#freaky ass numbers

[shmekk]

I love 24 it's so funny

[revehae]

we need to kill everyone at sm entertainment

[5-htagonist]

i am genuinely so crazyyyy about lbruuuuu.... like Genuinely Genuinely. its pretty bad guise

[madamechrissy]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Satoru Gojo Oneshots ˚୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Drabbles Masterlist for oneshots under 5k are HERE

I wanna be Yours - Explicit- 5.3k wc -Satoru Gojo has been your best friend since middle school, you've been in love with him that long, but he is clueless! Can you all stay just friends??- friends to lovers smut

Forgive me for I have Sinned - Explicit- 5.7k wc- You keep having dreams about Father Gojo, and he decides to try to save your slutty soul! Freaky ass Priest gojo- sacriligeous af, meant for sinners <3

Duvet Days and Vanilla Ice cream - Explicit- 15k wc Satoru has tried five different times over the years to tell you he loves you, but the words just never came out right, and you would never believe it. Cute/sexy and emotional Christmas fic- 5+1

You Got me thinking Nonsense- Explicit- 11.5k wc You're Suguru's lil sis, which means you've dealt with both him and his best friend Satoru Gojo being overprotective little shits for most your life. You've also been in love with Satoru Gojo that long. Will he see you as anything more? - smutty/fun (pt 2 coming soon)

Do I wanna Know? - explicit- 9k wc Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Is he a Stalker!? Yandere, heavy smut, read the warnings

Baptise in Your Thighs Till it Hurts - NSFW- 5k wc- Satoru AND Sukuna are CEOs, you're a barista. They hire you to strip for them on Christmas Eve... somehow you end up tied up in Christmas lights!?!? (Wild threesome smut lol)

I'll look After You - 10.6 wc-NSFW- You longed to hear from Satoru, After an epic night hooking up in a club bathroom, sure you'd been strangers, but he has your number, he made you feel so special... but... he never contacts you again. Ten months later, you have a beautiful baby named Reign, with those exact blue eyes- FLUFFY.

[awwitschuu]

IN CLOSE PROXIMITY

☆*:.｡ attending high profile auctions meant you had to look the part, sylus made sure of that, adorning your body in nothing but luxurious accessories and the finest fabrics. but he can’t help but lose himself at the way one particular gown accentuates the dips and curves of your body…

notes from chuu: a special thank you to @zehrbear for helping a sister out when i was stumped and for beta reading!! 🥹 wc is about 1.6k

cw: plus sized f!reader, slight mention of insecurity (very small!), praise, groping, breast play, finger sucking, oral (f-> receiving!), fingering, public indecency (yall get freaky in the fitting room), sylus calls reader sweetie and kitten, mentions of backshots MDNI!! BLANK/ AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED <3

why sylus chose to bring you to an uppity high end boutique with the world’s smallest fitting room was beyond you, the shimmery fuschia drapes and curtains that served as a source of entry and exit the only thing providing any kind of privacy. your fingers run along the material of the bougie drapes. they’re surprisingly thick, muffling the atmosphere of friendly sales associates attending to wealthy clients.

you turn to look at yourself in the full size mirror, examining the dress that sylus picked out for you. it fit perfectly, a little too perfectly. the silk iridescent fabric as gorgeous as midnight accentuated every curve and dip of your frame. the built-in padded support had your breasts sitting like never before. you were stunned, worried that this dress was a bit too much. you needed a second opinion, one that wouldn’t sell you a smile and false compliments so you could buy a dress.

you needed sylus, as much as you hated to admit.

you poke your head out from the curtain and scan the area to find the tall silver haired devil being gawked at by others, the hearts in their pupils clear as day. “psst hey! the dress is on… c’mere.” you pout as he smirks at you, slipping away once you call his attention. he walks into the fitting area and finds you examining yourself in the mirror, turning and posing to really get a good look at the dress.

“okay what do you think? is it too much? i kind of like the color and how it shimmers when i move but… i don’t know. it kind of feels a little too form fitting? like-” as you continue to ramble on and worry yourself, you don’t notice the way sylus looks at you. he’s slack jawed, admiring your beauty from head to toe, shamelessly leering at the fullness of your plush hips and the swell of your ass. as you continue on rambling, you’re soon shushed by the overwhelming sound of loafers hitting the wood stained floor. it’s not long before sylus’ intimidating stature is right behind you.

“do you really want to know what i think, sweetie?” he purrs, his large hands finding your hips as he meets your gaze in the mirror. there’s a heaviness on your chest, heat slightly spreading through the apples of your you cheeks as his lidded eyes stare daggers into you. “well that’s why i called you in here.” your attempt at being snarky fails to dissipate the rising tension in this crowded space you find yourself in, the smell of his mahogany cologne infiltrating your senses with each breath. the onichynus leader’s nimble thumbs press into you, his hands massaging your hips ever so slowly.

“i think,” he crouches down slightly as his lips brush against the shell of your ear, “you look sexy in this little number. don’t you agree?” your eyes widen at his confession, ready to jump from him but he pulls you flush to his chest. “it’s a nice dress but i’m not the one up for auction! don't you think it’s a little…i don’t know…” your hand brushes over your stomach, your gaze avoiding the reflection before you. it’s a slight insecurity that comes in waves, you don’t voice it but sylus notices. his hands slide from your hips to your tummy, the purr in his voice deepens and reverbates in his throat as he feels the softness of your plush body.

“as i said…sexy.” he groans, biting the soft cartilage of your ear, “all of you.”

a shocked gasp tinged with excitement leaves your lips as you feel his large hands eclipse your hips, massaging into your doughy skin and pulling you into his embrace. “i think you’d make quite the commotion tonight, yeah?” he coos, littering kisses along the length of your neck. “you see the effect you have on me now, i can’t keep my hands off you, sweetie.” before you can swat him away, he finds your breasts, warm palms groping and massaging the pillowy flesh as he litters wet kisses along the length of your neck .

sylus is trying to keep his composure but one glance at your reflection has his restraint snapping one thread at a time. you smell so sweet and feel so good beneath his fingertips. the way you crumble and come undone with every fiery touch, the way your glossed lips quiver when he starts to tug and pinch your nipples. god he could take you right now…

your body is overwhelmed with pleasure, it’s hard to keep quiet as he toys with you like this, heat pooling in the pit of your tummy as you whimper and whine from the stimulation. “s-sylus please,” you try to whisper but you fail miserably, your voice is shaky and can barely form with out faltering. he rests his head on your shoulder and watches you intently, his slender fingers snaking to the hem of the dress and hiking it up. he’s surprised to find that you aren’t wearing panties, it makes things easier for him at least. “i think this dress is perfect, kitten. not only is it stunning on you but it grants me easy access to those luscious thighs and that gorgeous pussy.”

sylus’ fingers gravitate towards your soaked cunt, his glare never breaking eye contact with yours in the mirror as he finds your clit. he knows you’re a bit of a moaner and while he would want nothing more than to hear your pleasure filled cries, you are in public and have to have some kind of decency. “open.” he purrs as his fingers press against your pretty lips and you open obediently, sucking on his index and middle to prevent yourself from garnering any unwanted attention. he smirks and continues rubbing circles into you, slick collecting on his finger and coating your folds.

you never thought you’d end up in this kind of compromising position when you first came here, legs spread in a tiny fitting room while the leader of such a dangerous organization as onichynus sank his fingers deeper and deeper into your aching heat. a part of you wishes you had a little more restraint but god he knows how to break you down until you’re pliant and needy for his touch. you suck him in beautifully, his digits drenched in your arousal as they massage and curl against your sweet spot. you accidentally bite down on his finger as you reach your high, your ass grinding against the seat of his pants when-

“excuse me miss!”

your heart drops, realization kicking in that you are in fact still at the bougie high end boutique and shouldn’t be doing this. as you try to pull away sylus tugs you back, continuing you to pump his fingers in and out of you. you’re feeling a mix of disbelief and pleasure, the smirk on his face very telling. “well aren’t you going to answer her, miss?” he starts thumbing at your clit to egg you on, your legs trembling at the stimulation.

“are you alright in there? it’s been a while…” the associate’s concerned voice is all you can hear. you pull sylus’ fingers from your mouth and walk over to speak with the woman. you slowly pop your head out of the curtains to be greeted by a woman that looks to be in her late fifties made evident by the silver skunk stripe in her updo. “hi! sorry to worry you but i’m alright” you smile as you try to make things quick so she can leave but she continues. “i just wanted to make sure, if you have anything else you’d like to try on please come find me and i’ll be happy to help! we have an amazing sale going on right now just in time for the holiday season,”

you continue to smile and nod as she rambles on but you can’t help but feel an overwhelming presence behind you in the fitting area. you hope it’s not what you think it is, you pray he would have some kind of decorum, but this is sylus we’re talking about. you can feel him gripping your ass and his warm wet tongue lapping at your pussy, licking your puffy folds like an animal starved. your legs buckle and you try to keep from dropping to your knees as he sucks and slurps on your pussy from the back.

you’re going to kill him, you swear you’re going to kill him, but right now you’re aching. you can’t help but imagine him fucking you into his mattress, your back arched as you take every delicious inch of his cock. hitting so deep that you help but squeal his name and cream on it over and over. your pussy flutters at the thought, that knot inside of you tightens with each lick of his tongue until you finally come undone, your composure slightly lost as you muffle your moans into the curtain under the disguise of a bad cough.

“and by signing up for our special rewards program your first purchase is discounted! let me know when you’re ready!” the woman walks away unaware of what the two of you were doing. you turn around, chest heaving as you glare at the silver haired man. “oops, i wanted a little taste and got a bit carried away. just too good to resist.” you slip the dress off and try to pull yourself together, taking a wipe from your purse to clean yourself up. you can’t believe the two of you did something so indecent, although it was admittedly thrilling in the moment, the rush of adrenaline still pulsing through you. you fix your hair and straighten your skirt, you then fix sylus’ collar for him and align his buttons so they aren’t so out of place.

“you owe me, jerk!” you pout, stomping away as you exit the fitting area. sylus can’t help but chuckle, he’ll make sure to let you take his platinum card so you can shop to your hearts content as an apology. but in regards to that auction he’ll have to take a rain check, the strain in his pants definitely will need to be attended to.

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆thank you for reading! if you enjoyed feel free to like, reblog and or comment! send an ask if you want, i don’t bite :3!

[reareaotaku]

Prank Call

Summary: You keep getting Calls from what you can only assume is a prankster Characters: Yandere! Billy Loomis x Fem! Reader Tw: Pank calls, Horror

"And now, bend over like this. Stretch out those muscles-"

There's a loud ringing noise, causing you to groan. "Steve, can you get the phone!"

You hear a whine, but ultimately the ringing stops.

"Hello?"

There's some chatter, but you weren't listening. You pulled up your leg towards your chest, as the video instructed.

"Y/n?"

You turn towards your brother, who was holding out the phone towards you. "What?"

"It's for you. If you knew your boyfriend was calling, why would you have me answer the phone?"

"Boyfriend?" You grab the phone from your braindead brother, "Hello?"

"Hello."

You didn't recognize the voice. It was deep and scratchy with a pitch of tone. "Do I know you?"

"You don't know your boyfriend's voice?" There's a chuckle and you can practically hear the smirk. "What's your favorite horror movie?"

You look towards the tv, where the yoga instructor was now in the doggy position, ass up high and sharp edged.

"I don't know. I don't watch much horror."

"Oh, come on, N/n, everyone has a favorite horror movie."

You roll your eyes, sighing deeply, "Hellraiser... I guess?"

"You don't seem like a Hellraiser kind of girl."

"That's the one with the Pinhead guy, right?"

"Yes-"

"Pretty freaky. If that's all, I have to go."

Before the caller could respond, you hung up the phone. It started to ring again, but you went back to your yoga video.

-----

You slam your locker, your brother leaning on the locker next to you, Casey wrapped around his arm.

"And we're planning to go to her house-"

You ignored him, feeling eyes on you. You looked around before spotting the one looking at you, Billy. Billy was a strange guy- Not in a good way. He was your number one suspect of the guy who called...

Though, you doubted he really knew anything about you, so you doubted he'd go out of his way to mess with you.

----

You hum to yourself as you do the dishes. You were alone at home, thankfully. You liked being home alone, because there was no messes made by your disgusting brother and it was quiet.

Ring. Ring.

Scratch that. You groan as you pick up the phone and get annoyed.

"Hello?"

"Y/n, how are you this fine evening?"

