#and I’m just sitting there like ….ok then

[luveline]

Ok I love your post about sleep talking to Aaron, but can you imagine if reader is pregnant but hasn’t told Aaron yet and completely spills the beans in her sleepy ramblings 💙💙

thanks for requesting! <3 fem, 1.4k

“Can you take my socks off for me?”  

Aaron decides against asking why. Finds he doesn’t really care why you don’t want to do it yourself, happy to do it for you and spend a little time touching you. He sits on the end of the bed, pulling the comforter off of your feet. He slides a finger under the band of a sock and pulls it off, then the other. Pleased to hear your content sigh, he tucks you back under the blankets. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

He hears it then, the tiredness creeping into your voice. 

“Not gonna last long tonight?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

Aaron doesn’t mind. With Jack in bed already and everything that needed to be done put away, there’s nothing to do tonight but sleep. He would’ve liked to have had a few more hours with you, but you’re often tired lately. He keeps meaning to pay closer attention to your diet. Perhaps you’re eating too little or missing a necessary vitamin. 

He strips out of his sweatpants and climbs into bed. 

“Ooh, how forward, Mr. Hotchner,” you tease, your cheek to your pillow, curled and waiting for him to lay down. 

He turns out the light. “Can’t a man take off his pyjamas without such accusations?” he asks back, soft so as not to disturb his sleeping son nor his failing partner. 

Aaron shakes the sheets out over his legs, slipping onto his side in your direction. You hike your leg over his thigh. He pulls you in. 

“Why are you so tired?” he asks. 

You don’t pretend you’re not, eyes closing and forehead drifting forward. He’s content to talk to you like this. He might not be able to sleep for a while, but he won’t mind it. It’s an opportunity to see you as you are without inhibitions or distractions.

“I think it’s something in the air.” You slink your arm behind him where he’s hugged you, hand bent at an awkward angle to press into his hair. “So soft.” 

He leans down for a kiss. “If you need to sleep,” he says, pulling away only to stroke under your eye, “you can sleep, honey.” 

“No… miss you too much…” 

“I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Don’t promise if you can’t.” 

He kisses your frown. “I promise I’ll be here in the morning. Just like we talked about. Regularly scheduled days off, definite weekends, consult only if necessary. I promise, honey.” 

“I love you.” 

“I know. I love you more.” 

You’re delighted to hear it. Even with your eyes closed, he can sense the pleasure you’re feeling. You squeeze closer to his chest and begin pulling your fingers through his hair, a sensation that sends shivers down his spine with each pass. Your face falls on your pillow just under his chin and for a while you struggle, your hand trembling with the effort of stroking his hair. Soon, you’re scratching light circles into the same spot, and not long after that you’ve given in to simply having your hand there, buried without hurting. 

He turns onto his back to relieve a hip ache. He doesn’t bother pretending it isn’t a plus when you end up half atop him. 

“Aaron?” 

“Yeah?” he asks, surprised you're capable of opening your mouth. 

“Are you happy?” 

“Never so much in my life.” 

“You love me?” 

He curls an arm behind the back of your head. “You know that I do, sweetheart.” Aaron is at a crossroads of disposition; he’s always been and always will be a sensitive man, but he’s more of a shower than a teller when he can help it. He’d hope you know every inch of love he has for you, in everything he tries to do, but if you’re asking him about it he should’ve said it more. “I love you. I’m so grateful for you.” 

“I love you and Jack, and… I love our life.” 

“Me too,” he says. “Is this a precursor for something?” 

“No,” you say decidedly. Last bit of inflection, and then your tone’s lost to fatigue. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” he says, pressing his lips to your head, kissing you once, then twice. “Goodnight.” 

You curl up into him. He can feel the moment you fall into sleep, the laxness of unconsciousness and your deepening breath. You don’t usually snore for the first hour or so. He should try to fall asleep with you, but he gets distracted by the line of your upper lip. 

He really does love you. It isn’t an underestimation to say this is the happiest he’s ever been. He’ll always wonder if he deserves it, but he wants to believe now that he can earn it. You love him, so he’ll spend the rest of your lives together making sure you’re happy. He’s had some cruel wake up calls, made agonising mistakes, and maybe there are some things that can’t be forgiven. But you deserve to be loved to the fullest extent. Jack deserves to grow up feeling the same way, in a home where his dad, while staying true to who he is, actually lives there too.

You and Jack both gave him a second chance at a good life. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

Stirring, you mumble nothing. 

He shouldn’t have done that. “Shh,” he says, rubbing your back. “Shh, shh.” 

“Aaron?” 

You turn his name into a shapeless doting. 

“What, my girl?” he asks under his breath. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m sleeping.” 

“You were.” He whispers to you in the dark, struggling to resist temptation. “I was just telling you I love you, that’s all.” 

“I’m so tired.” 

“You’re more than tired lately. It’s a little concerning.”

Your sigh kisses his neck. “Well, it’s probably ‘cos of the baby, you know, they’re so… complicated to make…” 

He opens his eyes. Frowns at you, forcing some space between your two bodies. “The baby.” 

“‘Pparently the first twelve weeks are the tiredest.” You whine softly and curl into him. “Don’t move away, please...” 

He feels like he’s been shocked. The conversation about babies as a long term couple went as follows: we’ll use protection, and if the protection fails we’ll do as you like. 

Aaron, you’d said, shaking your head, We can’t just do what I want.

Genuinely and wholeheartedly, Aaron would be happy with just his Jack, and, at the same time, would adore a baby with you. So it really was up to you, knowing protection isn’t ever one hundred percent. He’d hoped he’d be more looped into that conversation when it happened, though, especially with how much has to be done, the preparations to be made, and the extra support you’re going to need. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking about everything carefully. He loves you. He wants you to have a baby if you want one, and it sounds like you do. You’re tired beyond belief trying to carry one, so this conversation can wait until tomorrow. 

“I’ve heard that too,” he says finally, kissing your forehead more forcefully than he means to. “You should rest as much as you can, honey.”

“You sound like you’re smiling,” you tease, tired, somehow missing the entire point. 

“I love you very much, that’s all. You and Jack and… and whatever else that comes.” 

—

In the morning, you wake slowly and then suddenly, your hand against his arm. He’s exhausted from a night too excited to sleep and doesn’t budge.

“Aaron…?” you ask. 

“What, honey?” he asked. 

“I… did I…” 

He deigns to remove his face from his pillow. He finds you looking down at him nervously, so beautiful then that looking at you makes him excited all over again. 

He rubs your arm. Takes your hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss your wrist. “Congratulations, honey.” 

It’s your turn to be shocked, it seems. “Oh, thank you. So I did tell you?” 

“You might’ve mentioned it.” 

“And you’re… okay with it?” 

He puts your hand to his heart, holding it gently. “I couldn’t be more in love,” he confesses. 

That helps your hesitant smile on leaps and bounds. You go smiley like you’ve eaten something sugary and laughed, summoning the sweet, inescapable ache in your jaw. “You’re sure?” you ask. 

He pulls you down by the cheek for a kiss. 

[no-144444]

wingman paul- c.leclerc

summary: charles leclerc takes a liking to you at your brothers movie premiere... paul makes it happen!

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! mescal! reader

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Did you want to go to the Gladiator 2 premiere? No, not really. Was Paul forcing you to anyways? Yes, very much so. 

Being his sister (and emotional support person), he always brought you on set, to premieres, and anywhere else. That was usually fine. The rest of his projects' premieres had either been in the Lighthouse (your favourite cinema in Dublin), or small enough that you wouldn’t get too overwhelmed. You were famous in your own right, following after your sister and writing music. You didn’t go on stage, but you’d garnered over 10 million listeners, and your album had just been nominated for a grammy, though you had no intention of going. It’s not that you were scared or shy, you were just entirely uninterested in going out in public as a ‘public figure’. It stressed you out, having people know who you are in such detail, so you just kept to yourself. You had no public social media accounts, you didn’t allow your label to post about you unless it was about the music, and you only let Paul or Nell drag you out in public for one of their events. You liked it that way, it was comfortable. 

“I’m going to go say hi to some people, you just wait here, yeah?” Paul explained as you two entered the theatre. It was huge, and every celebrity or influencer in the world must’ve been there. You nodded as he walked off and allowed yourself to fade into the background, people-watching as time passed. You noticed the beautiful architecture of the building, the way the celebrities around you mingled, the way-

“Hello.”

You whipped your head around, startled, only to be met with a face you knew quite well. “Jesus, Charles, you scared me,” you chuckled. He blushed slightly as you turned around properly to greet him. “Hi.”

“How are you?” he asked, joining you in your secluded corner. 

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” 

“I am very good,” he smiled, showing off his dimples. “I thought you didn’t like events.”

“I don’t, Paul just asked me to come,” you explained. “My mam would’ve killed me if I didn’t go, so here I am.” 

He nodded, understanding. “I tried to find you online, but… you are not a fan of that either?”

You chuckled. “No, not really. Sorry.” 

He shook his head. “No, it is ok. I just… wanted to talk more. You are very interesting to me,” he smiled. 

“Well, thank you for the glowing review,” you chuckled. “Are you enjoying the evening so far?”

“I am enjoying it a lot more with you here,” he smiled. “But yes, I only watched the first one a few days ago and I thought it was very good, so I am excited to see how this one compares.”

“You’re sure a charmer,” you chuckled. “I hope you enjoy the film. Where are you sitting?”

“Beside Carlos?” he shrugged, an awkward smile on his face. “Carlos knows, but I don’t know where Carlos is.”

You laughed. “Are you always this disorganised?”

“Only when I’m nervous,” he winked at you and the lights started going down, you just offered him to sit next to you, hoping that Nell wouldn’t mind. 

You two sat together, enjoying the movie as the night went on, and after you found yourselves at the bar, still chatting. He walked off to find Carlos at one point, looking back with a smile as he waved, promising to come back soon. 

“When are you going to realise he’s trying to flirt with you?” Paul laughed. Your face was bright red and your jaw dropped. 

You gently (roughly) hit his chest and scoffed. “Shut the fuck up. He is not.” 

Paul laughed. “He’s totally into you! Come on, go out with him, please! I want free tickets to Grand Prixs!” 

You rolled your eyes as he giggled, and then startled when you bumped straight back into Charles. “Fuck, sorry-” you started apologising but he just shook his head. 

“All good,” he smiled. 

Paul silently slipped away with a wink, and you were faced with Charles, once again. 

“Hi,” you breathed out. 

“Hi,” he chuckled, his dimples on full show. “He was right, you know.” 

“About what?” you questioned. 

“I am flirting with you-or, at least trying to,” he blushed slightly. 

“Oh,” you nodded, unsure what to do in a situation where someone was as brazen and blunt. “Right.”

He laughed. “Can I take you out sometime?”

You stared at him, total deer in headlights, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah, sounds grand. Thank you.”

You internally smacked yourself in the face for that. But he just laughed, unfazed by your awkward demeanour. 

“Great!” he smiled bashfully. “When are you free?”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 8

Summary: It's Thanksgiving, your first official holiday with Wanda. Someone stops by to create a little havoc.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

All the houses look the same, at least to him. The navigation system in his rental car isn’t any better.

Or maybe his sister gave him a fake address just to mess with him.

After a while, he decides it’s enough, pulling over when he sees someone jogging around the neighborhood.

“Excuse me”

“Hey” the woman says, stopping. Her smile is wide, and Pietro’s taken aback by how friendly she seems with a stranger.

“I’m looking for an address, can you help me out?”

“Sure”

“It’s Hill Drive 216”

“Right, well all you have to do is drive straight ahead for five blocks. Then turn right and then left” the woman says, leaning over the car window. As she’s giving directions, he can’t help but stare at her toned legs in full display.

“I really appreciate it. Maybe I can buy you some coffee to thank you?”

“Sure. See ya around” she says with a smirk, running in the opposite direction. Pietro didn’t get her number, but he figures she might know Wanda. So they’ll meet again.

In no time, he finds Wanda’s house. The woman is already sitting in the porch, as if she can feel her twin brother coming.

