam?” Dean called before his brother could get too far. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.” 

You felt a pang in your heart at Dean’s indirect attempt to try to convince Sam to stay. 

Sam nodded with a half-hearted smile. “Yeah.” 

Dean then began to drive off. 

The two of you didn’t get any more than five minutes down the road before you felt something was off. You could no longer hear the steady ticking of Dean’s watch breaking through the almost awkward silence. Sure enough, when you looked over at the wrist he had perched atop the steering wheel, the watch was stopped. 

“Dean,” you said. You tapped his watch’s face with your fingernail. 

He matched your worried glance, immediately turning the car around.

The car had barely stopped before you and Dean were leaping into action. You let Dean take the lead in rushing up to Sam’s apartment. 

Dean kicked the door to the apartment open, calling out to his brother in the process. You gasped when you caught sight of flames licking at the ceiling coming out from what you assumed was Sam’s bedroom. 

You heard Sam’s voice weakly calling his girlfriend’s name as you rushed to get him out of the smoldering room. You just barely caught sight of a body bleeding from the stomach burning on the ceiling before you and Dean dragged a screaming Sam out of his bedroom and away from the fire. You fought him every step of the way out of his apartment complex. 

It didn’t take long for the fire department to show up and the police to start asking questions. A small crowd had gathered to gawk at Sam’s smoldering apartment. Your face was steely as you watched the firefighters carry Jess out in a body bag. You and Dean took the brunt of the questions the police had, allowing Sam as much space as he needed. 

You and Dean soon headed over to the Impala where Sam was packing up the weapons cavity of the trunk. Both of you seemed too scared to ask Sam what was running through his head, and neither of you had any idea what to say. 

Sam threw a shotgun into the weapons box before muttering, “We got work to do,” and slamming the trunk shut.

You threw a look at Dean, who shook his head in response. Biting the inside of your cheek, you followed the boys into the car. As the three of you left Sam’s apartment in the rearview mirror, you realized the course of your formerly relatively boring life was changing very quickly. 

‘Damn you, John. Wherever you are.’