You groaned when hearing the familiar voice. "Oh, fuck off you punk and leave me alone."

"Oh, that's no way for a lady to talk."

"Fuck you-"

"If you hang up that phone, I'll kill your brother!"

You stop when hearing muffled screaming. "What do you want?"

"Oh, now you want to play nice? Hmmm... I want to play a game."

[et6rnalsun]

LET ‘EM KNOW, chris sturn

𝜗𝜚 pairing: chris sturn x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up) literally js sex, chris being rough as always, slightly toxic! reader & toxic! chris

posted this cuz i needed to post something so here u go sum freaky smut. there’s a small time skip directly to the sex, hope it’s clear

your relationship with chris was complicated — and it couldn't even be called that.

something unfinished, that neither of you wanted to end. something that you had to let go but were too attached and dependent to the toxicity of the entire thing. you fucked, argued, argued while you fucked. it was a cycle that repeated itself, threats of never seeing each other again and then ending up in each other's bed with sinful moans escaping from swollen lips.

you weren't a jealous person, never been, especially towards him. you knew perfectly well he fucked other girls and pride ate you up completely before you could make a scene or something. but there was one of his hoes in particular, who made your hands tingle with the desire to beat her ass, that kept hanging around on him as if he was hers.

you fought the urge to nibble on your freshly manicured nails as you stared at that photo posted on his instagram story, their faces too close for your liking, clearly laying in his bed. so, you didn't think twice before clicking on his number, calling him. you waited one ring, two rings, and at the third he finally answered, his raspy voice saying your name slurredly.

"can you come over?" you asked shortly, getting straight to the point as you sat on the edge of your bed. chris sighed, knowing where you were going with this. "i'm busy right now, i think you know that"

"do you think i care? drop this bitch, chris, we both know you're dying to come here anyway" you huffed, not caring in the slightest that maybe you sounded too cocky. then your voice took on a more pleading tone, trying to get to him. "please, i need you. i’m not even kidding"

you could practically hear him wavering, his silence the answer you needed while you were already smiling in victory. "i'm coming. i fucking hate you" and hang up.

you then stood up, walking to the bathroom as you changed out of your underwear into his favorite thong, a smirk on your glossy lips the whole time. you had won, as always. you had confirmed that chris couldn't even resist you and your sweet voice of yours that begged him so subtly.

you didn't care if you sounded pathetic, or if you wouldn't do it for any other man anyway. you wanted him and had him again.

and then you didn't care even more as your fingers continued to pull the long curls of his hair to draw him closer to your neck, already tortured by marks and hickeys. your other hand gripping the crumpled sheets of your bed due to the inhuman rhythm of his thrusts. your moans were like music to his ears, especially after not hearing them for so long.

the tight, pink thong you had worn a few minutes before his arrival had been thrown to the floor without the slightest importance or care, like the rest of your clothes, only that one had been completely torn by chris's fucking impatient hands.

“you're such a needy slut,” he murmured through gritted teeth, one of his hands resting on your neck to keep you still. "you couldn't stand the fact that i was with someone else, huh? admit it" to those last words he added a thrust that hit right in that sweet spot, making you whimper.

“shut the fuck up” you managed to breathe out, your thighs tightening around him as you were desperate to reach your orgasm. "you didn't even - ah- didn't even hesitate to come here, didn’t you?”

he tightened his grip on your neck, lifting one of your thighs onto his shoulder with his other hand as he groaned. "fuck you" small beads of sweat had formed on his forehead at that point. “no one, no one has a pussy as fucking tight as yours” he felt like your walls were about to snap him in half, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. "you drive me so crazy"

your moans had increased, feeling that pressure starting to persist more and more. “admit it” you whimpered, your long nails scratching his back as your arched yours slightly in pleasure. "admit that no one is like me"

his lips had found your bare shoulder, his teeth digging and biting into the sensitive skin as he whispered and moaned shamelessly into it. "no one makes me feel like you do, ma, i would gladly die inside this pussy if i could."

and you're cumming around him the minute the words leave his lips.

[imtomiee]

Lets rank the fyne shyt (the busans) 🤞

Number one fine guy (im writing their long ass names in your dreams no way)

AHHH 😝😝😝😝😝😝😝🤞

9/10 no explanation needed

And the crowd goeeees- hold on is that jackie? (The ansan goofy)

All and all cute but eh...a good 6-7/10

Yall gon judge me but i got taejin war flashbacks cause he looks similar idk how to explain it....though the body ATTEEEEEE bro is SHREDDEDDDD...5/10 for the moosle and joker scar he looks a bit too bland needs drip

AHHHHHHH 😝😝😝😝😝😝😝😝😝🤞²

Fine ass easy 9/10 love the bicep tattoo and his style pop off chrome hearts king

Told my bae that he looks like chill guys face guys ong...seems pretty cool tho 6/10

BONUSS🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

This freaky fine mf...10/10 im investing in him...but i got one question....why...why he got the kanye grillz 🤨

Now all and all loved the chapter and the storline is awsommmme im definitely waiting to see each ones fighting style more hyped for that and they all have potential

[kisses4tom]

i don’t know if your request are open but i just wanna ask, can you do a headcanon of tom x model!reader. like the readers on vogue or she models for lingerie

ᡣ𐭩 TOM WITH A MODEL GIRLFRIEND

───────────────

omg i love this requesttt 😭 i hope you like it! and sorry for disappearing but school is slowly killing me 😻💕

───────────────

oh boy he's OBSESSED with you

always buying your magazines

would hang up posters of you on his wall

loves to attend your catwalks and is the loudest in the crowd for you

he pretty much doesn't pay attention to the other models, he's just waiting for you

he's literally Dylan Sprouse (iykyk, a whole ass green forest)

istg he would look at you like this

he's would uhm...please himself with pictures of you...

LOVES to take photos of you

and also likes to exchange photos 😀iykwim (freaky ahh)

let's just say he's very pleased with your body type since you're a model and he's really into curves and stuff like that (idk how to word it but if you've seen some of his interviews you probably understand)

makes sure everyone knows you're his

you have a lot of public appeal so he's both jealous and worried people would go too far

makes sure you don't turn your job into something toxic

LOVES when you model for lingerie, but only when he gets the photos lmfao

he's kind of jealous ofc

likes to surprise and visit you during fittings and photoshoots

obviously you also attend a bunch of his concerts, and he's more than happy to see you in the crowd

always locking eyes and getting nervous/shy to the point he has to look away and focus on his guitar 🤭

Bill obviously likes to tease him with: "excuse my brother, he's very busy looking in that particular direction!"

loves when you run backstage into his arms after (especially because you don't care if he's as sweaty as a dog)

I'd say his pda level is a 6-7/10, but if he's a little jealous (doesn't matter the reason) he's a solid 8-9/10

In his eyes you're the goddess of beauty (which you are pookie! 🤭💞)

Since he's so obsessed with you, he probably makes sure to please you most in bed

he's not really into dirty talking, but he definitely gives you some words of appreciation like "you're so fucking pretty", "you're perfect", "i'm so lucky", "this is all for me, right?"

Because of tour and different schedules, sometimes you're apart for a long time. But he never misses a chance to call and Skype you whenever he can!

he's so proud that you're his girl

Flirts with you 24/7

He would remind you everyday not to listen to the obsessed fans who give you hate for being his girlfriend

He would do the thumb thingy when holding hands or cuddling

He would flip off the paparazzi if he catches them say something mean to/about you

sometimes he would disapprove of your dresses/clothes if they're too revealing

in conclusion, he's your number 1 fan 🥳

[sevikaswifefr]

Alone Time

pairing: abby anderson x female reader

warnings: mentions of sex

a/n: guys i’m sorry if my writing is still not it but can we just take a moment to admire the photo of her. THIS WOMAN IS BEAUTIFUL ^^ also feel free to send in TLOU requests (preferably abby, but i’ll answer all )

Last night was euphoric.

Abby and I hadn’t had alone time in what felt like forever. For the past month she had always been forced out on night patrol by Isaac or I had been thrown into the medical ward to administer treatments to those in need, thanks to Mel. So to have us both free for a night meant we had alooot of catching up to do…

Leading up to today.

My limbs are numb, exhausted thanks to Abby’s eagerness last night, my entire body feeling as if it had been lit on fire and left to burn.

However, apparently my girlfriend didn’t feel the same as I reach for her with my eyes closed only to be met with cold sheets. Instead, I hear her throat clearing on my opposite side causing my eyes to snap open.

Abby stands beside the bed, arms crossed over her body which is only covered by a sports bra and her underwear. All thoughts of sleep leave me as I admire her toned figure. “Hi baby.” I smile up at her, reaching a hand to touch her muscular thigh, my fingers gently tracing the purple marks left by yours truly.

“Don’t hi baby me. Look at what you did.” She frowns. Uncrossing her arms she gestures to her neck and collarbone, my hand slapping across my mouth at the sight. At least ten purple and red marks litter her neck, all dark and so large that Abby had no chance of hiding them. “I got a bit carried away.” I stifle a laugh. “Oh, yeah? Ok. Well that makes everything ok. You just got a bit carried away.” Abby retorts sarcastically rolling her eyes.

“You weren’t complaining last night.” I laugh sitting up in bed, glancing down at my naked torso. “And hey, look at me.” I point to my own hickies that are scattered over my stomach and chest. Abby smiles slightly, eyes wandering over her artwork. “Yeah well that can be hidden,” Abby gestures dramatically back to her neck. “Mine can’t.” She almost whines.

Throwing back the sheets, I step out of the bed gently pushing past my girlfriend who groans at my lack of attention as I pick up my discarded clothes and get dressed. “Everyone’s gonna tease the fuck out of me.” Her fingers drag down her face causing my eyes to roll playfully. “Who cares, they are just gonna be jealous you got fucked good and they didn’t.” I shrug tugging my shirt over my chest and grabbing my hair brush.

Silence ensues causing me to glance back over my shoulder seeing my girlfriend collapsed starfish like on her back, still half naked. “Abs, we gotta go if we wanna get breakfast in time.” Finishing with getting myself ready I head over to the bed, straddling Abby’s thighs, my hands holding onto her shoulders. “You’re so fucking dramatic.” I chuckle hearing her loud groan. “You wanted it, you initiated the sex.” I tease lowering myself so our noses brush.

Abby glares up at me with a slight pout. “And I loved it.” She sighs giving up. “Yeah, thats what I thought.” I playfully slap her chest before sliding off her. “Now get ready to go. I am craving a breakfast burrito.”

After ten more minutes of resistance from my girlfriend the two of us finally manage to leave our room.

Walking into the cafeteria, we head straight for our usual table with Nora, Leah, and Manny already sitting and eating together.

“Looks like someone had a good night.” Manny scoffs immediately as the two of us sit down. This causes the rest of the groups eyes to wander to us, most on Abby as they admire the bruises on her neck.

“Fuck off.” Abby laughs punching Manny’s shoulder beside her.

“God dam. Girl you look like you got your ass beat.” Leah whistles, sending a wink my way. “Yeah, holy fuck. I don’t think even Leah’s done that much of a number on Jordan and we all know how freaky that bitch is.” Nora laughs elbowing Leah who fakes mock offence.

Abby’s face becomes a freshly tinted red. “Oh please, you’re all just jealous you didn’t get shit last night.” I retort playfully. “Plus you should see the state of my-.” I get cut off by a a disgusted chorus of shouts from the rest of the group.

“Keep your details to yourself.” Manny scrunches his nose in disgust. I simply shrug sharing a look with Abby and taking a bite of my burrito.

“Oh Abby, you know you got patrol with Jordan and me today.” Leah’s mouth is half full as she talks, making the blonde chuckle. “Yeah I know, let’s try make it quick so we can get home before dark. Sleep sounds like my best friend at the moment.” Abby groans downing the rest of her burrito.

Leah gulps down the rest of her food before standing up, Abby following seconds behind. “I’ll try be home before dark baby.” Abby smiles gently cupping my face and pressing a kiss to my lips. I smile against her, nodding my head. “Be safe.” I wave to her as she follows Leah down the hall turning back to the others as we continue our breakfast conversations.

……..

The sun slowly fades, turning the view from my stadium window to from orange to black. Flicking on the bedroom lights I get comfortable on the couch with one of Abby’s books.

I only manage to get through a few pages before the door to the bedroom opens revealing a worn out Abby.

“Hi baby.” I smile placing the book down and opening my arms to her. She manages a small smile before collapsing on top of me, burying her face into my neck. “Mm so tired.” She whispers, her breath hot on my skin as she presses her face deeper into my body.