“This was supposed to be a surprise. You don’t look surprised”

“You asked my neighbor for my address. She called to know if you were a creep so she’d call the cops on you”

“What? She was so nice. And she’s very hot. You should have told me you had hot neighbors”

Wanda gives him a cryptic smile, but he doesn’t have time to ask the meaning behind it, as Tommy and Billy come running down the stairs.

“Uncle Pietro!”

“Bratan” he says, allowing the boys to tackle him to the ground. “You’re so big! What is your mom feeding you two?”

The boys laugh, pulling him inside so they can tell him all about school, soccer and their videogames.

A half hour later, there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it” he volunteers. To his surprise, the girl he spoke to earlier is on the other side. She’s now wearing jeans and a long sleeved sweater.

“Hey, Pietro”

“I didn’t… tell you my name”

But before he can connect the dots, Wanda walks past him, standing on her toes to kiss the woman.

“Hey, baby. Apparently you already met Pietro”

“Oh, yeah. Heard he was hoping to get a hot date out of some simple directions”

At that, his sister and her girlfriend let out a laugh, and he groans, hiding his face in his hands.

—

It was totally worth it, to see Pietro’s face as realization hit him. You were Wanda’s girlfriend.

He looks shocked, and embarrassed as you walk past him, Wanda’s hand in yours.

“At least the Maximoffs have consistency in their taste” you comment, making Wanda laugh and Pietro blushes.

“She never sent me a picture of you, ok? How was I to know?”

“I didn’t send it because I knew you’d fall for her and she is all mine” Wanda rolls her eyes, arms around your waist. You kiss her temple, smiling.

“Are you staying for Thanksgiving?” you ask, curious about his plans for the holidays.

“That’s the idea”

“You’re little buddy Rogers isn’t joining us?” you glare, so he knows you know what he tried to do.

“Oh, yeah. Heard you felt threatened by him. Still jealous, Y/N?”

“Jealous? I’m a Trauma surgeon, for goodness sake. What is your job, by the way? Snowboarding? Or do you call it snow? You know, like Ken in the Barbie movie”

“It gets me all the girl’s phone numbers” he arches an eyebrow.

“You certainly didn’t get mine”

“Stop it” Wanda laughs it off to ease the tension, standing between you two. “It’s Thanksgiving. The holidays. A time to forgive and enjoy”

“Fine,” he agrees. “Truce?”

“Not until you take the kids for a movie so we have an afternoon to ourselves” you say, because now that you’re back to work it’s been harder to get alone time with your girlfriend.

“Alright”

—

“It’s very important to me” Wanda says, stuttering lightly as you kiss down her neck.

“Of course, baby” you say, holding her hips as she tries to continue the conversation. She’s saying something against your lips, so you roll her nipple between your fingers, which makes her quiet for a few minutes.

Then, you’re between her legs when she starts talking again.

“He’s my brother, we’ve known each other our whole lives. I really want him to get to know you”

“Wanda” you sigh, defeated. You look up, with a smile at her disheveled state. “Can we not talk about your brother when I’m eating you out?”

“Sorry”

You kiss her thighs, going up to lie next to her.

“Or am I that bad at giving you head these days, baby?”

“It’s not that” she rushes to say, straddling your lap. Wanda pecks your lips to appease you, hands going up and down your arms. You squeeze her hips, encouraging her to continue. “But I mean it, I want you to get along”

“I was joking before. Mostly”

“Y/N” she whines and you smile.

“Ok, I just feel… the last time we almost broke up because he was trying to test me using Steve, right? I’m a bit butthurt about it, you know I’m proud and petty like that. And I’m not… I’ve never met someone’s family. I told you I’m not good with this relationship stuff”

“All you have to do is try” she says, leaning down to kiss you. “And absolutely nothing will break us apart, my love”

“Promise?”

“Swear” she says against your lips. You kiss her again, hands going down to her ass.

“Can I carry on now or would you like to talk about more family members?”

“Carry on” Wanda giggles when you flip her on her back, but those turn to moans pretty soon, feeling how your tongue works through her folds.

—

“Ok, guys, just like we practiced” Pietro says as he parks in the street, looking at the twins. They nod, staying inside the car while their uncle walks to the door.

“Hey, sestra… ah, seriously?!”

All he sees as he walks in is his sister’s head thrown back on the couch, and he can guess where you are.

“I thought you locked the door” Wanda reprimands you, but you just smirk, getting dressed. You make sure that only Pietro is within earshot when you smack Wanda’s ass, and she yelps.

The man is glaring when Wanda opens the door, her hair a mess and your shirt all wrinkled.

“Where are the kids? Why are they waiting in the car?”

In that moment, the twins open the car door, and you can see they are carrying a small, white dog. You want to cackle, because Pietro is so dead. But you keep a neutral expression, staying behind Wanda.

“You idiot” Wanda says, followed by a string of curses in Sokovian. You’ve never seen her this upset and it’s kinda hot.

“Come on, kids. Let’s go back to my place and bathe this little dude”

“No, please don’t leave me alone with her” Pietro pleads as Wanda pulls him by the ear.

“Sorry, I don’t want to be a witness to whatever it is she’ll do to you” you give him finger guns, hurrying back to take the kids to your place. It’s pretty obvious Wanda won’t appreciate you using her bathtub to take care of the pup.

“So, wanna tell me what happened?” you say once you’re in the bathroom.

“Well, we found Sparky outside the cinema. He was looking for food in the garbage and was so sad and alone”

“Do you think Mom will let us keep him?” Tommy says.

“Let’s take him to the vet tomorrow. Maybe he escaped home and his owners are looking for him”

The boys remain silent as you rinse the soap from Sparky’s fur. Of course, he shakes as soon as you’re done, drops of water flying everywhere. Billy and Tommy laugh, which makes you smile.

They had never brought up the subject of pets, but you have a feeling that it’s because Wanda had told them that the answer was going to be no, no matter what.

You use an old t-shirt and your blow dryer to get him all fluffy. He is a cute dog, that’s for sure.

“Come on, let’s get back home” you tell the kids, letting Tommy carry Sparky.

Pietro is in the porch, hand on his cheek as he sulks around the stairs. His ear is so red from all the pulling that Wanda did and you almost want to laugh.

“She won’t talk to me” he mumbles like a grumpy teenager.

“Jeez, I wonder why”

You walk inside, going straight to Wanda’s room. Still, you knock and let her know it’s you.

“Hey, love. Woah” as soon as you open the door she’s hugging you, and you don’t know if her tears are from anger or sadness. “I’m here, what’s wrong?”

“Pietro is so… immature! Why would he think it’s a good idea to bring a dog into my home? He is always like this. Now, I’ll have to tell the kids we can’t keep him and they will hate me”

“Wanda, they won’t hate you. Breathe for me” you run your hands up and down her back. “Here’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow I will drive with the kids to the vet, they’ll check for a microchip or anything else that tells us if he has a family”

“They always wanted a pet and I just couldn’t do it, it was too much work for one person and I…”

“And you are not alone anymore, ok? You have me. And as it happens, my family’s always had dogs. Don’t stress, leave it to me” you say, kissing her temple.

“Thank you. I’m staying here. Can you make sure the kids have dinner?”

“Of course, baby”

You make a couple of sandwiches and let the kids eat in the living room, while Sparky walks around and smells everything. It’s a good sign that he’s not peeing in every surface of the house.

Once the kids have dinner, you take the dog to the backyard, noticing the wooden fence needs some work, or Sparky will be able to escape.

Another thing on your list.

“Is Mom mad at us?” Billy asks when you’re upstairs, tucking them in. Sparky is in the corner, sleeping between Tommy’s shoes.

“Not at all, kiddo. She’s just not sure we can take care of Sparky. Dogs can be a lot of work, ya know?”

“Did you have dogs?” Tommy says from his bed and you nod.

“Yeah, we had all kinds of dogs. Big ones, small like Sparky. You have to walk them, feed them, take them to the doctor…”

“Maybe it is a lot of work” Billy says, dropping his shoulders.

“Hey, no worries, we will figure it out. Just make sure you’re nice to your mom. She just wants the best for everyone. Rest now. And Sparky doesn’t sleep on anyone’s bed, got it?”

The kids giggle at that, and you roll your eyes, knowing they’ll probably break that rule.

—

“We’re home” you announce.

“How did it go?” Wanda says, while Pietro is in the living room, pretending to read.

“No microchip. But he did get blood work and everything seems fine, we also got him dewormed and he can start with vaccination in two weeks”

“You know a lot about dogs” Pietro says, but shuts his mouth the minute Wanda turns to glare.

“So, yeah. We could call a shelter and ask if they can take him”

“But he would be in one of those cages, alone” Wanda says, sounding sad.

“I guess”

“Let’s just keep him until we figure something out” she decides, looking as the kids play with the dog in the front yard.

“Yeah, ok. We got him some kibble, plates, a new leash and a bed, so he’s all set. I’ll just have to fix the fence”

“Oh? Will you wear your tool belt?” she says, biting her lip. Pietro gags from his place in the couch. Wanda turns to scold him. “Keep it up and you’re staying in a hotel”

“Bossy. And mean. I love it” you say, pulling her closer. You share a quick, but passionate kiss.

“I could fix the fence” Pietro offers.

“You don’t even know how to drive a nail,” Wanda argues.

“I’m trying to do something nice, sestra”

“You’ve done enough”

They begin to argue like a couple of teenagers so you have to step between them, raising your hands.

“Enough. Pietro can help me when I fix the fence. We all win. Isn’t that great? Two of your favorite people working together” you say.

“Only one” Wanda says and Pietro is ready to fight when you snap your fingers.

“To your corner, Pietro” you warn him, dragging Wanda to the kitchen. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Mmm?” she melts when you rub that spot in her lower back that always relaxes her.

“I don’t think Pietro meant to do any harm with this. At most, he thought you’d end up loving Sparky more than me” Wanda laughs, and she leans against you. “He’s visiting and you’re always talking about how much you miss him, so try to forgive him”

“You’re right”

“You sound surprised,” you joke, kissing her softly. “I have work. I’ll be back tomorrow, ok?”

“Don’t leave. I know nothing about dogs” she pleads.

“I’m always one call away, love of my life” you promise.

—

Five missed calls. You sigh when you leave the OR, though it is from an unknown number.

Before you can return the call or contact Wanda to make sure she’s fine, Darcy finds you, dragging you by the hand without any explanation.

“Does this belong to you?” she says, pulling the curtain to reveal Pietro, holding an ice pack against his right hand.

“It belongs to my girlfriend”

“It? Seriously?” he complains, but Darcy ignores him.

“Came in with hammered fingers and cries every time I try to examine him”

“I will take a look. Thanks, pal” you force him to remove the ice pack, ignoring his protests. “What happened?”

“I tried to fix the fence”

“Mhm” you bend his fingers and move them around, trying to check if there’s a fracture. He complains and tries to jank his hand back, but you don’t let him.

“Can’t you take some X-Rays?”

Now, where’s the fun in that?

“Honestly, I think you’ll just have some swelling and pain. Let’s put a bandage in those three fingers and make sure you don’t move them too much”

“At least Wanda’s less mad at me”

You smile.

“Glad to hear it. Did she drive you here?”

“No, I wasn't in the mood to be lectured. I just told her I needed something from the hardware store and came straight to the ER”

You nod, writing a prescription for him. Once you’re done, you take the hand, bandaging the three fingers together.

“You know, I just worry” he interrupts the silence.

“About what?”

“Well, has she ever told you about the twins’ father?”

You glance back at him, arching an eyebrow.

“No, and I respect that. If she ever feels like telling me, I’m sure she will. So I’d appreciate it if we keep it at that, Pietro”

“I’ll just say, he was the biggest asshole. And it almost destroyed her. I promised myself no one would hurt her again”

You nod, still working in silence. Of course, the shovel talk. After the stunt he pulled with Rogers, this is nothing, really. Going along and nodding a few times might just do the trick.

“To be fair, I never liked him. You’re fine, I guess”

“I can live with being just fine in the eyes of Frosty the snowman” you mutter, finishing the bandaging and giving him some pills. “Now go back home and let me take care of the fence when I’m there”

An ambulance parks right outside of the ER and you excuse yourself. You don’t notice Pietro hanging back, watching as you help the paramedics move a woman from their gurney to a hospital bed.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re out of the OR and see a text from Wanda that you remember the incident.

Wanda: Thank you for checking Pietro.

Y/N: Happy to help the evil twin, love.

Wanda: What would that make me? The good twin?

Y/N: The hot, beautiful, angel twin.

The sound of your pager snaps you back to reality, which means the last hours of your shift will be busy.

—

“I should go and help”

“Please, don’t”

Wanda and Pietro are sitting in the backyard’s deck, watching as you fix the fence.

“Did you get Sparky as a test? To see how she’d react?”

“That is actually a great idea but no” Pietro laughs, stretching his arms. “I can’t believe you don’t remember”

“Remember what?”

“We were at school, back in Sokovia when we were five or six. The teacher asked us to draw our pet, but we didn’t have one so…”

“So you drew a dragon and said you wanted one for our birthday” Wanda suddenly remembers, frowning. “But what did I draw?”

“A white dog, with a very pink nose and fuzzy hair. And when we were at the theater, I saw him and thought, that’s my sister’s dog”

Wanda laughs, trying not to cry at her brother’s antics, wiping the corner of her eyes before she gets emotional. She reaches for his hand and he squeezes it, smiling.

“Why haven’t you told her about how you had the twins?” Pietro asks after a while, his voice soft.

“Because… I’m afraid she’ll see me differently. And I don’t know if it’s worth it, dwelling in the past. It’s done and nothing can change it”

“It’s not about dwelling in the past, it’s about sharing everything that makes you who you are. And that’s a big part of it” Pietro insists, standing up when the boys show up with Sparky. “We’re going to the park. See you for dinner”

Wanda stays on the deck, watching as you finish replacing the last wooden panel.

“I am so ready for a shower and a nap” you sigh, plopping down next to her. “At least Sparky can be out safely now”

“How can I pay for your very hard work?” Wanda says, and your hand squeezes her thigh.

“I can think of a few ways, Mrs. Maximoff. But when I’m not all sweaty”

“You’ll have to leave the toolbelt on, though” she says, making you laugh as you kiss the spot behind her ear.

You enjoy the breeze as you sit together on the deck, drinking a beer while Wanda looks out her yard.

“If I told you something, would you promise not to judge me?”

“I would never, my love” you say, putting a strand of hair behind her ear gently. “What is it?”

“It’s about the twins”

“Uh. Did Pietro put you up for this?” you click your tongue. “You don’t have to tell me anything; whatever the situation is, I imagine it’s not easy”

“I think… It would help explain why he’s so protective of me. And I want you to know, I do”

“Alright, then. I’m listening”

It takes her a moment to gather her thoughts, looking at her clasped hands.

“We met in college” she begins. “I was 20 and he was on an exchange program. Came from Oxford University, I think. We were in different faculties but somehow crossed paths at a party and got talking. It was the first time I was in love”

“He was elegant and acted like a gentleman, and said funny things without being crass. He acted differently than the rest of guys I ever tried to date. So we were together the whole semester, until winter break came. I was considering inviting him over to spend Christmas with us when he got an unexpected visit from his fiance”

You breathe deeply, knowing where this is going. Wanda still won’t look at you, and she takes a moment to continue.

“Uhm. So, yeah. The minute I saw them together I wanted to scream, but all I could do was hide. I felt like such an idiot. He didn’t even try to find me and apologize. And for a few weeks I was… sick. I threw up every morning, and felt tired. But I thought it was stress”

“Wanda, I’m so sorry” you say, pulling her close and kissing her temple. She leans against you, letting your touch ground her. Wanda’s hand goes to hold your own, and you squeeze it, trying to show your support.

“When I realized what it was, I tried talking to him. I thought he at least deserved to know. But he just wanted to give me some money to deal with it, in his words”

Those words make your heart ache, but you grit your teeth. You admire Pietro’s self control more than ever.

“I’m gonna need you to give me a name so I can find him and kill him”

“I let that go, for my sake. I had two babies to care for. No matter how it happened, I knew I always wanted them. So I told my parents everything and then Pietro, well…”

“He went crazy, I can imagine. Can’t really blame him”

“So, now you know it all. I still have things to figure out, because sometimes the kids ask me about their father and I don’t know how to tell them he never cared about us” she sighs, leaning against you.

“We’ll figure it out together, when the time comes” you promise, kissing her cheek. “And you don’t have to be afraid of me judging you, you did nothing wrong, Wands. I’m so sorry you had to go through that”

“I just thought… I wanted you to know”

“Did you ever see him again? I mean, does he even know their names?”

“No, and I hope it stays that way. If he comes back, I don’t want him anywhere near Tommy and Billy” her voice shakes with emotion, and a bit of her accent comes back.

“That’s ok. We won’t let it happen” you promise, kissing her temple.

“I love you”

“I love you too. And our boys”

“And our dog” she says, which makes you look back at her. She smiles at your shocked expression. “We’re keeping Sparky. No further comment”

“Yes, Ma’am”

—

The twins couldn’t believe it when Wanda told them they could keep Sparky. Pietro smiled as the kids hugged their mother, promising to always take care of him.

“You’re the best mom ever!” Tommy says, running around the living room.

“You’re welcome” Pietro mocks as he walks past her, and she elbows him.

You spend the evening watching a movie in the living room, Sparky sitting between both boys.

The 36 hour shift, coupled with the work on the backyard leaves you exhausted, so 15 minutes into the movie you begin to fall asleep.

“Come on, sweetheart” Wanda says when your head keeps loling to the side. “You need to rest”

“No, but I wanna know what happens with Big Welder” you mumble. Wanda stands up, kissing your forehead and pulling you all the way to the stairs. After brushing your teeth and almost sleeping while standing up, you plop down in bed, taking everything off and deciding to sleep in nothing but your underwear.

“Very tempting” Wanda comments when she sees you.

“I thought you’d be watching the movie” you stretch, appreciating how Wanda’s eyes linger on your breasts.

“Uh, they started playing video games. So that was my cue to go” she crawls into bed with you, not ready to go to sleep but wanting to share some alone time. “Before I forget, who are you inviting for Thanksgiving?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, dinner. We’re having turkey, the Barton’s are stopping by…. You do know it’s this Thursday, right?”

“I haven’t had a Thanksgiving dinner in like 15 years”

“You’re kidding” Wanda says, and you shrug your shoulders.

“I started volunteering when I was 16 to avoid being home. And you know I rarely went back for that stuff. I think the most I’ve done is eat pizza with Darcy while we’re working”

“Well, Darcy should come too! Have her over, I only get to see her at the hospital”

“You sure?” you say, smiling nervously. All you know about holidays in the last decade has been the chaos of a hospital.

“Yeah. It’s gonna be great, you’ll love it” she promises, kissing you.

—

Chaos isn’t exclusive to the ER, it seems. You’ve had a busy morning, mowing the lawn, cleaning the deck and getting ready to set a large table for everyone who’s joining. To your annoyance, Pietro is using his bruised hand as an excuse to not help.

“You’re doing great” he gives you a thumbs up and you want to throw the broom straight to his head.

“You could help your sister in the kitchen” you say, wiping the sweat from your forehead and coming to look over his shoulder. “Tinder? Seriously?”

“Yeah, check this out” he says, showing you some of the matches he’s had.

“Oh, wow” you whistle at a picture of a blonde woman in a bikini. You’re about to comment something else when you hear a cough behind you. Of course, Wanda is staring, her signature head tilt letting you know you’re in danger.

“I mean, oh, wow, what a horrible, unattractive person. Blegh. So not my type” you say, pretending to gag.

“I’m only letting it slide because it’s Thanksgiving” she warns and you nod.

“Yes, love. I’m sorry”

Pietro snorts and you turn to slap the back of his head.

“Sestra, are you gonna let her do that to your brother?”

“Yes” Wanda says, leaning forward to snatch his phone. “Come help me in the kitchen. Now”

“You know, I’m twelve minutes older” he says as they go back inside.

Once you’re done with mowing and picking up the dry leaves, you set a table across the backyard and some lights for extra decoration. Hoping the kids won’t look, you set up a trampoline you know they’ve been asking for.

“Alright, come supervise” you ask Wanda, and for some reason the entire Maximoff entourage follows behind.

“It looks amazing!” she says, inspecting the lights you installed. “I love these”

“I know. I may have stalked your Pinterest board, @witchy16”

“Billy, look!” Tommy points at the trampoline, running to try it out, his brother close behind.

“Be careful” Wanda warns. “I’m not sure I love that”

“They can use it only when I’m around” you promise, turning to her. “That way I can get more alone time with my girl”

Wanda laughs, but the sound is drowned out by your lips on hers, and your hands travel south to squeeze her ass.

“I’m right here!” Pietro complains, which makes you smirk.

“I didn’t see you, sorry” Wanda says.

“I did” you smile, earning a slap on the shoulder from your girlfriend. Something pings in the kitchen, so she excuses herself.

“You know, we usually save the presents for last”

“What presents? This isn’t Christmas” you say.

“People give each other presents during Thanksgiving too. Isn’t it obvious? How do you give thanks to someone? You get them something” he insists, which makes you doubt yourself. Pietro leaves to join the twins on the trampoline.

Maybe he’s right. What if Wanda got you something and after everything she’s done to make sure you enjoy this holiday, you have nothing to give back.

Fuck.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you done in the backyard?” Wanda says when you walk in.

“I… yeah. Do you want me to do anything else?”

“No, that’s fine. I’m just letting everything in the oven for now. Come sit” 

“Actually… I need to go check something” you lie, feeling awful about it. But you have to get her a present.

“At the hospital?”

“Yes. I won’t take long, I promise” you say when she looks disappointed. “I’ll be back in an hour and I’ll help with whatever’s missing” 

“I just want us to spend time together,” she smiles, taking your hands. You lean forward, kissing her. “Oh, and call Darcy, I just want to confirm she’s coming”

“Yes, my love” 

Pretending to be super calm, you walk to your car. You only let panic take over when you’re driving around, finding the traffic to be awful. Seems like people always leave everything for the last minute, and you hate yourself for not thinking about this sooner.

You can’t let Wanda down.

Darcy’s the only person who can help out, so you call her while you try to find a place to park.

“Hello”

“Hey. Wanda wanted to confirm you’re coming to dinner”

“I am, only for the amazing food. But the hospital will page me if there’s an emergency so don’t expect me to stay for long”

“Got it. By the way, did uh, your family happen to give each other presents during Thanksgiving?”

“No, they only get drunk and yell at each other. Why? Do I have to bring a present? Because then I’m out”

“No, that was just me being stupid, never mind. See you at seven”

You hang up, leaving the car to walk around the shops. Most of them are closed, because of course, it’s a holiday. The only places still working are supermarkets. So, what? Will you have to get your perfect girlfriend toilet paper and say “happy holidays”?

After walking down several blocks, you finally find a jewelry store open. 

“Welcome. How can I help you?” a woman says.

“Hi. I can’t believe you’re open at this time of day” you comment, looking around the store. Wanda never really wears bracelets, or earrings. Necklaces, yes. Though they’re always very discreet. 

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who have to buy a peace offering for the holidays” 

“Huh”

“Or last minute engagements” 

“Oh. That’s definitely not the case” you smile, and something behind the woman catches your eye. “That’s a nice pearl necklace”

The woman puts on her sales hat, telling you every detail about the very elegant, very real pearls and how it is an absolute must for any woman. It honestly doesn’t take a lot of convincing. It’s beautiful and you remember how Wanda mentioned she always wanted one, but considered it a bit of a silly expense with two kids and no real use for it.

“I’ll take it” 

“You don’t want to look at the price?”

“I imagine it’s those four figures there”

“Yes”

“Yeah. That’s fine. I’m a trauma surgeon” you explain with a smile, feeling a little smug. 

“She’s a lucky lady”

You don’t really agree, considering this is very last minute. For the twins, you decide to take some of the Christmas presents you started to buy for them and store at your house.

And as much as Pietro annoys you, you’ll have to get him something too. 

Looking at the time, you decide to keep shopping for a bit longer, hoping no one notices if you’re gone too long. 