My hands rub her back, moving under her tank top to trace patterns on her skin. “I know pretty girl. It’s ok just rest now.” I reply pressing my lips to the top of her head. “Owen ended up coming on patrol with us. Isaac said we needed more hands or some shit.” She manages to whisper, her eyes closing. I frown at the thought of that asshole on patrol with my girl. “Did he do anything? I’ll go beat his ass.” I reply causing Abby to crack a smile. “Nah I just caught him staring like a deer in headlights at my neck a few times. Said something about you being feral and I yelled at him so don’t worry.” Her sentence is cut off with a yawn.

“Now that is a jealous man.” I scoff thinking of the stupid face he must’ve had. My hands gently play with the fly aways in Abby’s braid. “Well too bad for him, your mine now.” I grin pressing another kiss to her head.

“Hmm Abby?” I look down to see her lips slightly parted, eyes shut and breathing even out. She was out like a light.

[badbtssmut]

Cult 0T7 fic.

What happens when one’s sin is too big for the highest deity to forgive? Seven individuals who have committed the most hideous crimes, show up at your town; paying the holy leader of the cult heaps of money to have you cleanse them of their sins. Whatever happens in a cult, stays in a cult.

Contains: cult themes, public sex, rough sex, members fighting over who can fuck y/n first, members are driven crazy by lust, double penetration in pussy, triple penetration ass and pussy, double blowjob, attempt at trice blowjob but fails, riding, idk what else

Admin note: I deliberately kept any details and references to any religion as vague as possible.

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It was the last full moon of the month, a time for celebrating the harvest and honoring the God that you and the people you cherished worshipped religiously, night to day, day to night. A special night, as it was only on this night where mortals were granted forgiveness for sins that wouldn’t be excused by human beings; sins that were too vile for any mortal to overlook, but a sin that a God could forgive, so long as you repented.

So long as you repented…

…and had sexual intercourse on the last full moon of the month, a practice that all of you were willing to participate in. Word got around quick and sex tourists desperately tried to participate, but your town shouldn’t be seen as some sort of sex theme park. No, this was a sacred ritual that you and the other people in the town participated in, to the point where you all saw it as an act of tradition without batting an eye at the freakiness of it all.

The head of the cult would never steer you wrong, he knew what was best for the town.

“Seven individuals have come to partake in our tradition tonight.” The wise man spoke, a smile plastered on his face. “We know that seven is a sacred number, don’t we? This cannot be a coincidence! It is the will of the Gods that this will be done. Our town will prosper, I assure you all of this.” He spoke to the crowd, his eyes gleaming in the light of the candle and fire.

He looked back at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ready, my child?” He led you to the hot springs. “The Gods will surely be pleased with this outcome, as will we all be once the harvest is bountiful in our town.”

You were more than ready to go through with this, the Gods would bless the town.

You left the man behind as you were welcomed by the two elder sisters who prepared you for the tradition; scrubbing your body, soaping it, and then softening your skin with a blend of almond and coconut oil. Your hair was dried before they wrapped the silk robe around you, a hug and a kiss on the cheek given by one of the two, before you walked off and made your way to where the tradition would take place.

There was an open space in the far back of the town; far enough to scare off tourists but near enough for interested townspeople to come and have a look. It was surrounded by torches and candles, an altar placed at the center of the open area, decorated with roses, lilies, and daisies. A swing hung from a tree, a bed of soft furs and blankets a few feet from the swing, and water flowing nearby.

Seven wooden chairs were lined up in front of the altar, each seat occupied by seven strangers, before you could have a closer look, the leader of the cult spoke up.

“Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok, Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook, you are all welcome here.” The man glanced over to the crowd before looking back at the men. “May the Gods be gracious to us all, for we are all pure-hearted, and our intentions are true and good, we come together for one goal and one goal only: the will of the Gods!” The audience clapped, some of the older ones praying under their breath.

You sat on the furs, the silk robe still on, and you watched the seven men walk down the path that the people created for them. It wasn’t something you’d normally think about, but you couldn’t help but notice how handsome each of them were, every man holding a unique feature that made you stare.

You laid back on the furs, a pillow under your head, and waited, watching as they undressed themselves and like a pack of wild animals, they pounced on you. Hands roamed all over your body, fingers pinching and twisting your nipples, fingers rubbed your clit, lips sucked at your neck, hands caressed your thighs, tips were pushed at your entrance before you were forcibly pulled back by another member who was eager to fuck you first.

They argued, they bickered, they fought, they shoved each other, your body bounced back and forth as they wrestled and tried to pull you into their arms, Yoongi grabbed hold of you and dragged you across the furs and blankets, before the rest of the men piled on top of you, two cocks pushed into your mouth while another cock rubbed against your face.

You looked up to see that the three cocks belonged to Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin. In your left hand, you held Namjoon’s cock, while your right hand held Hoseok’s cock. There were so many cocks that you were starting to lose count.

You felt Yoongi’s tip push in before it was abruptly pushed away by Seokjin’s tip, their cocks pushing and rubbing against each other before both slid into your pussy. You let out a gasp, mouth wide open, cocks slipping out, before they were hastily pushed back into your mouth. The two men inside of you fucked you in tandem, their cocks brushing against each other.

You took shaky breaths through your nose, focusing on sucking their cocks, while also focusing on rubbing the cocks that you held in your hands. Seokjin held onto your hips while Yoongi’s fingers dug into your ass, them both pushing you back and forth on their cocks, bouncing you back and forth. Taehyung who was rubbing his cock against your face, felt himself grow impatient, and pushed himself into your mouth, but when he realized it wouldn’t fit, he pulled back out.

The citizens watched, some bursting into tears, others clapping, a few cheering, the majority chanting and praying, but they were all proud of the ritual being carried out so far. They’d make sure to praise you after you’re done, bring you gifts and your favorite treats as a reward for your outstanding work.

You felt Seokjin’s pace turn sloppy and frantic, his moans louder than before, and not even a second later, he came. He filled you up first, panting, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He stayed inside of you for a while longer, until he finally pulled out.

Yoongi didn’t allow anyone to take Jin’s place, he continued fucking you, his pace fast and hard. You couldn’t help the lewd noises that slipped past your lips, and you didn’t care how loud you were. The only thing on your mind was the cock slamming into your pussy.

Jimin switched places with Taehyung, now his cock in your mouth while Jimin stepped back and enjoyed the show. Jungkook tilted his head back as he pushed his hips further towards your face, digging his cock deeper into your mouth.

Soon after, Yoongi’s seed spilled inside of you, and you clenched around his cock. He groaned, biting down on his lip, pulling out of you. Your pussy was only left alone for a few seconds before Hoseok eagerly took the spot. He sat down next to you before he pulled you onto his lap, earning some annoyed groans and glares from the men as their cocks slipped out of your mouth and hands.

Hoseok lifted you up and down, bouncing you on his cock, and he held a smile on his face at how soaking wet and warm your pussy was. Namjoon took the opportunity to ram his cock into your needy pussy, both him and Hoseok fucking you in tandem, and the pleasure was too much. You screamed and moaned, the cocks stuffed inside of you were making you feel lightheaded. You could feel Hoseok’s tongue drag over your neck as Namjoon kneaded your chest, your breasts filling his large hands.

Your ears rang, your mind went blank, and everything felt blurry, but the men continued to fuck you. Your head tilted back as Namjoon and Hoseok changed the rhythm, Namjoon pounding into your pussy while Hoseok slowly fucked into you. The three of you continued to go on like this, the cocks stuffing you to the brim, until Hoseok and Namjoon both came, their seed filling you up.

One of the sisters on standby, stepped in to offer you a cup of water, before she bowed and stepped back, not wanting to stand in the way of you finishing. You took a minute to breathe and catch your breath, before the three youngest were left.

You were taken away from the blankets and brought to one of the chairs, where Taehyung sat down and pulled you onto his lap. He held you into place as he pushed his errection into your ass, stretching your hole and earning a squeak from you. As he fucked your ass, Jungkook and Jimin stepped over. Jungkook went straight for pushing his cock into your pussy, while Jimin decided to make you suck his cock for a few minutes before he also pushed in his cock into your pussy.

The chair creaked and shifted under the weight and force of the three men fucking you relentlessly, but you couldn’t even hear it, your hearing fuzzy and your sight blurry.

“Oh! Oh!” You gasped, eyes wide and mouth agape, unable to do anything but allow the three men to use your holes however they pleased. It was too much— too much pleasure at the same time, but it was so good, too good. Drool dripped down your chin, your hair a mess, your robe abandoned somewhere on the ground. First Taehyung would thrust, before pulling out, which was when Jimin pushed in, along with Jungkook, before they’d switch their pace and start alternating again.

Taehyung was the first to come, his seed spilling inside of you, and as soon as he pulled out, it was when Jimin and Jungkook came as well, filling you up with their seed.

You were left panting, drool dripping from your mouth and tears in your eyes. The sisters stood by your side and wrapped a warm towel around you. Your legs were shaking, and you felt wobbly so you sat back down, shit, you needed a break after that.

“Now I declare, that all of you have been cleared of your sins…

Jungkook, Battery

Jimin, Extortion

Taehyung, Kidnapping

Seokjin, Murder

Namjoon, Burglary

Yoongi, Cybercrime

Hoseok, Arson…”

[opossumprints]

You're Weird--I'm Weirder

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV Eddie, a part 2/continuation of this, now with part 3

Eddie has a problem. Like Eddie Munson, the person has a problem. On a psychological level. Normal people have problems like flat tires or going to the store only to find that they don't have their favorite cereal. But noooo, not Eddie. He just has to be different. 

Eddie is sitting on the floor of his room–which, to be fair, is a pretty normal thing to do–staring at eight pristine pairs of underwear. Odd, but not totally out of the question. The freaky bit is that not a single one belongs to him.

Eddie spread them out, laid them in a straight line, sat down, and wondered how the hell he got here. 

In theory, he knows exactly how he got here. It had started on a completely normal Sunday laundry day. The Munsons have a system; every Sunday morning, Eddie unceremoniously chucks his dirty laundry in a bucket, chucks the bucket into his van, and drives his sorry sleepy ass down to the town's cheap, dingy laundromat when the church crowd is too busy doin’ their thing and the building is at its quietest. 

The system worked very well for Eddie. The structure meant he actually got his laundry done instead of leaving it piled in a corner, and it gave him an excuse to get out of going to church with his Uncle Wayne. 

It's not that he didn't love his uncle; he just hated going to church (and the people at church hated him, so it’s a win-win scenario). 

The only problem came about Sunday, the 16th of February, 1986 (yes, he remembers the day, it's that bad). That problem’s name is Steve freaking Harrington. 

Eddie had walked in like normal, said hello to the owner like normal, and walked to his normal machine near the back. The day was totally and completely normal except for the fact that when he looked up, Steve was standing right there. 

Eddie had been so surprised to see King Steve in a crappy laundromat of all places that he had frozen mid-step and lost his balance. It also just so happened that Steve’s basket of dirty laundry was directly under his foot, and when he teeter-tottered over, Eddie stepped right in it and slipped like it was a cartoon banana peel. 

Clothes had flown everywhere. 

Eddie had been so preoccupied with apologizing that he wasn't paying attention to whose proverbial panties he was snatching. It hadn’t been until he dumped his clean clothes on his bed to sort and put away that he even noticed the pair of underwear he'd nabbed definitely weren't his. 

It was an honest mistake—one that anyone could have made. The boxers looked like something Eddie would buy: red with a black waistband, probably came in a three-pack with a matching blue and gray pair. 

If it wasn't for the fact that the tag inside read “Stevie” instead of any of the crude jokes Eddie labeled his underwear with, he probably wouldn't have noticed.

Obviously, Eddie couldn't give them back without risking having his face pummeled, so he shoved them in his closet, and that was that.

Or it would have been, but it kept happening.

From that point onward, every Sunday, Eddie would come back from the laundromat only to discover underwear that didn't belong to him and definitely belonged to Steve.

The real kicker was that he couldn't remember stealing a single one! Besides the first pair, he had no idea when and how the offending underwear ended up with him. 

So now here he is, sitting in front of a line of underwear and contemplating his life choices.

(And admiring his collection. But only a little!)

Oddly, each pair got, how could he put this, more…cutesy? than the last. The first pair is solid red and normal, but the second pair is a sweet and buttery pastel yellow. Pair number three is baby pink. Number four is the first pattern, a classic white with red hearts. Pair number five is also pink, but this time with pale five-petaled flowers scattered across them. And so on.