Wanda definitely notices. By the time you come back home, you’re sneaking around with a few boxes but she comes out of the kitchen.

“Where have you been?” 

Her tone makes you jump, and you look at her with wide eyes.

“I…”

“Doesn’t matter. I need you to go to the supermarket and get me some boxes of mac and cheese for all the kids. And a few bottles of wine, in case Laura and Clint stay longer” 

“Ok” you say, wishing she had called you since you were around the supermarket not long ago. 

By the time you finish all her errands, it’s four and you’ll only have an hour or two to rest. 

“Hey, here’s everything you asked for” you greet with a smile, hoping Wanda is less stressed now.

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I think the Bartons aren’t even staying for dinner so I made you go for no reason, I’m sorry”

“It’s ok” you say, putting your arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“I want this to be perfect. For you to know that having a family is nice so you won’t…” she trails off, trying not to look at you.

“So I won’t, what?”

“So you won’t leave. It’s silly”

“Hey, I’d never leave… sorry” you grumble, looking at your phone and ignoring the call.

“If you need to pick up...”

“It’s just my landlord asking about the lease renewal” you roll your eyes which makes her laugh. “As I was saying, I don’t need a perfect Thanksgiving as a reason to stay. I love you. That’s it”

“I love you too” she smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. With your hands on her cheeks, you deepen the kiss, enjoying how she sighs against your lips when your tongue darts out. Then, your hands travel south to squeeze her ass, encouraging her to put her legs around your waist. 

“Hey, can we…? Ugh, not again” Pietro says, covering his eyes. “We’re thirsty”

Without dropping Wanda, you go through the stuff in the fridge and hand him some drinks.

“We’ll be upstairs, don’t go up in… 20 minutes” you say, making Wanda giggle.

“You guys are gross,” Pietro complains, crashing against the table as he keeps his eyes closed.

“Come on, let’s make those 20 minutes count” you say, carrying Wanda to the bedroom.

—

The Bartons arrive at 7, just like Wanda told them to. Sparky is the main attraction, as all the kids coo and aw at the funky little dog that loves all the attention.

“Pietro, nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you” Laura says.

“Only good things, I hope”

“That must have been a short conversation” you laugh at your own joke, while Pietro glares.

The kids run around the yard as Laura and Wanda chat, Clint handing over Nathaniel to you while Pietro talks about his job.

Darcy shows up a little later, and you make your rounds, introducing her to everyone that hasn’t met her yet. 

“You again” she says when her eyes land on Pietro. 

“What? You’ve heard a lot about me too?” 

“Yeah, mostly bad shit”

“Bad word” all the kids turn to point at her, and she facepalms.

“Fuck”

“Two bad words!” Cooper says. Laura covers Lila’s ears, though she is laughing. You clasp your hands over Darcy‘s mouth because you know she can keep going forever.

“Kids, have you tried going on our brand new trampoline? You can take Sparky with you” that gets them distracted enough, running away to the backyard. “There. Don’t worry, it took me a minute to get used to the no swearing”

“This is why I don’t hang out at PG-13 events. Anyways, I brought some stuff to make pumpkin cocktails and guacamole. Help yourselves” Darcy says, holding a bag of tortilla chips.

“Nobody eats guacamole at Thanksgiving” Pietro says. 

“They do if they’re Mexican. We can pretend. I’ll call you Pedro all night long” Darcy says just to annoy him. “Plus, this is all I can make” 

“Are all surgeons bad cooks?” Wanda teases, and you’re dumb enough to answer honestly.

“Not all! Carol is actually a great… huh” you scratch the back of your neck at Wanda’s glare. 

“Someone’s in trouble,” Pietro guesses.

“Yeah” Wanda tilts her head, making you smile weakly. 

“I’m making cocktails” Darcy interrupts everyone, dragging you to the kitchen. For a while, you talk about some patients that arrived during the day, but it was still a strangely calm shift at the hospital. It was usually busy during dinner or after that some people got injured, while driving back home. 

“Take this to Wanda, that will make her forget that Carol comment” 

Approaching slowly, you put the drink in front of your girlfriend, who takes a sip and then coughs.

“Wow, what is this?” she laughs, the alcohol strong enough to knock her off her feet.

“A fire hazard” Clint comments, able to smell it across the table. Still, Wanda sips on the drink and nods, enjoying the taste.

“Go easy, Miss Maximoff” you joke, which makes her smile.

“I still remember why I’m mad at you”

“Then forget what I said, take these like tequila shots”

“Carol is an ex,” Pietro says, putting together the information. 

“As in Carol Danvers? Nice” Clint comments, earning a slap on the arm by Laura.

“Thread carefully” 

“Ah, jeez. Look what you made me do” Clint laughs, looking at you.

“Pumpkin cocktail for Laura coming right up”

“I’ll bring it, I have to check the turkey” Wanda says, slightly slurring her words. 

“If you go anywhere near the oven, leave that thing here” Clint points out, not wanting to put out fires on his day off.

You take Wanda’s place, sipping casually on the rest of her drink. Everyone stares as you don’t even make a face to the amount of alcohol on it.

“We’ve known each other since college” you explain. ”So this is just like drinking water”

While you keep chatting in the backyard, Darcy and Wanda are both in the kitchen, your friend making herself a drink while Wanda turns off the oven to get the turkey ready.

“Want another cocktail?” she says, pushing a glass towards Wanda. The woman grabs it, sipping again. The sweet taste of the pumpkin hides a bit of the alcohol, so the punch isn’t hitting quite yet. 

“Listen, I know your brother already gave my friend the shovel talk” 

“Really? When?” Wanda says, a little too loudly. 

”Back in the hospital. And I had to hold off on mine because you were always in my territory and I didn’t want to seem like a bully. However, now is the time to tell you… she’s my best friend, has been since college. Life hasn’t been particularly fair and her mother certainly didn’t help, though I’m sure she’s made it seem like no big deal, but Y/N really does deserve someone nice and kind. So don’t break her heart. Under any circumstance”

“I’m not planning to, Daisy” Wanda nods her head, her thoughts a little fuzzy.

“Nobody plans to hurt someone they love. And I’m Darcy”

“I’m a little drunk” Wanda clicks her tongue, leaning on Darcy as they go back to the backyard. 

“Everything ok, love?” you say when Wanda comes back, and to your surprise, she sits on your lap instead of a chair.

“These things are strong. A couple more and I’ll consider doing that thing you wanted to try in bed”

“Oh, dear God” you blush, while Clint, Laura and Darcy whistle. Pietro covers his ears, gagging. “No more cocktails for you… at least with the kids around”

The Bartons stay a little while longer, eating and drinking until Lila and Cooper approach Clint.

“Can we get a dog?”

“That’s our cue to go” he sighs, standing up.

“Please, we want one!” Lila insists, and you laugh at Clint’s defeated expression.

“We’ll see” he compromises. “Come on, we gotta stop by at your grandparents”

They leave, thanking you for the food and you promise to take the twins and Sparky to play at the farm very soon.

Pietro finally gets off his ass to bring the turkey, which looks absolutely delicious. He carves it, saving the biggest piece for his sister.

“I love Thanksgiving” you say, enjoying what’s probably the best meal you’ve ever had.

“Me too” Darcy agrees, getting seconds and thirds of everything. Truth be told, you never get to sit around and eat as much as you like so this is a total luxury for a workaholic doctor.

As you’re finishing up, Wanda takes out a pecan pie. 

“I’m in heaven” Darcy comments upon the first bite.

On the other hand, you cannot hold back a moan, which makes Wanda bite her lip, one of her hands going to squeeze your thigh. 

“Hey, quick question, will you marry me?” Darcy says to Wanda and you elbow her.

“Right in front of my pecan pie?”

“I’m just saying, if you don’t, I will”

“She better get a ring then” Wanda says, smiling at you. Your mind goes back to the woman at the shop, telling you about those last minute engagements.

Surprisingly, Pietro is the one that changes the subject.

“You know what I always find funny? How the flavor makes my throat all tingly. And my tongue numb”

Everyone looks at him in silence, until Darcy speaks.

“That’s an allergic reaction”

“What? No” Pietro dismisses her point.

“It is” you insist, which earns another hand gesture from the man. “Oh, you’re right, what do we know? We only went to medical school”

“You’re so dumb” Wanda says, laughing and holding her sides. “You’ve been allergic our whole lives? Oh, my God!”

“Very funny, sestra. But now you can’t make this anymore”

“Hey, eat a granola bar or something” Darcy snaps, getting a second slice. “Why should we pay the price for your weakness?”

“Let’s finish the pie so he doesn’t get an allergy” you tease.

Darcy and you keep eating while Pietro is instructed to clean up the table and load the dishwasher. As the celebration ends, Darcy goes back home with tons of leftovers.

“I’ll walk you out ” you say, accompanying your friend. As you’re chatting, your phone rings again.

“Your mother?” Darcy guesses when you ignore the call. You click your tongue, putting the phone back in your pocket. “Let me guess, she’s calling for the usual wish you were here bullshit while never calling in advance”

“Yeah, that’s our thing. This year I’m not in the mood to do it, though”

“Well, she’ll hopefully get the hint” Darcy’s pager goes off and she sighs. “There it is”

“Want me to tag along?”

“It’s fine. I’ll call if it gets too crazy. Bye, pal”

You wave as she drives away, walking back with Sparky. For a second, you feel guilty and think about calling your mother back, but this day has been perfect and you don’t want to ruin it.

“Hey, kiddos, did you have fun?” you ruffle Tommy’s hair when you get home, getting Sparky his dinner.

“Yeah, it was awesome!”

“Well, you better check your rooms because I got you a little present”

As usual, Tommy is faster, but Billy is right behind him, both of them shouting excitedly.

“What is all that noise?” Wanda says, alarmed.

“Just following tradition” you explain with a smile, waiting for the kids to open their presents.

“What tradition?” Wanda says, looking confused.

“Thanksgiving presents”

Then you hear it. Pietro snorts a laughter from his spot in the kitchen.

Motherfucker.

“I’m gonna kill you, Evil Twin” you say, going straight to where he’s standing. Pietro runs around the kitchen island, putting distance between you two.

“Stop it, you two!” Wanda says, hands on her hips.

“Sorry, love. But he’s got it coming” you throw a towel his way, and take advantage of the distraction to jump over the counter, falling on top of him.

“Cool!” Billy says, watching as you have Pietro in a headlock.

“How are you so strong?” he complains, unable to free himself.

“I’m in the ER, do you really think I don’t have to deal with drunk assholes?”

“Enough!” Wanda shouts, pulling you by the belt loop of your pants until you’re off balance. “Explain” she asks standing between you two.

“He told me you gave each other presents during Thanksgiving!”

“We love ours!” Tommy says, showing the stands for their controls. You smile, fixing your shirt.

“Well, you’re the only ones getting one. Your uncle is definitely not”

“You got me something?”

“Yes, and it was a damn good present” you smile, knowing the curiosity will drive him crazy.

“Come on, can I have it?”

“No” Wanda and you say at the same time.

You make fun of him, and then Wanda tilts her head.

“Did you get me something?”

“Of course I did” you pat the back of your jeans, finding the necklace box there. “Here”

Wanda’s eyes widen as soon as she opens it, her hand covering her mouth.

“What? You don’t like it? I can return it. Or maybe I can’t. But you don’t have to wear it” you rant, afraid that it’s too much for a tradition that isn’t even real.

“Sweetheart, stop” she says, smiling. “I-I love it. Thank you”

“Well, I love you” you lean forward, letting her kiss you. Billy and Tommy protest at the contact, something that they have unfortunately picked up from their uncle.

“Can I have my present? Please?” Pietro says.

“No, wait until Christmas” you say.

“And for this little joke you’re gonna clean the kitchen” Wanda says, pointing at all the dirty pots and pans.

“My joke got you a pearl necklace”

“Chop, chop, Pietro” she ignores him, pushing the kids upstairs so they can get ready for bed. “You two stink, go and take a shower”

“Where do you want me, Bossypants?” you joke, standing next to her.

“Mhm” she smiles, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “You like it when I’m bossy?”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Then go shower too. And stay in bed. You were running around all day”

“Wanna join me in the shower?”

“I’ll help Pietro clean. Or we’ll never hear the end of it” she says, smiling when you pull her close, kissing her cheek.

“Don’t be long”

By the time Wanda comes up, you’re asleep, wearing nothing but shorts and a t-shirt.

The gentleness of her lips against your neck wakes you up with a shudder, and you bring your hand to rub up and down her back.

“Are you done with cleaning?” you say, trying not to yawn. Wanda’s teeth, marking the spot between your shoulder and neck jolt you awake. “Baby?”

“You always give me so much. I want to thank you” she says, moving down your lap. You lean on your elbows, unsure if you’re understanding what she’s saying.

“Wanda?” you’re about to ask something else, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel her rubbing her nose against your clit through your shorts. “I… uh…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong” you say, having trouble breathing when she pulls down your shorts, revealing you’re not wearing any underwear.

“Perfect” Wanda smiles, leaning down. You can tell she’s hovering, teasing you with anticipation. Even when she kisses the inside of your thighs, it feels heavenly.

You make the mistake of looking down, and Wanda’s eyes meet yours. She has a predatory smirk on her face, one you’ve never seen before. She knows how much you want this, she can see it, smell it. You’re about to plead for her to continue when she goes down, tongue licking a strip down your center.

“Fuck” you say, your legs instantly going to close around her head. You’re so sensitive and she’s sucking on your clit with such abandonment. Wanda lets you ride her face, enjoying the feeling of your juices coating every inch of her chin.

When you’re close to coming, she manages to pull free of your hold, pushing her hair back. Her chest is heaving, face glistening with your arousal.

“Wha-“ she doesn’t let you finish, pulling down her own shorts, and crawling on top of you.

“I want you to come with me” she sighs against your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. Her pussy comes in contact with yours, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel her wetness.

“Be quiet for me” she hisses, though there’s certain tenderness in her voice. Her palm covers your mouth, and Wanda only moves when you nod, pushing her hips against yours.

“Wanda” you plead, not knowing exactly what you’re after. Even though she’s also getting pleasure out of this, she’s still very much in control, keeping you steady as she rocks her hips, setting the pace.

As your breathing quickens, Wanda picks up the pace, and your arm snakes around her waist, pulling her closer until she drops her body on top of yours, moving and panting next to your ear.

“I’m close” you breathe, and the way she bites down your neck is what pushes you over the edge, letting out a groan and a string of curse words that would put your best friend to shame.

Wanda’s release follows, and you let her dig her nails in your shoulders as she comes. She relaxes against your chest, her heart slowing down as you run your hand up and down her back.

You don’t need to look to know there’s a mess of sheets and clothes around you. Wanda is too far gone to care, the intensity of her orgasm and the exhaustion of the day making her doze off.

“Can we make this into a tradition?” you whisper against her temple. She laughs, cuddling against your side.

“Totally”

—

Wanda: Hey

Y/N: Hey, gorgeous

Wanda: Miss you

Y/N: Miss you more.

Y/N: Thinking about that mindblowing orgasm too.

“Someone got laid for Thanksgiving” Carol reads over your shoulder and you huff.

“Mind your business, Danvers”

“Darcy said it was the best meal of her life. What do we have to do to get invited next year?” she says as you walk down the hospital halls.

“Go back in time and not sleep with me”

“Damn. Wanda’s still jealous? Would it change if I’m a married gal?”

“You set a date?” you stop Carol, excited to hear more.

“Your invitation should be in the mail soon”

“Congrats!” you smile, pulling her for a hug.

“There’s one more thing… I was wondering if you’d be my maid of honor…”

The request catches you completely off guard. Carol had been your friend since you arrived at the hospital, but considering everything that happened, you’d figure Maria wouldn’t be comfortable with that.

“I mean… I would love to, but Maria”

“She’s fine with it. Understands it was just a distraction”

“Aww, that makes me feel so special” you put your hands over your chest, sighing dramatically.

“You know what I mean” Carol says, making you walk to the ER. “So, you in? You’ll have to do dress fittings. Organize a bachelorette party. Make sure I’m there on time”

“Fine, yes. Oh, did I mention we got a dog?”

On the way to the ER, you show Carol a bunch of pictures of Sparky, and she’s still obsessing over his funky hair when you find Kate, finishing some charts.

“How was your night, Bishop?”

“A bit crazy. Some accidents on the road, and cuts with kitchen knives… but it’s been pretty quiet now”

Carol gasps and you want to scream.

“Don’t say the q word, Bishop” you plead.

“Why?”

Two ambulances park right outside and you nod towards them.

“That’s why”

True to the lore, the word quiet attracts a wave of emergencies and freak accidents that take up most of your shift.

That’s not what has you on the edge of a nervouse breakdown, though.

During your first break of the night, you answer a text from Wanda, telling her you’ll be sure to be there for Pietro’s dinner tomorrow, as he’s finally leaving on Monday morning.

No one ever leaves a voicemail so you check out the notification, and you wish you hadn’t.

“For someone who works in the ER, you sure as hell aren’t around for family emergencies” your mother says. “Well, it’s not really an emergency, but you get my point. We’re gonna be in town, Jane’s probably applying to Westview university next year. Call me when you can, it would help if you give us a tour around the city. And pick up the damn phone, it’s Thanksgiving”

Kate finds you in that moment, making you jump out of your seat.

“You wanted me to…”

“Follow up with the patient in 403, yes. I’m going out for a while. Call me if it’s urgent”

The first thing you want to do is throw your phone away, but you settle for walking to a nearby store, looking for a pack of cigarrettes and a lighter. If you didn’t have a shift to go back to, you’d certainly get a bottle of cheap booze.

As you sit on the sidewalk, your hands tremble when you light up a cigarrette. It’s been ten minutes and you’re through the third one when Darcy stops by.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Since you can’t find the strenght to explain it, you hand over your phone. Your friend physically recoils at the sound of your mother’s voice, that’s how much she dislikes her.

“I’m sorry” Darcy says, sitting next to you. “She might not even make time to see you, she’s probably just pretending, like with every holiday”

“It’s not just that, Darcy. What if Jane goes to Westview University? I’m going to… I’m going to be worrying about whether or not she’ll be around. If her daughter needs anything, she’ll call me, if something goes wrong and I don’t find a way to fix it immediately, I’ll be the screw up of a daughter who never cares about her family. I’m gonna have to move, there’s just no way I can…”

“Slow down” Darcy sits next to you, her hand on your shoulder. Her touch helps you stay calm, and you breathe slowly. “That’s a massive if. You don’t know if it’s happening. And we’re both very much aware that you could do everything your mother asks and it still wouldn’t be enough. Don’t let her control you”

“I don’t know how” you admit, your voice breaking down.

“That’s ok” Darcy pulls you in, hugging you. “We’ll figure it out. Or just take her to the nastiest places in town, she’ll never let Jane come here again”

You let out a laugh at that, wiping your tears.

“I love you, friend” you say, feeling exhausted.

“Ugh, you always get so emotional when that witch is lurking around. Careful or you’ll end up proposing to Wanda”

“I don’t want my mother anywhere near Wanda. If she says anything hurtful to her, I swear to God she’ll really regret the minute she pushed me out of her fucking insides”

“Damn, bitch, now that’s the fire I want to see in you” Darcy claps, pulling you up. “Come back inside. Heard it’s been non stop since your minion summoned the entire city”

“Yeah, she said the q word”

“Queef” Darcy sighs and you cackle.

“Sassy queef”

—

The last thing you want to do when your shift is over is have dinner and be social, but you promised Wanda.

So you walk through the door with a smile on your face and some flowers for your girlfriend. Wanda greets you with a kiss, but quickly pulls apart.

“Did you smoke?”

“Uh…”

Seems like the entire pack of gum after smoking for the last 48 hours didn’t do the trick.

“Yes, sorry. I’ll go use some mouthwash and change clothes”

“Hold on” Wanda pulls your hand, looking at you. “What’s wrong? You only smoke if you’re stressed”

“Sestra!” her brother calls, and you’re actually grateful for the interruption.

“I’ll tell you later. Pietro needs your help”

Thankfully the conversation centers on the other Maximoff and his plans for the upcoming weeks, now that the conditions seem more favorable for snowboarding.

You ask a question here and there, but mostly keep to yourself, eating the chicken paprikash and drinking wine. Yeah, you definitely drink a couple of glasses to keep your cool.

If Wanda notices, she keeps it to herself once again.

“Well, sounds like you’ll be needing a pair of brand new gloves” you say to Pietro at one point, taking out a box from behind the tv. “Hidden in plain sight”

“She’s a keeper!” he exclaims when he notices the fine material. “I’m definitely coming back for Christmas now”

“Hey, you better get me something nice too”

You’re halfway the second bottle of wine when everyone’s done with dinner, and the kids are debating between going for ice cream or watching a movie. It’s safer to stay in the kitchen, cleaning everything and hoping you can excuse yourself early.

Truth is, you really want to drink until you pass out but that would raise too many questions with Wanda.

“They settled on Jumanji” Wanda announces when you’re drying your hands.

“Mmkay. I’ll take Sparky out for his walk then” you volunteer, rushing to get his leash before she can ask anything else.

The cold air makes you sober up a little, remembering what Darcy told you.

Don’t let her control you, don’t let her ruin your life.

You’ve told Wanda your relationship with your mother is not the best, but how could you possibly explain that’s a wild understatement?

“Isn’t that the cutest dog?” Agatha greets Sparky, who wags his tail. “What’s their name?”

“Sparky”

“Oh, wow” Agatha waves her hand in front of her nose. “Booze and cigarrettes, did you have fun at the casino?”

“Uh…”

“Come on, I’ll get you a special tea. It always helps”

She rushes you to her porch, making you sit while Sparky is on your lap, comfortably napping.

“One cup of “specialty”. Hah! Get it? Special tea, specialty”

“Very clever… oh, wow! Does this have peppermint?”

“Yes, clever girl”

“My grandmother grew peppermint on her front yard. I always loved the smell of it… even the taste when she made tea” you smile, sipping slowly.

“Everything ok, kiddo?” she asks after a beat of silence.

“No, not really”

“Well, I’m here if you want to…” your neighbor says, petting Sparky.

“I mean, thank you, but I feel like I don’t have a lot of people to tell this to, without being judged. Because you know what it is? I fucking hate my mother, Agatha”

To your surprise, the woman let’s out a loud laugh.

“Oh, honey, please. Tell me about it. My mother was a witch”

“Is that figuratively or…”

“I mean, who knows. She was evil, that’s for sure” Agatha rolls her eyes, and then looks at you. “Yeah, I get it. Most people say that you have to love your family, just because you share blood. Blood is thicker than water, they say. Meanwhile, they don’t know the full phrase is the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”

“Is that so?”

“Trust me, I know” Agatha nods. “My mother would tell me I was evil, I was bad. Just rotten to the core, in her own words.”

“I’m so sorry”

“Darling, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. You have your own family with the Brady bunch over there.”

“I guess a part of me still believes she’ll apologize”

“Don’t hold your breath. And if she doesn’t, it still doesn’t mean you did something to deserve her shit”

“Thank you, Agatha”

The woman pats your leg, smiling.

“My love, are you coming back to bed?” a voice says from the inside of her house and you almost snap your neck looking back.

“Coming, Rio”

“I had no idea I was interrupting, I’ll leave right now” you stutter, carrying Sparky down the steps of the woman’s porch.

“Don’t sweat it, hot stuff. She needed a break after everything we just did” Agatha winks.

“Good talk, bye Agatha, bye Rio” you wave your hand, running back home all flustered.

The kids are with their uncle watching tv when you go inside. You let Sparky go so he can sit on the couch with them, and go upstairs to get changed and sleep.

Once you’re settling in bed, Wanda pushes the door open, eyeing you curiously.

“Sweetheart” is all she says. It’s both a question and an affirmation.

“It’s been a long day” you admit, too tired to pretend you’re ok, but also not in the mood to explain everything.

Maybe your mother won’t even come, and you’ll have shown Wanda how broken and fucked up you are for no reason. She doesn’t need to know it. Not now, at least.