He can excuse the patterned ones as probably some sort of Valentine's gag gift. It had been two days before the initial panty pilfering after all.   Not that he needs excuses for the pattern of boxers he doesn't own. What he has no excuse for is pair number eight. 

Pair number eight is made out of silk and lace, the color of bittersweet nightshade. They have Stevie written on the label like all the others. They’re teeny and sweet and most definitely lingerie. And they're driving Eddie up a wall!

Not even for the normal reasons! Most dudes like Eddie would be losing their minds because they stole lingerie from their crush, but the thing that's bugging Eddie is that there is no possible way he’s the one who stole them. 

Eddie was extra careful today. He kept his head down, and he chose a machine further away from Steve, he didn't even talk to the guy. 

(Steve had come over to talk to him since Eddie's grand spill. The first time it happened, Eddie was fully prepared to meet his maker, only for Steve to ramble out apologies rapid fire. It turns out that Steve had spent the whole week guilt-ridden because he had left his basket in the middle of the walkway, which caused Eddie to slip.  Poor guy didn't calm down until Eddie had reassured him no less than 15 times that he wasn't hurt and they were totally cool.)

It had become part of the routine, part of the system, for the two to have a conversation before one or the other left. But not today. today he was careful. The very second he had noticed Steve make his way over out of the corner of his eye he made a break for the bathroom. Never before had he been so grateful for the fact that Sudsy’s had a toilet left over from when the building was something else. 

He hid there for as long as was socially acceptable before slinking out to start his drier cycle. He waved to Steve across the room when he saw him. Just to say they were still cool. No other reason. 

The point is that the only time he was anywhere near Steve’s laundry basket was when Eddie passed it on his way out. He definitely did not grab anything then. Or at least he thought he didn't. 

Oh god did he? Was he so far gone that he didn't even notice?!?!

Eddie groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Hands that were still holding the underwear, the underwear, The probably not clean underwear, the–Jeasus, maybe Eddie did need to go to church ‘cus the thoughts he is thinking are not pure!

What does he do now? He can't turn himself in, he’s in too deep. But if this continues… well he doesn't know what will happen, but it can't be good!

For now, he figures that as long as Steve hasn't figured out where his underwear wandered off to everything will be fine. 

Hopefully.

On the bright side, Eddie probably still has another hour until Wayne gets back. He can think of plenty of ways to fill that time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------hehehehehe Steve and I are twirling our collective nonexistent evil mustaches. If anyone was disappointed that Steve didn't show up much another part is already in the works. so don't worry! more is on the way.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Wife: The Duck Dilemma, Resolved

Joel Miller x F! Reader

not necessary to read but here's Part 1

Summary: Joel explores new ways to get the Ducks out of the Miller house once and for all

- - - -

When Joel wakes up, there's a blurred yellow fuzz thing—a fucking duck—standing on his chest, staring down its brown and yellow stained bill right along his own snout and directly into his soul.

"Dinner," he grunts with a sneer.

The little duckie utters an unbothered quack and hops off to the side. If only to its death over the cliff of his bedside edge. Only not so, for Sarah, who's standing by his side of the bed, scoops her up safely in her careful grasp. She leans on her tip toes and kisses Daddy on the cheek, and then holds the duck expectedly to his face with her big beady round baby eyes.

He grits his teeth, his chest grumbling with contained annoyance. 

His daughter, the light of his fucking life, only leans closer to him, Duckie held high with expectant gleam. Letting out a quick sigh, he makes quick work to peck its fluffy little self on the forehead. 

And one by one, he does so for all 6 ducklings she raises up to his lips carefully. He’s kissed more duck heads than he’s ever wanted to in his whole life now. 

She sets the last one down on the floor and walks away, a trail of 6 duckies following her with their aide to side waddles.

How she and you came up with the names Eenie Meenie Miney, Pickles, Pringles, and Presto, he will never ask. They all look exactly the same but somehow Sarah can tell them apart. 

Although, Sarah has called them EE, MEE, My, Picole, Pingle, Pwesto.

God Bless her.

“This one is Pringles—no wait that’s… that’s uh. Eenie? Wait Meenie?” You’re holding three in your arms, lifting them closely, trying to find the identifiable marks you’ve used as cheat sheet to remember them. Failing miserably. 

“Pwesto!” Sarah clarifies, stomping her foot and taking her baby duck back into her arms. They always nibble at her ear lobes, causing the little child to erupt into giggles.

“She’s making it up, I swear. She doesn’t know which ones are which…” you whisper to Joel.

“Just admit you can’t keep track of your hoard of children you keep bringing into this house.”

You frown. “I want 12 more kids from you. So lift your skirt and get to baby stuffing,” you say snakily, slapping his ass.

He sips his coffee with massive bags under his eyes as two ducks sit on top of the stove.

Some thoughts, albeit as brilliant as they are, would get him sent straight to hell. Like the one swimming in his brain at the opportunity right now.

He glances to the left, then right, then slowly reaches for the gas igniting knob along the stove top. Directly below the unsuspecting ducklings…

Threatening growls come from the floor below. He rolls his eyes and backs off with his hand in the air to show retreat, as fearsome Mommy number 2 (3?) Spoon here comes to save the day.

“Ya used to be on my side, lady,” he hums to the dog.

And it’s true. Spoon didn’t know how to react at first. She went from single pet baby sitting a little girl to being swarmed by 6 freaky little two footed flap flaps, the weirdest looking puppies she’s ever seen. When they crowded and yapped incessantly around her, she kept picking her feet up and backing up to avoid them, but they all just kept coming at all angles all over. At one point from sheer curiosity, she hesitantly puts one in her mouth.

 Sarah screamed at the top of her lungs and pointed to Spoon accusingly.

 "Yes good Spoon! That's good girl!" Joel claps quietly. He knows you two wouldn’t blame innocent Spoon if she accidentally ate a duck or half dozen. 

Unfortunately, Spoon does not like the sensation of the duck eating out her extra snack crumbs sitting in her teeth, instantly spitting the little guy out like a bowling ball. She jumps on the couch to avoid the rest, and they all flail helplessly trying to reach her. 

By the next day, Joel prayed maybe Spoon decided she wanted a late night duck-goulash and had swallowed his 6 new problems. Instead, you found the ducks nested tightly against Spoon’s body, sleeping into her heated belly like her own little babies.   "Cmon girl not you too,” Joel says, but Spoon growls at him  when he tries to take them away. She doesn't mind when they yap and tap, just lies down with them peddling all over her body and head, sighing in defeat.

"Did we just make Spoon a mom of 6 overnight?”

 Duck Duty has taken over the house 24/7. 

When Joel goes to the shower, pulling back the curtain, there's duckies paddling in the tub.

He has to empty his shoes before stepping in them because, lo and behold, a damn duck is in there.

There’s more frozen pea bags in the freezer specifically labeled for each duck than he can fit his pizza pockets in there.

“THATS IT!” He barks loudly when you and Sarah are tucking the ducks in his bed sheets for a movie night.

You all, including Spoon and all the duckies, go quiet and look up. 

Except, instead of finishing a statement, that is it. Joel storms out of the room the next moment, leaving you all sitting speechless.

Two seconds later you turn on the TV and all eyes focus on the screen to resume your movie night like normal.

-

Joel disappears in the garage for 3 days. You called Tommy asking if he was going to work, but Tommy told you he had called to let everyone know he would be unattainable for the weekend. Absolutely NO ONE was to disturb him. You could hear sparks and saw blades flying in the garage, heavy banging and all kinds of construction going on. Maybe you should be a little concerned. He hasn’t done anything else but this. 

You rub your hands together, braving the knock on the garage door. Maybe you had gone too far with the ducks. Was he preparing to build himself a new house to live away from you all? A death trap for the ducks to fall into?

A new wife???

You tighten your ass cheeks and raise your knuckles.

The door swings open before you can pound. A sweaty, dirty, musky, saw dust covered Joel Miller, with messy slick hair, flannel and low hanging jeans complete with his decades old tool belt greeted you with gritted teeth.

“S’done,” he says plainly.

“W-what’s done?”

He takes your hand and leads you out. “Sarah! Ducks! Fall in!”

Sarah hops off her chair that she was braiding her doll’s hair. As she follows behind you, all 6 quickly growing Duckies  follow behind her like a pre-school hand holding chain.

You all round out the now empty garage and towards the backyard gate. He opens it and shoves forward.

Part of the backyard and side of the house has been transformed into a Duck Oasis Paradise. A custom built duck house with heating lamps, fresh bedding and smoothed wood adorn the area, with a water fountain and splash pad of fresh water constantly rippling their own little Duckie pond/pool. Each duck has its own feeding station, and even custom bed slots with “Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Pickles, Pringles, Presto” hand painted for their own bunks. There’s a raised mini bed for Sarah to lie in with a canopy so they can cuddle and watch projector movies outside. Joel had even installed a side door that leads into the garage if absolutely need be they MUST come inside once again. Everything is painted to Sarah’s princess house liking, and she is able to sit inside the and play around the area while it maintains its Duck-necessities.

As if she had just met the real Santa Clause, Sarah screeches excitedly and runs around with the ducks to explore their new home.

Joel’s hands are on his hips, smirking proudly at your reaction.

Your mouth is on the floor. When the FUCK?? HOW the fuck??

“You thought I was gonna cook em’ didn’t ya?” He boasts.

“I —wushhshh pshhh—N--ta—nmmm-pshhh.” You don’t have words to try to deny it. 

“Ah huh.” He points to his cheek … well, cheekily. “C’mere and give it ta me.”

Inserted, you grip his face, turn him to face you, and plant your entire mouth on his, swallowing his lips and his entire body if you could.

He grins and kisses you back. 

“When are you going to put this much effort into putting another baby in me?” You tease while curling his hair.

He’s left quite shocked, and is about to suggest the two of you stow away while the kids are occupied until—

Sarah runs up like she’s about to pole vault and launches herself into her Dad’s arms for the biggest hug a todler can muster. Joel bends down to his knees to return her kisses.

And that would have been it, were it not for the duck that’s immediately in her hands, held right to his cheek.

“Ugh,” he groans with rolled eyes. He holds it all in as Sarah lifts them to nibble at his beard stubble in a duck fashioned kiss, each getting a turn to clean his facial hair.

You clasp your hands together, beaming at possibly the greatest man the earth had ever put out.

She runs off with the ducks following to go play with their new land.

“2 adults. 1 kid. 1 dot. And 6 ducks…” he says, referring back to your previous comment. “That ain’t enough for ya?”

“12.”

“12…?” Were you serious about 12 kids????

“Ducks,” you state plainly, avoiding his eyes.

“Wh—what, are they all pregnant?” He asks incredulously.

“No…” you lock your fingers together, sealing side to side in the way Sarah does when she’s admitting to doing something horribly wrong. “I thought you were going to eat these ones… and I didn’t want Sarah to be sad and so I … maybe… it’s actually really funny, Joel.”

“YOU BOUGHT—SIX—MORE—DUCKS???”

“Ohh oh no!” You shake your head, as if hoping to dissipate the steam billowing from his ears. Though it’s almost like he knows it’s not any better. “Um… it’s way worse… I bought 12 more ducks. So that’s 18 total,” you smile widely with fearful yet innocent eyes.

Joel sits straight up in bed, his heart hammering and sweat persperating along his entire skeleton.  He clutches his heart, remembering to breathe in the night air, grounding himself in his surroundings from the nightmare. You’re sound asleep at his side, peaceful as ever.

He tosses the blanket and darts off to Sarah’s room. His girl sleeps just as innocently as you, with her teddy clutched under her arm. Lying atop her fuzzy pink decorative rug is Spoon, who raises her head curiously at the intrusion. He does a quick search, but nothing else moves in the room.

Joel runs to the backyard, foregoing any shoes. Despite no evidence in the house, he doesn’t get his hopes too high. He flips on the lights of the duck barn (which was not a dream), and braceshimself.

While he would have liked to have seen 0 flat footed peddling little yellow shits, a mere 6, and ONLY 6, ducks rest in their designated bed, tilting their head at him staring them down.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and takes a relieving breath.

“Thank fucking duck.”

- - - -

Taglist : @harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @peekyourinterest

[percyluvr]

sam winchester x fem!witch!reader summary: you're unaware of your witchy heritage, or even the existence of the supernatural, until two hunters come waltzing into your life claiming that you and your mother are witches wc: 9802 warning: pre-bunker era supernatural, violence (not a lot but enough to warrant a warning, i think), not proofread dedicated to my only (i think) pjo + spn moot, skye

“You’re up early, Sammy,” Dean says, looking into the doorway at his brother wiping sweat off his forehead. “And sweaty.”