“Let me help” she offers, climbing on your lap, kissing every inch of your face. You hold on to her waist, digging your fingers in her flesh. “I love you”

“I know. I love you too” you smile, finally connecting her lips with yours. She’s meant to comfort you with her touch, not wanting to start something else, because everyone’s downstairs. But when you swipe your tongue across her bottom lip, Wanda lets out a groan, nails scrapping your scalp as you deepen the kiss.

“Please” you say, switching positions so she’s on her back, you on top. You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but she can sense your desperation, holding on to your shoulders.

“It’s ok. I’m here. Use me, love. Take me”

Those words spurr you on, making you go down to kiss her neck, unbuttoning her shirt and leaving a trail of marks all the way to her hips. You desperately pull at her pants, immediately going down on her, your touch impatient as Wanda covers her mouth to keep quiet.

“Please” she manages to ask, and you give her more, stretching her with two of your fingers. “More”

You’re happy to comply, adding another digit and working them in and out of her clenching cunt, while you go back to meet her lips in a messy kiss.

“I fucking love you” you say against her mouth, and that sends Wanda over the edge, arousal gushing out of her with each of your final thrusts.

“I was… supposed to make you feel better” she says, trying to catch her breath.

“Oh, trust me. You did”

Wanda laughs, looking at you lovingly while you kiss her temple.

“I love you too” she says when your lips meet hers for a quick kiss.

“I know. I’m very lovable”

Her laugh makes you forget all the bad shit you’ve been carrying with you for the last day and a half.

—

“Take care, brat” Wanda says, her arms going around her brother. “See you soon”

“Yes” he then says something in Sokovian, making Wanda laugh.

“Do you guys know what they’re saying?” you approach Billy and Tommy.

“No, mama hasn’t taught us any Sokovian”

“We think it’s so they can say bad words without getting caught”

“Huh”

“What is all that mumbling I’m hearing?” Wanda says, making you stand straight.

“Nothing” the three of you say at the same time, making her laugh.

“Relax, sestra. You two, be good while I’m gone. And if you’re not good…”

“Be careful” they finish the sentence, laughing.

“And you…” Pietro points at you. Wanda is about to intervene, thinking he’s about to give you another shovel talk. but you wink at her, smiling. “Welcome to the family”

“Thank you, Evil Twin. See you at Christmas”

“You’re dressing up as Santa this year” he says in a low voice and you laugh.

The man gets in his car, waving goodbye one last time.

“Alright, you two, we’re gonna be late for school” Wanda says, and the routine slips you back to reality.

“Hey” you say, pulling her close to you. Before she can answer, you kiss her, hands on her cheeks. She squeezes your wrists, smiling. “Do I really have to be Santa?”

“We’ll see” she laughs, kissing you once again. “Come on. We got a busy day ahead of ourselves”

You smile, letting her take you back home.

Whatever happens next, you just need Wanda to get through it.

[aajjks]

The conqueror (XXIII.)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader

warnings: yándèrè, DÁRK TRÍGGÈRÍNG THÈMÈS, dárk óbsèssíòn, cràzy júngkòòk, dèprèssíón, 18+ thèmès, íntènsè thèmès, kórèàn tràdítíòns, àttèmpt át súícídè, NÓNCÔN KÍSSÍNG, TÓUCHÏNG, lüst, sèxúàl thèmès,

note. YALLLL This chapter is my best one yet I am so proud. Also, just a warning I have copy pasted some of the Korean traditional stuff from Google so I’m just telling you guys in advance and if you have any questions ask or anything to tell me just come into my inbox because this chapter is a terrifying. And sooooo sexy 🥵🥵🥵 undeniably, sexy… I have no words, but please please please share your feedback. OK I love you guys. Enjoy.

series masterlist

taglist: @mageprincess7 @starsggukk @sprinkleoftee @koremis @minshookie29 @sana-b @bangtannoonalvg @oonaaurora @jeonsweetpea @sugaslittlekookies @outro-kook @kthyg @lunaashes @debicaptain-saturn @laurynne5 @captainsjoongs @myblackconfessions @lanalanexpjm @namjooncrabs @shadowmoon21 @kookunot @natalie-rdr @angelicasdre @iwasfuckinginnocentonce @mermaidtea @foulnightharmony @ungodlyjoon @quechulitaaa @telepathytae @silversparkles11 @j3alous-ang3l @bunzom @1-in-abillion @breadgeniedope @jiminie-08 @artgukk @lovesthetword @bunijmin @pinkcherrybombs @afangirllikeme-blog @twilight-love-nochu-main @wedarkacademia @hollxe1 @bighitfics @darkuni63 @golden-thv @investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @koocreampie (I can’t tag anymore people, it’s full 😭😭)

The air feels heavy, oppressive, as if the entire palace is holding its breath in anticipation of this day. Your wedding day. The day your life is to be bound forever to the man you hate most in this world. You sit in your chambers, unable to bring yourself to look in the mirror. The room is alive with movement, court ladies bustling around you, adjusting every detail of your appearance as though they’re preparing a lamb for slaughter.

The silk of your hanbok feels suffocating, its intricate embroidery weighing you down. The deep crimson and golden hues, symbols of purity and virtue, mock you with every thread. This is not a union of love. This is a chain, cold and unyielding, tying you to a man who thrives on blood and power.

“Perfect, my lady,” the seamstress finally declares, stepping back to admire her work. Her smile is full of pride, but it feels hollow.

Nothing about today is perfect.

“How fortunate you are to marry the king,” Na-yeon whispers close to your ear, her tone laced with a smugness that makes your stomach turn. “Most women would kill to be in your place.”

You don’t respond. Your throat feels tight, your heart heavy. Most women don’t know the truth about him. Most women haven’t seen the darkness that festers behind his piercing gaze. If they did, they’d run far, far away.

“Leave me alone,” you whisper weakly, your voice cracking. The court ladies exchange glances but obey, bowing before quietly filing out of the room. All except Na-yeon. She lingers, always watching, always ready to report back to him.

“You should feel honored,” she says, her voice soft but sharp, like the blade of a knife. “This is the greatest moment of your life.”

You swallow hard, fists clenched in your lap. “The greatest moment of my life?” you repeat bitterly. “This is the worst moment of my life. I’d rather die.”

For a fleeting second, her expression falters, but it’s gone just as quickly. She straightens, smoothing the front of her hanbok. “You mustn’t say such things, my lady. The king wouldn’t like to hear that.”

You glare at her. “Let him hear it. I don’t care anymore.”

But even as the words leave your mouth, you feel the weight of them settle in your chest. You’ve felt the consequences of his anger before. You know better than to provoke him. And yet, part of you doesn’t care.

You’re desperate, grasping at any semblance of control, even if it means testing his patience. You wish that you had died last night when he had attempted to take your own life, but then….

Na-Yeon had caught you. She has been like a shadow and now you’re here.

The palace courtyard is alive with activity, the sound of drums echoing through the cold morning air. The ceremonial guards stand in perfect formation, their armor gleaming under the pale sunlight.

Nobles and officials gather in clusters, their voices hushed as they exchange whispers about the grand occasion.

You’re led through the courtyard by a procession of attendants, their hands firm on your arms as they guide you toward the altar. You want to run, to scream, but your body betrays you. Your legs move mechanically, your feet dragging across the stone path as though weighed down by chains.

The altar looms ahead, a grand structure draped in silk banners and adorned with offerings of fruit, rice, and incense. At its center stands Jungkook, his figure imposing, cloaked in the rich robes of a king. His dark eyes find yours immediately, piercing through the crowd, and your breath catches.

There’s something about the way he looks at you—intense, unyielding, predatory. It sends a shiver down your spine. He’s been waiting for this moment, and the satisfaction in his expression is unmistakable.

As you approach, the murmurs of the crowd fall silent. All eyes are on you now.

“Bow,” one of the court ladies hisses under her breath.

You hesitate for only a moment before lowering yourself to the ground, your knees pressing against the cold stone. Your head dips forward in a deep bow, a gesture of submission that makes your stomach churn.

Jungkook steps forward, his movements slow, deliberate. You feel his presence before you see him, the weight of it suffocating.

“Rise,” he commands, his voice deep and resonant.

“AND… you, the court lady… never ever talk to my wife like that, or I will have your tongue for breakfast.” Jungkook growls and the lady immediately cowers in fear, he glares daggers into her head.

You watch and you hear everything.

He’s so scary.

You obey, standing on shaky legs as he towers over you. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes tell you everything. You belong to him now.

The ceremony begins with the gabae, the presentation of gifts. Silk, gold, jewels—each item is placed before you with great ceremony, a display of wealth and power that feels more like a taunt than a gesture of goodwill.

Jungkook watches you intently, his gaze never wavering. You can feel the heat of it, burning into your skin, as though he’s daring you to object. But you don’t. You can’t.

Next comes the pyebaek, the bowing ritual. You kneel once again, this time before Jungkook and the royal elders. Your movements are stiff, your body trembling with each bow. The elders nod in approval, their expressions impassive, while Jungkook watches with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs under his breath, so low only you can hear. The word feels like a brand, searing into your skin.

The final ritual is the joongin, the sharing of food. A tray of offerings is placed before you—steamed rice, dried fish, and fruits carefully arranged in intricate patterns. Jungkook picks up a piece of fruit, holding it out to you.

“Eat,” he commands.

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the food. Your hands tremble as you take the fruit from him, the act feeling more symbolic than it should. As you take a bite, the crowd erupts into applause, their cheers echoing across the courtyard.

It’s done. You are now his queen.

The celebrations continue long into the evening, but you barely notice. Your mind is numb, your body moving on autopilot as you’re led through the motions of the day. Smiling when prompted, nodding when addressed—it’s all a blur.

As the sun sets, the palace is bathed in the warm glow of lanterns. The air is thick with the scent of incense and wine, the sounds of laughter and music filling the halls. But you don’t feel joy. You feel hollow.

Later that night, Jungkook finds you in your chambers. He’s shed his ceremonial robes for a simpler, darker outfit, but his presence is just as commanding.

“Come,” he says, extending a hand toward you.

You don’t move. Your feet feel rooted to the ground, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Don’t make me ask again,” he warns, his voice low, dangerous.

Reluctantly, you take his hand. His grip is firm, almost possessive, as he leads you toward the royal chambers.

The night stretches ahead of you, long and uncertain. You don’t know what awaits you behind those doors, but one thing is certain: your life, as you knew it, is over.

•••

Hours later… you are even more terrified.

The air in the bridal chamber is thick with tension. The flickering candlelight casts long, trembling shadows across the walls, the golden dragons embroidered on the silk bedding almost seeming to writhe. You stand frozen in the center of the room, your hands fidgeting with the delicate fabric of your wedding hanbok. Your heart pounds in your chest like a caged animal, the cold sweat on your back soaking through the layers of expensive silk.

The heavy door creaks open behind you, and you flinch. His footsteps are slow, deliberate, each one a deliberate announcement of his presence. King Jungkook—no, your husband now—steps into the room, his dark robes flowing behind him, the faint scent of musk and sandalwood following him.

He stands tall, broad shoulders and a powerful frame outlined by the flickering light. His strong jaw clenches slightly, and his dark, piercing eyes drink you in. His presence is suffocating, his physique commanding. The ceremonial attire does little to hide the strength beneath the fine fabric, his toned chest visible through the parting of his robe. His raven-black hair falls slightly into his eyes, framing his perfect like features. He is devastatingly beautiful, and that terrifies you.

“You look breathtaking,” he says, his voice low and husky, carrying an edge that sends a shiver down your spine.

You take a small step back, the edge of the bed pressing against the back of your legs.

His eyes narrow at the movement, but he doesn’t comment. He shuts the door behind him with a soft click, the sound filling the silence like a judge sealing your fate.

Jungkook moves toward you slowly, his gaze fixed on you like a predator stalking its prey. Your mouth feels dry, your throat tight as you take another step back, only to have your knees buckle slightly when you bump into the bed.

“There’s no need to be afraid, my queen,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively soft. “Tonight is ours. No one will disturb us.”