“Yeah, I went for a jog. You should try it, it’s good for you. Plus, it’s nice outside.”

“Right, no thank you. Sleep is essential to keep looking this good.”

“Alright, man, if you say so,” Sam replies, disgust apparent on his face.

“Whatever. Listen to this,” Dean starts. “A middle-aged woman in Tupelo, Mississippi, was found dead last night with all of her teeth missing, and some freaky ass carving of some horned thing on her chest. Her husband came home and found her lying on the bathroom floor. Apparently she didn’t die until after she made it to the hospital, though, so whoever or whatever did this wanted it to be long and painful.”

“Huh. Sounds creepy.”

“Exactly. So what do you think? Our kind of gig?” Dean asks, fully knowing they were going to go find out either way.

“Yeah, definitely. Y’wanna head out now or get something to eat?”

“I’m hungry as hell. I need a burger before we deal with this.”

“I feel you. Well, not the burger part, but I’m definitely gonna need food before we head out.”

“Let’s hit the town then, see what there is to eat here,” Dean says, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it over his shoulders before walking out the door, Sam following after grabbing his laptop and jacket of his own.

****

After driving for a bit, they find a small, semi-trashy diner.

"I can't believe this is the only decent looking place in this whole town," Dean complains.

"I mean, what do you expect? We're in a town with a population below three thousand."

"Right. The food better be good or else I'll be pissed. Give me that menu," he grumpily demanded.

"Their salad looks good."

"Yeah, real funny. I'm gonna get that special edition deluxe baconator," Dean said excitedly, mood immediately improving at the sight of a greasy burger on the menu.

Sam makes a face, about to say something, but is interrupted by the waitress arriving at the table.

"You boys ready to order or do you need more time?" She asks, eyeing Dean.

"Oh, we're ready," Dean flirts.

Sam rolls his eyes. "I'll get the, uh, shake it up salad."

"Okay, and for you?" She asks Dean.

"I'll get that deluxe baconator."

"Got it, I'll be back in a sec."

She starts walking away, Dean eyeing her every step of the way.

"Seriously, dude?" Sam asks in disgust.

"Yeah, look at her, dude. Tell me you don't want a piece of that."

"Alright, man, enough. As soon as we finish we're getting right out of here, no flirting."

"Whatever. Don't be jealous you never get laid."

Sam rolls his eyes as the waitress walks over with a salad in one hand and Dean's burger in the other.

"Thank you," Dean says, giving her a wink. Sam sighs exasperatedly for what feels like the six hundredth time today.

"You've got to stop that."

"Stop what? I'm just appreciating the beauties of the world."

"Yeah, I'm ignoring you now. Eat your food so we can go."

"Who died and made you boss?" Dean mutters.

Sam ignores him, and proceeds to wolf down his salad.

"Little hungry there?" Dean asks.

"Last time I checked, I was the one that went for a three mile jog this morning, not you, so I'll eat all I want, thanks."

"Just asking, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Whatever, I'm done eating."

Dean wolfs down the rest of his greasy, and in Sam's opinion, disgusting burger, managing to nearly choke on it twice, then stands up and walks toward the counter. He turns around and mouths 'getting her number,' and raises his eyebrows twice at Sam, who just rolls his eyes in response.

Sam shakes his head and walks out to the Impala, assuming that Dean is flirting, with a side of paying for their breakfast.

He opens the shiny black door of his brother's 1967 Chevy Impala and sits down on the beige seat, looking out the window at the diner. Moments later, the door opens and Sam sees Dean’s smug smile and a small piece of paper being waved around in the air.

When Dean sits down in his car, he immediately looks at Sam. “And that is how it’s done by a true master of charm,” he boasts, putting the key in the ignition and shifting to reverse.

“Good for you. I can get girls’ numbers too, y’know. I’m not celibate, or whatever crap you call me.”

“Sure, Sammy. Whatever makes you feel better. But if you really think you can get a girl’s number instead of me, you’re mistaken. So, whoever gets the number of the hottest girl wins.”

“That’s stupid, I’m not doing that.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t see. I’m focusing on the case.”

Sam sees Dean smirk in response as they pull out of the parking lot. He clenches his jaw in annoyance.

****

Halfway on the way to Tupelo, Sam asks, “So what do you think we’re looking at here? ‘S not everyday we work a job like this.”

“Honestly? No idea. Not a big fan of the carving on the chest, either. Never seen a symbol like that before.” 

"Great," Sam grumbles, and for the rest of the car ride his thoughts were full of possibilities of what they could be hunting.

****

Four hours later, the Impala rolls into Tupelo, and the first building they see is a fairly decent looking motel, which they decide to spend the night in. After checking into the motel, they carry their bags into the room, immediately grabbing out their fake FBI badges and cheap costume suits.

After quickly changing, they head out to the Impala. “Ready to see every dentist’s nightmare?” Dean jokes.

“Actually, pretty sure that would be you. I can’t remember a day where you didn’t eat some kind of candy or tooth rotting food,” Sam says. “Or even brushed your teeth for that matter.”

“Dude, I brush my teeth.” Sam raises his eyebrow. “Sometimes.”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, right. Your breath smells like a dead person.”

****

Dean parks the Impala in front of a white two-story house in some, as Dean says, stuffy suburban neighborhood. They get out of the car and walk over to the house, Sam knocking on the front door.

A man, the woman's husband, Sam assumes, opens the door.

“Mr. Feezerman, we'd like to talk to you about your wife,” Sam says, flashing his fake badge.

“Thank God the FBI is involved. The cops here have no idea what's going on. Come in,” Mr Feezerman says, gesturing for them to come in.

Dean sits down on the couch, leaving Sam standing next to it.

“Mr. Feezerman, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Sam asks.

“Go right ahead. It’s upstairs, the second door on the left.”

“Thanks,” Sam says with a little nod of his head.

Upstairs in the bathroom, Sam searches through the drawers for a hex bag, but comes up empty. He moves onto checking the cabinet below the sink, but still nothing. He finally looks in the medicine cabinet and finds a small brown cloth tied together by a leather string.

"Damn it," he grumbles.

He grabs the bag and heads back downstairs after putting it in his pocket.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and sees Dean turn to look at him. Sam gives him a nod indicating his search was successful.

"Alright, that's all, thank you, Mr. Feezerman," Dean says.

****

"Alright, so what are we thinking?" Dean asks.

"Well, based on the hex bag I found, I'm thinking witch. And not some beginner level witchcraft, either, dude. I'm talking ancient witchcraft, warts, wrinkles, and all."

"Awesome," Dean groans.

"Yeah. And I'm thinking it's not just one witch, either. Witches this strong usually form covens to protect themselves."

"Awesome times two," Dean says, furrowing his eyebrows and grimacing.

"Well, what did you get? She have any enemies?"

"Her husband said that her and some of the other prissy ladies were in some sort of book club or whatever he said, I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking about that waitress from before,” Dean says dreamily.

“Dude, focus.”

“Right, anyways. Apparently, he found out through some lady she was friends with that she was cheating on her husband with one of the other lady’s husbands. Say that five times fast.”

“Sounds complicated, but also like we have some clear suspects.”

“Right. The book club or wine club or whatever it is these trophy wives do with their free time.”

“Dude, chill with the ‘I hate cookie-cutter families’ thing.”

“My bad.”

“You wanna head to the morgue or talk to suspects?”

“I’ll go to the morgue, you talk to suspects. I can’t handle any more of these people.”

“Alright. Did you get any names or addresses?”

“Obviously. This isn’t my first hunt,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, man. Take me to the first house.”

****

When they reach the first house, Sam gets out of the car.

“Meet back here in 30?” Sam asks.

“Uhh, y’know what? I think I’ll come with.” 

“What happened to not being able to handle any more of these people today?”

“Well that is one cougar just begging to be tamed,” Dean says, eyeing up the woman sitting on the porch.

“Disgusting, seriously.”

“Don’t hate the player.”

“Shut up.”

They walk up the pathway and up the stairs. When they reach the porch, the blonde woman gets up from her spot on the swing.

“Hello, boys, how can I help you?” She asks.

“FBI, we have a few questions about Amelia Feezerman,” Dean says, holding up his fake badge.

“Oh, dear. Come inside, then,” she says, leading them inside to the living room.

“So, nice place you got here,” Sam says.

“Oh, thank you,” she says, and before she can continue, Sam hears the pitter-patter of feet on the floor. “Honey, the cookies look delicious. Hopefully you two like chocolate chocolate chip.”

“Oh, I’m not really a sugar pers-“ Sam starts to say, but when he sees the woman standing in front of him, he quickly changes his mind. “But it doesn’t hurt occasionally.”

“Good, it’d be a shame if these cookies went to waste,” you say, winking at him.

“Like mother like daughter, damn,” Dean says under his breath.

Sam elbows him. “Knock it off,” he hissed.

“Before you two leave, let me know how the cookies are,” you say, gaze lingering on Sam before you walk out of the living room and back into the kitchen.

“We will,” Sam says, making ‘goo-goo eyes’, as Dean later calls them, at you.

“Dude, go in there and talk to her, I’ll talk to the mom here,” Dean says lowly to Sam, who nods in response and follows you into the kitchen.

The unfamiliar sound of footsteps prompts you to turn around, surprised to see the, in your opinion, cuter agent following you into the kitchen.

“Hello, agent,” you say with a grin.

“Hey, I’m Sam,” he shyly responds.

“Well, Sam, what did you think of the cookies?” You ask eagerly.

“They were really good. I’m really a sweets type of person, but you surprised me,” he compliments, the crinkling of his eyes serving as an effect of the wide smile gracing his face. You think that his smile makes him at least five times cuter, but you decide to keep that to yourself, for now at least.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad to contribute to the conversion of you into a dessert lover,” you joke, earning another beautiful smile from him.

“So, I’m not exactly here to talk about your cookies, however delicious they may be,” he admits, albeit a bit nervously for someone in the FBI, you think.

You raise an eyebrow. “How can I help you, then?”

“Have you heard about the death of Amelia Feezerman?” Your eyes widen, and you nearly choke on the cookie you were eating.

“What? Oh my God, no, I had no idea.”

“Ah, so you wouldn’t happen to know anything about her death?” He questions.

“Um, no? Why would I know anything about that?” You wearily ask.

“We thought that maybe you would know if there was any reason that anyone would want to hurt her.”

“Well, I didn’t really know her all that well. I know that she was in some book club thing with my mom, but that’s about it,” you say, crossing your arms. “Actually, I did hear that she was getting it on with some of her friends’ husbands.”

“Yeah, we know that,” Sam begins, “wait, plural husbands?”

“Yep,” you say, popping the ‘p.’ “She’d get with anything that breathes.”

“I see. So do you think any of these women would want to get revenge on her for that?”

“Oh, definitely. Some of these women are vicious. Rich women are some of the craziest people I’ve ever met, so glad I’m only back for three months,” you snicker.

Sam laughs. “So, you in college, then?” 

“Yeah, I’m in my third year, just home for the summer,” you explained.

“Yeah? You enjoying college?”

“Partially, I mean sometimes I miss my mom, but then I remember that visiting her means having to come back here, and I’m over it immediately,” you sheepishly admit.

“Really? It doesn’t seem too bad here, other than the death,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I guess you haven’t seen how people really are here.”

“How do you mean?”

“I guess I just mean that people here are petty and would do anything to get back at anyone for the smallest stuff,” you say sadly. “Especially some of my mom’s friends.”

You take the look on Sam’s face as an incentive to continue, “her friends are like, money obsessed, and if any other woman gets close to their husbands, somehow they’re mysteriously gone within the month. It’s kind of freaky, to be honest.”

Sam clenches his jaw as Dean walks into the kitchen.

"You ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah, give me a second.”

Dean gives him a look, but nods and leaves the kitchen.

“Give me a call if you can think of anything else that might be relevant to the case,” Sam says, handing a card with his FBI phone number on it to you.

“Will do,” you say, winking at him.

****

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asks.

“Well, apparently this isn’t the first time this has happened here. According to her, multiple women go missing every year, all women that have gotten too close to the husbands of these book club ladies.”

“So we’re looking at a coven full of snotty rich women?” Dean complains, shoulders sagging.

“Guess so.”

“Doesn’t seem so bad for you though, Sammy. Don’t think I didn’t see you laying down the nerdy charm in there,” he jokes.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Sam defends. “I was just getting information and she happened to be pretty and conversational.”