You open your mouth to respond, to beg or plead, but the words die on your lips when he reaches out. His hand is warm as it brushes against your cheek, his thumb tracing your trembling lower lip. The touch is almost tender, but the hunger in his eyes betrays him.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” he whispers, his tone dark with an undercurrent of desperation. His thumb presses slightly against your lip, as if testing your resolve. “How many nights I’ve dreamed of you, Y/N?”

“Y-Your Majesty—”

“Jungkook,” he interrupts, his tone firm, almost commanding. “You are mine now, my queen. No more formalities.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he leans closer, his face mere inches from yours. The warmth of his body radiates against your trembling form, his scent intoxicatingly rich and masculine. You can feel the raw strength in his presence, the way his chest rises and falls, the way his arms flex as he reaches for you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, his lips hovering just above yours. “Do you know what it does to me? Seeing you like this? Knowing you’re finally mine?”

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a kiss that steals the air from your lungs. It is not gentle. It’s forceful, claiming, a declaration of his dominance. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his other hand gripping your waist and pulling you against his chest.

Your hands press against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but it’s futile. His chest is solid, the muscles beneath the silk unyielding. You feel the raw power in his body, a strength that both intimidates and overwhelms you.

“Stop,” you whisper against his lips, your voice trembling, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, your resistance only seems to fuel his desire.

“Stop?” he repeats, his voice low and laced with frustration as he finally pulls back. His dark eyes bore into yours, the hunger in them burning brighter than ever. “Why do you keep running from me, Y/N? I am your husband now. Your king. You belong to me.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you force them back, refusing to let him see you cry. “Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I—I can’t—”

“FUCK, YN.”

He screams and you flinch, for a moment as he hears his voice through the walls of this chamber, he almost feels bad as he stares at you

You’re so terrified, a crying mess, but God knows, it’s only turning him on more.

Why are you so fucking frustrating?

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tightening as he stares down at you. His gaze flickers to your trembling hands, your heaving chest, and then back to your tear-filled eyes. For a moment, something unreadable flashes across his face—hurt, perhaps, or maybe just irritation.

“I’ve given you everything,” he says, his voice cold now, but still laced with that obsessive edge. “I’ve built a kingdom for you. Killed for you. And yet you still flinch when I touch you.”

You don’t respond, unable to find the words.

His hand moves to your waist again, sliding around to the small of your back as he pulls you against him. His other hand trails up your arm, his touch light but possessive. The contrast between his strength and his touch sends a chill down your spine.

“You’re so delicate,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “So fragile. But you’re mine. Do you understand that, Y/N?”

You shake your head slightly, tears spilling down your cheeks. “No,” you whisper. “I don’t want this. I never wanted this.”

His grip tightens for a moment, his jaw clenching as he exhales sharply. The air between you grows colder, the tension suffocating.

“You’ll learn,” he says finally, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ll learn to love me. To need me. Because no one else will ever have you.”

He leans in again, his lips brushing against your neck this time. You feel the heat of his breath, the light scrape of his teeth against your skin, and you shudder.

But then, he stops.

For a long moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your uneven breathing. He pulls back, his eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. His expression hardens, and he lets out a low growl of frustration.

“You’re not ready,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Not yet.”

His hands fall away from you, and he steps back, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with barely-contained frustration. “I could take you right now,” he says, his voice cold. “But that wouldn’t satisfy me. Not like this.”

You stare at him, unsure whether to feel relief or dread.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he glares at you. “You insult me with your fear, Y/N,” he says, his voice low and venomous. “But you’ll come to me willingly one day. You’ll beg for my touch.”

He turns abruptly, his dark robes swirling around him as he moves toward the door. Before leaving, he pauses, his hand on the handle.

“Remember this, Y/N,” he says without looking back. “You’re mine. In this life and the next.”

The door shuts behind him with a finality that makes your knees buckle. You collapse onto the bed, trembling, your mind spinning with fear and confusion.

The silence of the room is deafening, but it doesn’t give you no comfort. You know this isn’t the end—merely the beginning of a life trapped in the clutches of a man whose obsession burns hotter than any love ever could.

[liveyun]

you’re an idiot (so am i) | j.jk

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem oc/reader

rating. M

genre. enemies to 👀, university AU, neighbours AU, comedy, drama, romance, angst, slight smut

warnings. coarse language, crACK like lOTS OF IT, theyre both idiots. excessive bickering,,, gym related stuff,,, Medical school itself is a warning,, unhealthy amounts of protein mentions,, i’m Sorry if you’re a gymbro 😭🙏🏾, awkwardness, oc gets slightly injured, it gets slightly smutty 👀, unspoken feelings bc they both suck at communicating, some Cute stuff, that should be it but lmk if i missed any, its 4am

wc. 4.5k +

if this writing style flops, i’ll probably quit writing too 💀

it’s 7:04 AM

or is it really. what is the time again

unfortunately you are awake.

and it’s not by choice.

it’s because your protein 💪 PROTEIN 💪 MORE PROTEIN 🏋️ gymrat neighbour is up, doing burpees in his living room

and the walls between your apartments are criminally thin

and you’re convinced he’s trying to invent a new form of torture through burpees because the sQUEAKING OF HIS DAMN SHOES ARE JUST AS LOUD AS AN ALARM CLOCK!!

why is he even awake at this ungodly hour, you wonder for the 8293838th time since moving in

you feel like crying

for rEAL.

it was around 5:30 am when u finally had let out a sigh of relief at having finally completed your assignment

you roll out of bed, hair resembling a bird’s nest

what else is bed hair supposed to look like

“O YEA!”

here we go

again

you feel like ripping your already damaged hair bc why does he have to be so damn loud

has no occupant not filed a complaint against him yet?

so now u consider knocking on his door to complain... but you remember what happened the last time you tried

jungkook had answered the door holding two dumbbells liKe they were extensions of his arms, shirtless, smiling so brightly it could cure vitamin D deficiency

you knew you were cooked the moment smirked at you gawkinG at his physique and you felt your cheeks warming up

“oh, hey, Y/N,” he’d said, casually flexing mid-sentence with that stupid grin on his face “need something? Or just admiring the view?”

you haven’t known peace ever since

by 8:15 AM, you’ve surrendered to fate and shuffled into the kitchen for coffee

you swEar you hear Jungkook’s blender whirring as he makes another one of his infamous protein shakes

does he even eat anything which does not have protein powder

like ok you understand the value of protein

but anything which has that stupid thing in it automatically tastes like the Biggest Piece of Dogshit

and somehow that’s what you neighbour has 24/7

last week he had accidentally left one in the communal fridge

it smelled like death and regret.

absolute L

anyway u think u need to get something in ur system too and thats when u open your fridge

and sigh

it’s empty.

except for a jar of pickles and a, uh, questionable carton of oat milk

yea. you’ll have to get brunch today. no futher questions asked

10:32 AM

ur first class of the day

and guess what

u have made the mistake of sitting near Jungkook in the lecture hall.

again! 😍

u swear that u are trying to focus on the lecture but is it really your fault that jungkook looks extra,,,...,,,

beefy

his notebook is open, but instead of notes, he’s drawing a disturbingly accurate diagram of biceps

and the shading looks pretty accurate too

he notices you staring, oof “anatomy is about more than just books, Y/N.”

you feel a muscle near your eye twitch

“i really don’t remember asking.”

ouch

that came out a bit too rude. . .

you feel like u should say sorry or something but he just flashes you that golden retriever grin

and somehow, you’re the one who feels stupid

12:10 PM

you’d think a med school lunch break would feel like a break

but no

the first thing you hear is the unmistakable pop of jungkook’s tupperware lid. it’s like pavlov’s bell, but instead of a dog, it triggers your impending irritation

of course it’s chicken, broccoli, and rice. gymrat starter pack™

does this man even know other foods exist?

atleast it doesn’t look unseasoned so maybe you can take it

you’re not the one having it anyway

“bon appétit,” he says with that smug grin, shoveling a forkful into his mouth like he’s filming a mukbang

you side-eye your sad excuse of a sandwich. “don’t you ever get bored of eating that?”

he gasps like a victorian man having seen the ankle of his wife for the first time

“bored? of gains? never.”

the chewing. oh god, the chewing. it’s so loud you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose

crunch. chew. sip of water from the world’s largest bottle. repeat.

“do you have to eat like a vacuum?”

he pauses, fork mid-air, and looks at you with wide, innocent eyes. then he grins. “do you have to be this cute when you’re annoyed?”

wha— cough!!

did you just choke at your sandwich infront of him?

-100 aura points

your brain just blue-screens

what the hell are you supposed to do with that information

12:22 pm

you haven’t touched your chips yet. you’re saving them for after jungkook’s food massacre ends

his tupperware is licked clean but he’s already eyeing your bag of chips like a hawk

“you gonna eat those?”

“yes, jungkook, i’m gonna eat my chips”

“cool”

c r u n c h

he’s already eaten half the bag.

u are genuinely considering homicide now

the girl from the next table suddenly waves at him, all giggly and twirling her hair like she’s auditioning for a romcom

“hey, jungkook! you should totally sit with us!”

he glances at you, one brow raised. “should i?”

“why are you asking me?” you snap, already annoyed (but like, annoyed in a normal way, not jealous. definitely not jealous)

you miss the way his lips quirk in the corners

“nah, i think i’ll stay here,” he says, smirking. “you’re better company anyway”

...

why is your face heating up. why. stop it

1:00 PM

you’re walking to your next class when jungkook catches up, sipping his protein shake. the smell is somewhere between expired yogurt and pure evil

“so, lunch was fun,” he says casually, like he didn’t commit multiple crimes against your sanity earlier

“for who?” you mumble, giving him the nastiest bombastic side eye

“for both of us,” he replies, grinning. “don’t lie, y/n, you’d miss me if i wasn’t around”

“i’d miss the peace”

he laughs heartily and it’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to both strangle him and maybe... smile a little

1:12 PM

ur phone dings

dumb(bell)kook : (now) bring more chips tomorrow

or don’t. i’ll just steal them again

>:D

you stare at your screen for a second, debating whether to respond or block his number

you type back

you : (1:13PM) touch my chips again and i’ll report you to student conduct

his reply is instant.

dumb(bell)kook : (now) bet they’d let me off for good behavior 😛

2:47 pm.

group project time!

otherwise known as “watch y/n slowly lose her sanity” time

you're hunched over your notes, trying to come up with literally anything for this cursed assignment while everyone else is glued to their phones

“guys, any ideas?” you try, for the fifth time, because teamwork makes the dream work, right?

wrong. dead silence. you can practically hear your soul exiting your body

one guy mutters, "we could... idk, make a powerpoint?" and goes back to scrolling on instagram. helpful king

you’re about three seconds away from making a powerpoint on why you hate everyone here when the door swings open

in walks jungkook, twenty minutes late, balancing a protein shake in one hand and a clipboard in the other

like he’s about to announce his plan for world domination

he slides into the chair next to you, annoyingly fresh, as if he hasn’t just already benched three cows at the gym

“did i miss anything?” he asks, sipping his shake and eyeing you with those boba lookalike peepers like he’s the main character

why are his eyes so

cute

“yeah, we solved climate change and made contact with aliens. you're late.”

he smirks. smirks. “nice. guess i’ll tackle world hunger next.”

one of your lab mates looks up from her phone just to whisper, “he’s so hot..”

my ass.

“he’s useless”

you’re about to drop-kick the clipboard out of his hands when he lazily stretches and says, “so what’s the plan, y/n? you always have the best ideas”

and just like that, everyone turns to you like a pack of hyenas waiting for their next meal

you might actually murder him. right after you finish this stupid project.

>:-)

midnight.

you’re staring at your notes like they’re written in ancient alien hieroglyphics. focus? yup, that’s a myth

through the wall, you hear it. again.

jungkook’s obnoxious gym playlist thumping loud enough to summon the gods of protein.

how about you just summon the reaper to maybe reap your soul or his

you try to ignore it. you really do. but then the bass drops, and you swear the walls start vibrating

ARGH

that’s it. you’ve snapped. you slam your pen down and march out of your apartment like a woman on a mission

by the time you’re at his door, you’re already regretting this decision

but sleep-deprived y/n? she’s not known for her impulse control

you bang on the door like your life depends on it

>:-(

after a moment, jungkook opens up, looking like he just stepped out of a gym rat rom-com. damp hair, earbuds in, wearing a tank top that shows off way too much arm.

good lord, those tattoos..