“Sure, Sammy, sure.”

****

Before heading back to the motel room, Sam and Dean decide to stop by a restaurant for dinner.

“Dude, don’t tell me you’re gonna get another salad. You need some real food.”

“Like what? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure what you eat wouldn’t be classified as ‘real food’ either.”

“It’d be closer to real food than the shit you eat. You eat rabbit food, I eat manly food,” Dean argues.

“‘Manly food?’ How is it manly? It’s just greasy and disgusting. You’re gonna get a clogged artery in like 3 months because of it.”

“Whatever, I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

Sam shakes his head and goes back to looking at the menu.

Sam’s menu browsing is interrupted by a familiar voice. “Can I get you two started with a drink?” 

He looks up to find you looking somehow just as beautiful in a waitress uniform, looking at him with stars in your eyes and a grin gracing your features.

“Well, hello again, agent. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were stalking me,” you playfully say, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Hey, again. And yeah, I’ll just have a water,” he says.

“Alright, but honestly, I’d get the strawberry lemonade. It’s way better.”

“If you say it’s good, then I’ll give it a try,” he says, smiling coyly.

“Good, so a strawberry lemonade for you,” you start, turning to Dean, “and for you?”

Dean orders his drink, and while they wait for you to return with their drinks, they look at the food on the menus, at least Sam does, until he realizes that Dean is looking at him over his menu with a smirk on his face.

“Dude, what’s up with you and the waitress?”

“Nothing,” Sam says hesitantly. “I mean, she’s pretty, but I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? If a hot girl is hitting on you, take that as a blessing. How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?” Dean reminds him, and for once Sam thinks he’s right, only a little bit, though. It had been a while since he even flirted with a girl, and it really couldn’t hurt, could it?

However, his train of thought is interrupted by your presence at the table again. You place each drink in front of them, being extra careful with Sam’s. 

“So, are we ready to order?” You ask.

The boys order, and you jot it down on your notepad before walking away from their table. This time, Sam takes the time to watch the way your hips swing from side to side every time you take a step. All he can think is that you have the most graceful walk he has ever seen in his life, which he then thinks is a little weird, but it’s just like him to notice these small, weird, and typically brushed over details of people.

When you back out of the kitchen doors, a plate in each hand, Sam is still staring. He can’t help thinking how beautiful you are, and how cute the smirk you always seem to have on your face is.

You place the plates down on the table. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.” You give Sam a smile that could just as easily be for both him and Dean, but he chooses to believe it was just for him.

Dean smirks. “She’s one hell of a beauty. If you aren’t gonna do anything with that blessing, I will.”

Sam gives him a dramatic look of disgust, but otherwise ignores his comment in favor of eating his sandwich. 

After they finish, Dean heads out to the car, insisting that Sam goes and talks to you. 

He walks up to the counter, money in hand. “Hey.”

You give him a grin. “Hey, there. Enjoy the food?”

“Yeah, it was really good,” he says, sliding you a twenty dollar bill. “That enough?”

You nod. “So, I get off in two hours. If you care, that is.”

He smirks. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, if my charms are still working, I would assume that you care. I’m quite pretty, after all.”

“And humble,” he jokes, earning an, in his definitely not biased opinion, adorable giggle from you. “But, yeah. You’re right, I do care.”

“Good, then meet me at the bar across the street. And don’t be late, otherwise I might find another man willing to fall under my spell.” You lean on the counter and give his hand a pat.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen, so I’ll be there.” He smiles and heads out the door, leaving you leaning your head into your palm, grinning like a teenage girl that just made plans with her first boyfriend.

**** 

When Dean sees Sam walking out the door with a smug smile on his face, he can’t help but don a smile of his own. 

Sam opens the car door, greeted by Dean’s all-knowing grin. “So, you got a date tonight?”

“It’s not a date, we’re just going to the bar after she gets off work.” 

“Well, whatever, we finally got you a lady. Make the most of it, but don’t have too much fun. Still have to get rid of these witches.” Sam finds Dean’s advice very out of character, because typically he would tell him to have the time of his life, but he’s too elated to make much out of it.

“I know, man.”

Dean pats him on the shoulder. “Let’s head to the bar, get you a head start to your night of fun. I’ll look into this witch coven.”

“Dude, since when do you want to do the research?” Sam questions.

“Ever since you started getting chicks instead of me.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You were hitting on a waitress this morning.”

“Can’t do anything with her number now, so it doesn’t count.”

“You could call it.”

“Nah, not in the area. Not worth driving all the way back for a waitress.” Sam raises an eyebrow but decides not to say anything.

**** 

In the bar, Sam and Dean are sitting at a small round table. Sam is drinking a bottle of beer while sitting across from Dean, who for once for once is not trying to get laid, but is actually researching the case at hand.

“Alright, so get this. These moms meet up at your new girlfriend’s house every Tuesday and Thursday and are there until, like, four in the morning.”

“Where are you getting this information?” Sam asks, using his years of enduring Dean’s teasing to skilfully avoid giving into Dean’s provocation.

“Some noise complaints that have been filed over the past few years.”

“So these are for sure our witches, then,” Sam observes.

“Seems like it,” Dean agrees.

Sam finishes his second beer of the night and grabs one of the files in front of Dean. 

“Alright, so there are four witches in this coven,” Sam reads from the file.

“Do you think the chick you’re meeting is also in it?” Dean asks.

Sam rests his chin on his palm, giving it some thought. He knew that some witches were born with their abilities, and since your mother was a witch, it was likely that you were born as one, but that didn’t necessarily mean that you were in on the killing, or that you even knew that you had powers. He hoped that you weren’t, but he thinks that he also wouldn’t mind it too much if you were. He would never admit it to Dean, but he thought that if you were a witch, it might be pretty cool.

“I don’t think so, she seemed really concerned about the killings and disappearances,” he defends.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve got the hots for her.”

Sam makes a face. “Yes, I like her, but I’m serious. I don’t think she is.”

“Alright.” Dean puts his hands up as if to say ‘Sorry, please don’t kill me now.’ 

Sam sees you walk in the door, heading straight for the bar. After taking a few more sips out of his new bottle of beer, he gets up out of his chair. Dean gives him a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ look, which he gracefully ignores in favor of sitting on the stool next to you.

“Hey there, stranger,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Hey,” he says giddily, causing you to come to the realization that he’s already at least a bit drunk. 

“So you’re a happy drunk,” you observe.

“Whaaat? I’m not drunk,” he argues.

You give him a knowing smile, but indulge him anyway. “Alright, fine. How’s the case going?”

“‘S good, we have suspects now,” he boasts.

“Yeah? I assume that’s all thanks to your hard work here,” you tease.

He gives you a toothy grin. “You know it.”

The bartender comes over and you order some fruity drink that Sam doesn’t catch the name of. When you get it, Sam asks to try it, which you oblige, of course.

“Wow, that’s good. I want one, too.”

“It is, but is that really a good idea? How many beers have you had already?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Two, but I started on my third.”

“Oh. Well, I guess you can have some more of mine, but don’t drink too much. It’s pretty strong, and we wouldn’t want your partner over there to have to deal with you being too drunk,” you tease.

He frowns. “Who cares what he thinks? He’s bossy,” he groans. “And annoying,” he adds for safe measures.

You give him a comforting smile and a pat on his arm, causing you to realize just how muscular it is, along with the rest of his body. You somehow didn’t notice before, but now that you have, it’s all that’s on your mind.

“Sounds like I’ll have to take you off his hands for the night then, huh?” 

He notices that your hand is still on his arm, causing a light pink to dust his cheeks. “Sounds like a plan.”

“So, once you’re done with this case, how long until you leave?”

“It depends. Could be a week, could be the same day we finish the case. For you, though, I’m sure I can arrange staying around for a bit longer,” he suggests.

“That sounds nice,” you admit.

“Good, I’ll work it out then,” he states. “You look beautiful, sorry for not saying it earlier.”

“Well, thank you.” You grin, slightly shocked at how bluntly he says it, but you’re definitely not complaining. Looking over Sam’s outfit, you can’t help notice how good he looks in jeans and a flannel. The way the sleeves of his flannel tighten around his arms doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Now that you’ve seen how he looks in the basic combination, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to think another man looks good in it. “You don’t look half bad yourself. Casual is your look, agent. Not to mention that shirt is doing wonders for your arms,” you compliment, causing a dark blush to appear on his face for the second time tonight.

“Thanks,” he mumbles in embarrassment, clearly not expecting you to have flirted back, and if he did, he definitely didn’t expect you to flirt so blatantly. He’s flustered, and so, he decides to shift the conversation topic off of himself. “So, where do you go to college?”

“Last year I transferred to Stanford, but I went to an in-state college that was far enough away from here before.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, giving you a small smile. “I went to Stanford, too.”

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah, I was studying to be a lawyer. Until my brother came to my apartment and told me he needed my help looking for our dad, at least” he admits.

“You didn’t finish school?”

“No, but it turned out to be a good thing,” he says, his voice sounding like he was trying to convince not only you, but himself as well. You raise an eyebrow, but in hopes of not upsetting the cute puppy-eyed boy you’d met only hours earlier, ultimately decide against saying anything to contradict his statement. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice your hesitance to accept his statement.

“I’m glad. Although, I’m sure you could still finish school if you ever wanted to. It wouldn’t hurt to have a back-up plan,” you suggest, laughing internally at the fact that being a Stanford educated lawyer would be his ‘back-up plan.’

“I guess. But I don’t think I could let Dean work all by himself.” The crestfallen expression he has on his face after imagining leaving Dean, paired with his puppy dog eyes is almost too much for you to handle. 

You put your hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb across the flannel he was wearing. “You’re a good partner, Sam. He’s lucky to have you.”

A perplexed look flashes across his face until he realizes that you meant they were FBI partners, and he quickly recovers by giving you a small smile. You find yourself unable to think about anything but his gorgeous eyes, sweet smile, and silky hair, causing you to get that warm fuzzy feeling that all your friends describe when talking about their boyfriends, and you feel yourself returning a smile without even trying. It felt almost like a reflex, and you realized that you were developing a crush on the tall, sweet, doe-eyed man. This thought is even further confirmed after Sam puts his large hand over yours, curling his fingers around your significantly smaller ones, causing your heart-rate to pick up.

You don’t even notice the blush appear on your face until you hear Sam’s teasing voice. “Now who’s the one blushing?”

“It’s just the lighting, don’t get all cocky,” you try to defend, to no avail, though, since Sam’s mischievous grin does not falter after hearing your defense.

“If you say so,” Sam says, doing his best not to let a doubtful expression cross his face.

“I do,” you firmly state. A small lull of silence overcomes the conversation, and you search through your brain to search for a new topic to discuss. “You said you have a brother? What’s his name?”

“Uh, about that. Dean is my brother.” Your eyebrows lift slightly.

“No way. You guys are brothers and work together? That’s pretty cool,” you observe.

“Yeah, sometimes. Other times he’s a real dick, though.”

“I bet. But he seems pretty nice for the most part.”

“He’s a good guy, he just thinks he has to protect everyone, especially me. He doesn’t realize I can do things on my own. I mean I was in college without him and I did just fine.”

You nod sympathetically, understanding how complex family relationships can be. From there, the conversation flowed smoothly and you felt like you could tell Sam anything without any judgment, leading you to ask, “Would you, uh, want to come over to my house for the night? My mom isn’t going to be home tonight.” As you say it, you feel like you’re in high school all over again, and you start to regret the words as soon as your lips stop moving.

Sam’s eyes widen and he stays quiet, further fueling your regret. For those brief few seconds, your mind races and you worry if you came off too strong or if he simply isn’t interested in you past a drunk conversation and flirting. Luckily, he realizes the look on your face and saves you from any further anxiety. 

“Sure, that sounds good.” Once again, the infamous smile graces his features, cheeks puffing up causing his eyes to crinkle and because not only is his face beautiful, of course his eyes have to be, too. You swear, even if no one else in the whole world agrees, his eyes are so beautiful in that moment that they glimmer.

You beam at him and slip off your stool, grabbing his hand and leading him off to the door. He looks back at Dean to find him already smirking at him. Dean gives him a wink, and for what is probably the millionth time in his life, Sam completely ignores him, focusing on the way you’re eagerly dragging him out of the place and to your car.

****

The next morning, Sam wakes up in a room that is far too nice to be the hotel that he and Dean were staying at, even though they always got the best room. He quickly remembers the events of last night and smiles. Although, his smile fades when he looks next to him to find you nowhere in sight. He rubs his eyes, looking around the room at the posters and decorations that let him peer into a tiny part of your life without worrying if he was overstepping any boundaries. 

He gets out from under the blanket and slips off the side of the bed, walking over to your desk that holds a curious collection of trinkets and a book full of pictures. He’s in the middle of flipping through the book when he hears the creaking of a door opening, and his reflexes have him whipping his head to see where the noise came from. You let out a little giggle when you find his face looking like a little kid that just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He tilts his head as if asking what you were laughing at, but you just shrug, a cheeky grin still on your face.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Sam?” 

For a moment, Sam is at a loss of words. “Uh, I was just….” He trails off.

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad. Just wondering what you’re looking at.” Your words clearly ease his mind, as he picks up the open photobook and points at the picture he was looking at. You smile as you look at a highschool version of you with some of your friends at a festival. 

“It’s a cute picture. You dyed your hair, though. I almost didn’t realize you were in it at first.”

“Yeah, I figured since I was going to college I should switch it up a bit.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Sam continues to flip through the pages. You carefully watch his expression change as his eyes move around the pages looking at different moments of your life. He was glad to get even more of a glance into who you were. 

Eventually, he reaches the end of the book and closes it, setting it back down on its rightful place on your desk. He joins you on the bed, sitting an awkward distance away from you, causing you to let out a small chuckle.

“What?” He questions, his puppy-dog eyes in full effect again.

“You can come closer, y’know. I don’t bite,” you tease. He blushes, as even more memories of last night flood into his brain. You definitely bit, but apparently only during certain hours of the day.

He scoots closer to you until your shoulders are comfortably pressed together. You take advantage of the proximity and lean your head on his shoulder.

“So, any plans for today?” You ask him.

“Not really. Just stuff for the case. I should probably check my phone.” You nod, and Sam thinks that the divine beauty of the slight raise at the corners of your mouth is unrivaled by any other sight Sam has ever seen, and he has seen almost too much in his short life.

He reaches over to the table next to your bed, trying his best not to move away from you and disturb your peaceful state of simple existence. He turns on his phone, seeing a few texts from Dean with more details on the case. He turns his phone off and decides that it wouldn’t hurt to stay here with you for another hour. You’re surprised by the weight of his head resting on top of yours, but who are you to complain? 

****

Unfortunately, an hour can go by very fast when you’re, as they say, having fun. Watching Sam walk out of your house pulled on a part of your heart that you wish it hadn’t, knowing that Sam would soon be leaving your not so small town and you would more than likely never see him again. You don’t think you would be able to handle not seeing him again, even though the two of you have known each other for less than a mere day. With these thoughts swirling around in your brain, all you can do is give him a small wave when he turns around to look at you one last time before getting into his brother’s ‘67 Impala.

****

“Dude, tell me about your night. Was it the craziest sex you’ve ever had? Is she freaky? Waitresses always are, man.” Dean’s rambles fill Sam’s ears as soon as he closes the door to the old, black car.

“Really? You couldn’t even wait five seconds before you start with this?” Sam complains.

“You haven’t gotten laid in centuries, Sammy, excuse me if I want to know if my little brother had a good time.”

“Shut up.” 

As usual, Dean completely ignores Sam’s protests and continues asking graphic questions about the ‘hot witch waitress’ until they arrive at the house of one of the witches in the coven.

****

Dean knocks on the door of the white two-story house, and within seconds is met with the face of a standard looking middle-aged woman.

“Hello, ma’am, FBI,” Dean says, flashing his fake badge, actions in sync with that of his younger brother.

The woman’s eyes widen slightly, but she schools her face back into neutrality quite quickly. “Come on in.” She motions for them to step into the house.

Dean sits down on the large couch in the living room, leaving Sam to remain standing next to it. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Sam asks.

“Of course, go right ahead. Up the stairs and two doors to the right.”

Sam gives her a grateful smile before he walks out of the living room and heads up the stairs. When he began his search, he had expected to find one hex bag, or maybe even zero, but what he hadn’t expected was three. He raised an eyebrow, assuming that all the others in the coven would have at least coordinated this better, but here he was, looking at three different hex bags.

He quickly grabs them before flushing the toilet to avoid suspicion or potential disgust on the woman’s part if she realized that he hadn’t flushed the toilet. 

Heading back down the stairs, he gives Dean a small nod to indicate his findings and to signal Dean to wrap up his investigation.

“You boys have a good day, good luck with your investigation,” the woman says, closing the door behind them as they walk down the stairs connected to the front porch.

“Dude, there were three hex bags in her bathroom,” Sam says, pulling the bags out of his pocket.

“I thought they only needed one? What’s the point of having more?” Dean inquired.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s more powerful or something.”

Dean made a sound of acknowledgement but said nothing in return. Sam took it as a cue to continue talking.

“So, I was thinking we just wait until a night that they meet up and then ambush.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed.

****

Back at the hotel room, Sam is researching more for the case, just to be safe, while Dean is out grabbing something for them to eat. Sam assumes that he’s gone back to the restaurant you work at so he can grab another glance at you.

Sam is deep into a passage on witchly powers when his phone rings, he assumes it’s Dean, but the small screen shows an unknown number. His eyebrows raise, but he answers the phone nonetheless. 

“Hello? Sam?” A familiar, but shaky voice asks from the phone.

He says your name as if it were a question, to which you quickly say, “Yes, um, sorry to be calling this late but I think there’s someone in my house.”

Sam’s jaw clenches, his whole face tensing up before quickly relaxing again as he prepares to defend the woman that he now found lingering in every crevice of his mind.

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Just lock your door and stay in your room, alright?” 

“Okay. Please stay on the phone with me, I’m really scared,” you admit.

“Yeah, yeah, you got it,” he says, rushing out the door of the hotel room before realizing that Dean was still out getting food. “Shit,” he breathed. However, now he could finally reap the benefits of his daily morning runs.

“What?” 

“Nothing, just a slight change of plans. Just stay calm.” His voice was slightly strained and now sounded more like a moan than actual words, and if you weren’t so damn scared you might have found it sexy.

****

About seven minutes and lots of heavy breaths from Sam’s end of the phone later, Sam was at the front door of your house, gun full of witch-killing bullets ready in one hand, and his small phone in the other. 

“I’m here, you’ll be good if I get off the phone?” He asks, fully ready to somehow manage to find a way to stay on the phone while fighting if you need him to.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Do what you need to do, please,” you say, but he hears the fear in your voice.

“I’ll be done and up there as soon as possible, alright? Don’t worry.”

He hears a small sound of acknowledgement from the other end of the phone before he finally ends the call and goes into the house. He heads straight for the door to the basement that, luckily, he had found when he made his journey to the bathroom the first time he was over at your house. He opens the door and grabs a second gun out of his pocket for safe measures, especially since Dean was nowhere to be found despite Sam’s multiple texts.

He slowly creeps down the stairs, doing his best not to let his weight cause the stairs to creek. Fortunately, he makes it down soundlessly, but is now stuck with the task of creeping through the abnormally large basement without getting cornered by witches.

It takes a few minutes before he finally hears the loud chanting start back up again, and while he knows that he’s probably free to walk as loudly as he wants to, he still keeps up the stealth.

The chanting slowly gets louder, and Sam steadies his arms to shoot both guns. As soon as he sees two figures in the door frame, he pulls the trigger on both, not wanting to risk the chances of them performing some spell on him before he gets a chance to get them first.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that there was still a third member of the coven, and as soon as he turns around, he’s met with the face of your mother, as well as a book harshly hitting his head and rendering him unconscious. 

The next thing he knows, he’s tied up in the same room that he shot the two witches.

“You’re not FBI, you’re hunters,” your mother says, disgust obvious in her voice.

“Like you’re any better. You kill innocent people,” Sam grunts, starting to discreetly rub the rope he was tied up with against the chair to cut it.

“Innocent? Oh, please, no one in this world is innocent, especially not you, and even more so since you’ve involved yourself with my daughter,” she spat.

Sam grimaces. “Oh, yes, I know all about that.” She smirks.

Sam is about to speak, but is interrupted by your voice calling out for him. As your voice grows closer and closer, Sam realizes his progress on the rope is not as fast as he hoped, and if he didn’t hurry up, you’d be in the room before he was free. 

However, to his dismay, you enter the room before he can free his arms, and all that he can think about is how awful it would be to watch you die, especially by the hands of your own mother. The nauseating thought is interrupted by a loud smashing sound that Sam immediately recognizes as a bat to the head. His head shoots up and he sees you, eyebrows furrowed with your eyes glazes over as you realize what you’ve done. 

He finally manages to get the rope holding his hands behind his back cut as you sink down onto your knees and start sobbing. His first reaction is to run over and hold you, asking if you’re okay, but he isn’t sure if that’s what you would want, and there’s no way in hell that he would want to upset you even more.

He settles for walking over to you and kneeling down with one hand on your back rubbing what he hopes are soothing circles on it.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” he comforts. “It’ll get better. Just know you had to do this, alright?”

“I know, Sam, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I didn’t even think about it, I just saw you tied up, and that was my first reaction. Am I insane?”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. It’s fine, you’re fine.”

Finally, you turn towards him and collapse into his arms, and though he’s surprised, he catches you and holds you closely and firmly to his chest. The hand that was once on your back is now on your head, comfortingly playing with your hair, and the other is wrapped around your waist as you sob into his shoulder.

****

Hours later, you’ve finally calmed down, and you and Sam are in your living room sitting on your couch, along with Dean, the other FBI agent that had arrived while you were still sobbing, much to your later embarrassment. However, Sam had reassured you that it wasn’t embarrassing, and Dean definitely wouldn’t find it so.

After his reassurance, you could find no trace of embarrassment still lingering in your mind. It was surprising that someone you’d only met a few days ago was able to not only understand you like that, but also manage to diminish your insecurities so easily. You found yourself thinking about how much you and Sam seem to have in common and how easy it is to talk to him. 

You lean your head on his shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye you see a small smile on his face. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you closer to him.

“Oh, get a room,” Dean grumbles in annoyance, but Sam knows that he’s just faking it. He knows Dean too well to not realize that he really is happy for him.

****

When you wake up the next day you feel a warm presence next to you in your bed. You quickly recognize the presence as Sam, leading you to snuggle closer, resting your head on his chest.

“Good morning,” Sam says groggily, his voice breaking you out of the peaceful trance you were in.

“Good morning,” you reply.

Sam gives your arm a small squeeze before sitting up. You mirror his actions, ready to start a conversation, but are interrupted by the loud sound of his phone.

He gives you an apologetic look and grabs his phone to presumably read a text.

“It’s Dean. He has a lead on the case,” he states, to your annoyance.

“That’s good, I think. Would it be wrong for me to ask if I could come with?”

Sam’s eyebrows raise at your unexpected request. He stays quiet for a few seconds before replying, “I won’t say no, but I also don’t want you to get hurt. So, I have to be honest with you.”

You tilt your head, encouraging him to continue.

“My brother and I aren’t FBI, we’re hunters.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?” 

Sam swallows as if to prepare for the words about to leave his mouth.

“Monsters are real. Vampires, ghosts, all of it. My brother and I hunt them.” As the words are leaving his mouth, Sam is suddenly hit with a wave of regret. What if you don’t believe him? What if you think he’s crazy and tell him to leave?

You, on the other hand, were thinking about how happy you were that Sam was comfortable enough with you to tell you about his real life. In the future, Sam would probably laugh about how vast the difference of what was going on in each of your minds, but now, he was taking your silence as negative.

When you saw the worry on Sam’s face, you immediately realized that you’d been sitting in complete silence since he’d admitted the truth about him and his brother. 

“Really?” The one simple word brought Sam joy and relief like no other moment in his life.

“You actually believe me?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, I mean what reason do I have not to? It does sound kind of insane, but I also bashed my mom’s head in with a bat yesterday, so…” You trail off, realizing that once again you’d been using humor as a coping mechanism instead of dealing with your problems.

Sam clears his throat, now feeling very awkward. “Right… About that, are you sure you want to come with? You’ve already been through a lot.”

“It would probably help to get my mind off of it, even if more traumatizing shit ends up happening, too.”

He pursed his lips, deep in thought. “Yeah, alright. If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”

You smile. “Yeah, it is.”

**** 

Half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back seat of the infamous black Impala with some old rock song that Dean picked playing.

“Sam, are you sure about bringing her?” Dean asks lowly, as if you couldn’t hear him from your spot right behind him. 

“Yes, Dean. It’s not like we’re leaving her to fend for her own while we go together,” he says exasperatedly.

“If you say so.”

You clear your throat, prompting Sam to turn around and give you an apologetic smile. You return the smile, but the annoyance you feel towards Dean does not dissipate. If anything, you feel it even more so after Sam apologized instead of him.

You decide to ignore it and stay quiet for the rest of the drive.

A few minutes and one rock song later, the Impala pulls into a driveway that you recognize as one of your mom’s friend’s house. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why are we here?”

Dean clicks his tongue. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Well, Dean, I’m sorry that I didn’t want to overwhelm her,” he sasses.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? You brought her on a damn hunt.”

The air in the car suddenly felt awkward and you felt as though you shouldn’t be listening to their conversation. 

“I’m just gonna get out and let you two finish your discussion,” you said quickly before opening the door and walking over to the porch of the house.

As you walked up the stairs, the front door opened, and the face of your old best friend from high school appeared in the doorway. 

She called your name, a big smile adorning her face.

“Lily, hey!” You said, feigning excitement to see the girl after three years.

“It’s been so long! Come inside. My mom is downstairs,” she exclaims, ushering you into the house and nearly slamming the door shut once you’ve entered her house. As soon as you enter the house, a chill runs down your spine and you can’t help but feel nervous about what’s about to happen.

****

You’d been in the house for a few minutes before Sam and Dean had even realized you hadn’t been sitting on the porch the whole time they’d been arguing, and when Sam looked over to see what you were doing, a wave of panic rushed through his whole body.

“Dean, she’s gone.”

“What the hell? See, this is why we shouldn’t have even brought her with us.”

“Dude, whatever, it doesn’t matter, we gotta go find her right now.”

Sam quickly opened the passenger door and rushed out of the car and through the front door.

He opens the door, quickly checking the living room. Nothing. He checks the kitchen and the dining room. Nothing and nothing. He checks all the rooms on the first floor and the second floor, then goes back to the first floor to check again, when he hears Dean calling out to him.

“Sam? Come here, I found a door to a basement or somethin’,” he calls out.

Sam follows the sound of his brother’s gruff voice and finds a door he doesn’t know how he missed. He’s usually thorough about searching, but he finds himself extremely on-edge this time. He thinks it might somehow, maybe, have something to do with his not-so-subtle crush on you, and maybe the thought that losing you would be one of the worst things that has happened to him even though he’s barely known you for five days.

He quickly pushes the thought to the back of his mind, at least for now, in favor of pushing ahead of Dean and heading down the stairs into the basement.

His mind is now absent of any “lovey-dovey” thoughts of you, but chock full of thoughts about how you could be dead right now. He never should have let you get out of the car and go inside without him. If you were dead, it would be all his fault, and he would never be able to escape the guilt of having another death on his conscience. 

However, with all of these thoughts, the thought that you could actually hold your own against the witches had somehow never crossed his mind. It definitely should have, though, because when he finally reaches you, you’re standing over two feminine figures that are lying still on the ground. 

He sees your chest rising and falling as the iron tight grip you have on the knife in your hand begins to falter. The knife clatters onto the floor as you look over to see Sam.

“Sam,” you pant, and he immediately rushes over to you and takes your tired figure into his arms. He immediately feels blood that he isn’t sure of the origins beginning to soak into his jacket, but he can’t bring himself to care about that right now. The only thing he cares about is your safety, and preserving that safety for as long as he possibly can from here on out.

“Are you okay?” He whispers next to your ear.

“No, Sam, I killed my mom and then my best friend from high school and her mom in the span of not even twenty-four hours. I feel horrible.”

“You had to, okay? They were killing people. Maybe that doesn’t help you feel better right now, but eventually it will. Don’t beat yourself up over it, or you’ll end up hating yourself for the rest of your life. This is how it is to be a hunter, and I understand if after now you never want to do it again,” he rambles, trying to somehow make you feel better, which he knows is nearly impossible right now, but he can’t stop himself from trying. To him, it almost feels like someone is taking control of his body and making him do everything in his power to help you.

He realizes very quickly, though, that it’s not a person taking control of his body, but an emotion: love. The realization is scary for him, to say the least, especially because of his track record with girlfriends dying, but he thinks that he would be okay with overcoming this fear if it means you would be his.

A few seconds later, Dean walks into the room and finds himself met with the sight of your shorter figure being held, in his opinion, disgustingly lovingly by his brother. He’s happy that his brother has found someone that seems like a good person from what he can tell.

Dean whistles, eyebrows raising in approval at the sight of the two witches’ bodies behind your back. “Damn, and you didn’t even need my help. You’re getting better, Sammy.”

Sam shakes his head. “I didn’t do this. She did,” he replies, turning around and giving Dean a smug look. Dean gives him a look of annoyance at being proven wrong when it comes to your ability to fight, but ultimately decides to give it a rest, for today at least. He could tell you were shaken up, and he felt that he could sympathize, only a bit, though.

When he realizes that you had taken out the two witches on your own, he couldn’t help but feel impressed, and he confidently feels that you and Sam are right for each other. It’s funny that it isn’t your loving personality or quirky teasing that tells him that you’re right for Sam, but instead the fact that you can hold your own in a battle. That really is a more valuable asset in their lives than any regular person, so Dean is glad that his brother has been lucky enough to find someone like that.

****

Later that day, you’re all standing outside your house that now feels very empty without your mother. You never realized how much of a presence she really had until now, and admittedly, it makes you sad to think about, no matter how much you disliked her.

Unfortunately, it’s about to get a whole lot emptier with Sam and Dean ready to head out to their next case. However, Dean’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and his words shock you even more.

“Kid, how would you feel about joining us for a few more hunts, see how you feel? Who knows, maybe you’ll become a permanent member of our group here.” 

Sam gives him a look of pure astonishment, but all he receives in return is a smug look and a little shrug.

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t want to be a burden to you guys with all the teaching me how to hunt and all that.”

“I don’t think we’d have to do too much teaching. You’re a natural,” Sam compliments, causing a deep blush to appear on your cheeks.

“Alright, Sammy. We’re gonna have to work on all that flirting,” Dean teases. “I’ll admit, I do agree, though. That was impressive. I probably couldn’t have done that on my first hunt,” he admits.

His unexpected words of praise make you smile, and your annoyance from earlier fades away. Dean could be a pain in the ass from what you’ve learned, but he could also be nice. You figured he was usually a pain in the ass, though, but you figured that you would be able to learn how to deal with it, or at least ignore it like Sam seems to be able to do.

“Alright. To be honest, it was kind of exhilarating, but also scary. I think it could be something I could learn to love, though.”

Sam gives you a warm smile, and gestures for you to go over there to give him a hug, which you excitedly accept, falling into his larger frame as his long arms wrap around you.

Dean grumbles. “Really? Again?”

All you and Sam do in response is laugh, much to Dean’s annoyance.

a/n: would yall be interested in this being a series or something ?? idk i feel like that would be fun to do

tags: @kozumesphone

[girls--complex]

So. Yeah. I can do this in the interest of vaguely trying to be helpful. I feel bad about brain vomiting at anon and then not editing myself when this is probably all they really wanted from me.

As you know I'm very much an intellectual who very much has a well researched and developed system of thought that I use and am not, like, just some woo ass freakazoid stoner, with holes in her brain and kind of a shitty education, who doesn't really inherently enjoy reading books. Yes reading books is extremely boring but I love to do it because I am oh so smart.

Soooo I'm limiting myself to FIVE books because five is a nice number. They are not books that require a great deal of literacy or education to read, or else I would not have read them. They are books that give what I feel is a helpful perspective on the Christian tradition. They will be listed in descending order of how much they mean to me personally to underscore the fact that I'm just some guy who is moreover just saying shit.

The Cost of Discipleship (Dietrich Bonhoeffer) Read this book if you want the text of the gospels to glow and pulsate when you read it and it doesn't already do that. Or you want it to do that more. Or you don't want to endlessly strive to be happy or healthy or a decent person anymore you just want to live. You won't like it but you can't argue with the testimony of Bonhoeffer's life. And then if you keep reading it you will like it. Sorry that it's Lutheran but no I'm not.

The Universal Christ (Richard Rohr) Read this book if you don't care about being cool or smart and you just want to be fucking happy for once.

Revelations of Divine Love (Julian of Norwich) Read this book if you want to encounter more than you want to interpret, if you enjoy freaky medieval shit that's actually awesome, if you are in the mood to scream and cry and throw up, or if you are considering a career in nursing.

The Sermons of Meister Eckhart (U know...) Read this book if you don't understand anything or if you feel like you understand anything or if you're a big fan of dharmic religions and want to read the Mandukya Upaishad as recieved by a catholic. Whats cool is they're all pretty short.

The Physics of Angels (Fox & Sheldrake) Read this book if you have some type of a heart for scary woo shit or want to develop a more balanced relationship to woo-ology, or if you want an overview of angels in the Christian tradition that steers clear of thoroughness or academic reliability in favor of wild psychedelic speculation and unchecked boomer optimism.

Thank U for asking me because I love to share. I know it's my blog so I can technically post whatever I want but I also don't want to post things no one cares about because that defeats the purpose of posting. OK bye.

[sevs-corner]

Lemme remind you that you asked for this.

So let’s imagine emo jock ghost practically harassing reader every day for a new mixtape, but reader being an emo nerd also gets bullied on the daily. And Simon notices, would he become protective of her?

Let’s also imagine reader in a band, probably a bassist or something. What would his reaction be? To the band, their music, live gigs. Would he harass reader for their music ass well?

Let’s imagine as well reader is a feminine pretty girl on top of emo. A lil gothic. Maybe shy and sweet, but a freaky dommy mommy when she get comfortable. How to Simon take that?

You can reshape all this however you wish, don’t feel pressured to do it all if you don’t want to. I just wanted to let it all in your hands

Lots of love 🫶🏻

THE WAY I GASPED AT THE FIRST SENTENCE ALREADY WAHAHAHAHHA

Thank you so much for feeding into this actually-- YOU COOKED !!

(Will be editing and adding onto this more tomorrow my time but holy shit i needed to respond to this asap)- edit#1: I have come back to rehash this even more LMAO

you can find the prev ask here !

Tw: 18+ Content beyond this point - MDNI

Simon would DO notice but he makes no moves until you're close enough to do that

Like, to the point of hanging out outside of class, exchanging phone numbers, exchanging mixtapes, exchanging cigs (exchanging spit too but thats a different point)

If you're at that point of the relationship, only then would he be protective of you and actually stand up for you

He would even protect you from the other TF 141 members if he sees you being harassed by them (but he still tries to keep it lowkey- not wanting the others to know that he's been keeping you busy and occupied that they can't play with you after classes)

All because you already promised to play with him the night before

I actually also though of reader being a bassist! (I love bass covers of songs and will always look for a bassist in the band because they are the secret carry's of a song frfr)

So if you were, you played with either a new or old band (when you moved to the new highschool)

Sometimes you would bring your instrument with you to school to shred behind the bleachers or find an unoccupied room

And, lucky him, he hears one of his favorite bands song being covered

Surprise, surprise- he finds you

Just ripping out a new one with the sleek bass of yours

Then on, he started taking more interest and actively tries finding you and where you practice

And he just so happens to catch wind of you preparing for a concert

He just so happens to be there when you have a concert

Just so happens to get lucky and get those VIP tickets

Just so happens to be one of the lucky few that gets a meet and greet with the band

He definitely will vibe with said bandmates and be invited to an after party where he drinks with everyone (he asks Johnny to hook him up in advance of course)

He doesn't even need to harrass reader because he is your number 1 fan

He already bought all of your cds-- you "just need to sign 'em", he says, as he shows up to your meet and greet

You're a bit shocked but you try to hide that giddy feeling thats threatening to burst because you feel like you'll push him away (you wouldnt be able to- he is, once again i say with a loud ass speaker, HOOKED LINED UP, AND SINKERED)

So you try to act lowkey but he's actually pissed off this, hoping you'd be more excited to see him

So he still acts gruff with you around school afterwards

And if reader is a feminine goth dommy mommy?

Oh my days-- it is over for Simon

The 180 from your outward personality being sweet and all that to just dominating him with with most disgusting and filthy words

Oof, he is down on his knees for everyday if he could

Whatever you say, he will do it

Even going against the other 141 guys

And my oh my, will he be so possessive over you that he wouldn't even dare to share the experience he gets when he has you in the privacy of his room