“what’s up?” he asks casually, pulling out an earbud, as if you didn’t just nearly break his door down

whats up? what thE hELL DOES HE MEAN WHATS UP??

“it’s midnight!” you yell, waving a hand in the general direction of your apartment. “some of us need sleep to survive!”

he blinks at you, tilting his head like a confused golden retriever. “but you’re awake now. want to do a quick set of push-ups?

you stare at him. you need to go to the store from where he bought the audacity. “push-ups?!”

“yeah,” he says, dead serious. “it’s a good way to burn off frustration. i do them all the time when i’m annoyed.”

“maybe i should start,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes. “because i’m annoyed right now.”

jungkook grins like the demon he is. “great! i’ll grab my mat.”

before you can stop him, he’s already turned back into his apartment. you briefly consider running, but it’s too late.

this is your life now.

five minutes later, you’re on the floor of his apartment, struggling to do one (1) push-up while he effortlessly does twenty in the same time it takes you to collapse in defeat

you feel like someone has bathed you in sweat

“this is humiliating,” you groan, face smushed into the mat

maybe you should’ve just slept

“nah, you’re doing great,” he says, way too cheerfully for someone torturing you. “just three more and you’ll hit... like, five total.”

you debate throwing a dumbbell at him but decide against it

jail isn’t worth it.

yet.

five minutes later you’re on the floor of his apartment, now two (2) push-ups deep and already regretting every decision you’ve made up to this point

you try again, your arms shaking with the effort, your brain screaming for mercy, when—

crack

“ow, ow, ow!” you yelp as your shoulder protests in a way that’s probably not supposed to happen

“that’s it, i’m dOne” you wince, face red from the sheer humiliation and pain

jungkook is standing there with a weirdly sympathetic expression that’s 90% amusement and 10% concern

he’s crouching beside you now, and you can't help but notice his Bambi eyes, all big and concerned, looking at your shoulder like he's actually worried for you

fml

this is so unfair

“u good?” he asks, voice unusually soft, and you can’t help but notice that barely there scar on his left cheek pulling slightly as he frowns and looks down at you

you glare at him, wincing a little more than you’d like to admit

does it look like ur good lol

“i think i pulled something” you mutter, still holding your shoulder, and mentally kicking yourself for agreeing to do this in the first place

you knew you shouldn’t have agreed to him

“mm,” he hums thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to your face, and then down to your shoulder with that gentle focus you didn’t think he was capable of

oUuu

“you should’ve asked for help, rookie” he says with that familiar cocky grin, but you catch the slight crinkle of concern in his brow, the mole beneath his lips almost beckoning you to stare at it

why is he so dumb but also so stupidly handsome?

and then his fingers are brushing against your shoulder again, carefully massaging the area in a way that’s too intimate for someone who’s just your annoying gym-obsessed neighbor

your heart rate spikes, and suddenly the injury doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore

“i’m fine, really,” you lie, trying to brush it off, but the way his Bambi eyes are looking at you—all soft and worried—has your head spinning

oh god

“i don’t think you are” he mutters, voice low, as he places a hand gently on your waist, pulling you just a little closer

god, stop being so touchy

the fact that he smells like musk and with some citrus-y notes underneath doesn’t help either

you feel your cheeks warming and lips parting

you feel yourself leaning in despite all logic telling you to stop, and then his eyes flicker down to your lips and back to your eyes, slow and cautious, like he’s waiting for your permission

you really cannot help but feel your heart skip a beat at how beautiful he looks. no like for real, his hair is slightly overgrown, curled at the ends which fall gracefully over his face

and how soft his lips look

your brain is too far gone, and the next thing you know, you’re kissing him, hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer

his hair feels so silky soft

but his lips are even softer, but there’s a desperate edge to the kiss, and you don’t know if it's because of your injury or the fact that you’ve both been playing this weird tension game for far too long

you feel like u can finally die kissing him like this

his hand slides down your back, pressing you into him as if you might disappear, and you pull away, gasping for air

jungkook’s eyes are wide, his pupils blown and heavy-lidded, his chest rising and falling quickly as he looks at you with an unreadable expression

“shit, i… i didn’t think i was actually going to do that” he murmurs, his voice rough and nearly trembling if u hear closely

you stare at his lips again, the mole under them, the way he looks so dumb but also so dumb handsome

his mouth parts to say something stupid again but you shush him with your pointer on his lips

“shut up and kiss me again, you idiot” you mutter, pulling him back in without a second thought

oH WOW

Jungkook doesn’t need any more encouragement. this time, it’s all teeth and heat, a kiss that feels like it might burn the air around you both

and your shoulder? completely forgotten, left in the dust

the kiss doesn’t end in some grand, romantic crescendo like the movies promised

you both were shamelessly making out on his mat

you were perched on his lap and both of u were busy eating eachother’s mouths (it sounds gross but that’s what exactly u two were doing) when suddenly you give his hair a tug

and you hear a moan spilling from him

his hips buck up and you gasp, but it ends with him abruptly pulling away

he’s breathing like he just ran an hour on the treadmill. cheeks all flushed, lips shining with saliva and eyes wide

and your heart is hammering in your chest like it’s trying to escape

jungkook stares at you, lips slightly swollen, eyes wide and wild, and for once, the idiot looks just as lost as you feel

“i—uh—” you stammer, the words tangling in your throat because what the hell are you supposed to say after something like that

“y- yeah,” he cuts in, his voice rough and strained like he’s been punched in the gut, “same”

same? SAME?!

you glare at him, more out of panic than anger, because suddenly the room feels too small, and his scent—something annoyingly musky and Jungkook-ish—is now overwhelming you

“i, uh, should go” you blurt out, scrambling to your feet and clutching your sore shoulder like a lifeline

jungkook doesn’t stop you, just sits there on the floor, looking up at you with a furrowed brow and an expression you can’t quite place

“cool” he mutters, dragging a hand through his messy hair as his jaw clenches

you don’t say anything else, don’t even look back as you practically bolt out of his apartment and into the safety of your own, slamming the door shut behind you

breathe, you tell yourself, leaning against the door, your heart still racing, your lips still tingling from his kiss

you won’t lie, you really didn’t think it would take just a tug of hair to have Mr. Muscle moaning under you

and that kind of inflated ur ego too

>:-)

but now

as u stand behind your closed door

the warmth that had filled your chest moments ago is quickly replaced by a knot of confusion and panic

because this wasn’t supposed to happen, not with Jungkook of all people

he’s my annoying gym-rat neighbor. this is… this is stupid

or is this really?..

no matter how much you try to convince yourself, your fingers keep brushing your lips absentmindedly, and your brain replays the moment over and over again like some kind of cruel joke

the next morning, you half expect him to blast his gym playlist at full volume to piss you off like he always does

but it’s quiet

too quiet

jungkook doesn’t blast music. doesn’t clank weights around. doesn’t do anything to make his presence known, and it’s driving you insane

you don’t know why it bothers you so much, but it does

when you leave for class, you catch a glimpse of him locking his door, but he doesn’t even glance your way

just slings his backpack over his shoulder and walks off like you don’t exist

asshole

yea that hurt. a Lot. like a good amount, because you are sure that you felt that pain in the centre of your chest

but it’s not like you’re any better

you bury yourself in your textbooks, pretending the kiss never happened, even though your stupid brain refuses to let it go

your chest feels tight every time you hear his door open or his voice filter through the thin walls

and you hate how you feel disappointed every time he doesn’t acknowledge you

like you really are a stranger to him

:-(

it’s pathetic, but you can’t help it

the silence between the two of you stretches on like an invisible barrier

days pass, and the two of you become masters of the fine art of avoidance

there’s a strange art to it, like walking on eggshells in your own apartment

even if u two live in separate apartments, it just feels

weird

you are so used to him being so noisy and what not

but the silence is heavy, uncomfortable, like an unfinished sentence hanging in the air

and it’s clEar neither of you know how to handle whatever the hell this is

you can’t figure out whether it’s a relief or suffocating

and every time you pass him in the hallway or see him through your apartment window, it’s like a silent conversation you’re not having

and that, somehow, feels worse than everything else

you want him to say something. anything.

but he doesn’t

and neither do you

and it makes you sick how easy it is to fall back into the rhythm of pretending he doesn’t exist

even when he’s right there.

you go to class and he’s there

sitting three rows ahead of you like he’s deliberately trying to ignore you

and with that girl who cannot seem to have her hands off his bicep

and you’re… fine with it

totally fine

you are just hoping that your glare is enough to burn a hole in her skull

it’s just that you can’t stop staring at the back of his head

like maybe he’ll turn around and say something but nope

the entire lecture passes and he doesn’t even glance over

and you try not to overthink it but you’re pretty sure jungkook is doing the same thing to you

ignoring you

on purpose

you’re not imagining it, right?

lunch rolls around and you sit down at your usual spot

jungkook’s sitting at the table next to you with his back to you

he doesn’t even look up when you sit down

normally, he would’ve sent you a little half-smile or asked about your day or whatever. .

but now? nothing

it’s like you’re invisible

and that’s fine. you don’t care.

but deep down, you feel this weird lump in your chest

because you didn’t expect this coldness from him

even after everything that’s happened

and you’d even unconsciously brought his favourite flavour of chips he especially likes..

:(

then you see him texting on his phone

and you can’t help but peek over at his screen

jungkook is texting someone

and it’s not you

for some reason, that stings more than it should, but you swallow it down and pretend you didn’t notice

the silence between the two of you stretches out for days

it’s like the entire universe is pretending you never had that moment together

the night when everything took a wild ass turn

but jungkook’s acting like it never happened

and so are you.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s better

maybe he regrets kissing you.

maybe you even made him uncomfortable?..

and maybe this is easier

you can’t decide if it hurts or if you’re just overthinking it

either way, you stop checking his texts, stop wondering what he’s doing in his apartment

you try your best to pretend it’s okay

but deep down, you miss the stupid moments

the ones where he wasn’t so distant where it feels like something ended between you two before it could even start.

it feels like it’s been over a decade

:(

and you hate it.

but you push it aside

it’s just… the silence is way too loud now.

you’re sitting in your room, trying to convince yourself that letting go of jungkook is the right thing to do

and perhaps ur failing miserably lol

but it’s hard because every five minutes you catch yourself staring at something that reminds you of him

your notes? he doodled on them during lectures

your hoodie? yeah, it’s his. he lent it to you one day and never asked for it back

your heart? yeah. he kind of stole that too

you’re spiraling between sleep and insanity when there’s a knock on your door

no, wait—it’s not a knock

it’s banging — like someone’s fist is about to break through the wood

WHO CALLED THE COPS ON YOU ONG

you jump up, your heart pounding, and open the door

and there he is

jungkook—standing there, looking like he just ran a marathon and fought a bear at the same time

hair all messy, slight bags underneath his eyes and kinda disheveled outfit

for a split second, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat

oh

it’s been weeks since you’ve seen him, and suddenly having him standing in front of you is making your heart race like crazy

“i can’t—” he stops, breathless, hands on his knees like he’s about to collapse

you’re standing there, eyes wide, totally taken aback by the sight of him, feeling a mix of relief and something else you can’t quite place

yet

“i can’t take it anymore,” he says, looking up at you with that ridiculous face of his

you grab that meaty bicep of him, ushering him to stand up

“what are you talking about?” you ask, completely confused

“you. i’m talking about you,” he says, taking a step closer

hUH

the air around you feels like it’s being sucked out of the room

your head is spinning because after all this time, here he is, right in front of you

“i like you. i’ve always liked you. and i didn’t know how to tell you, so i…”

“i got all this gym equipment just to bother you. i’d turn the music up way too loud, and i thought that’d make you notice me. i sat next to you at lunch, even in lectures, doing everything to annoy you because i didn’t know how else to approach you, i really thought—”

“jungkook.”

you blink, processing everything in a blur, your heart still hammering in your chest

but he doesn’t quite listen to you. “i knew you liked my sketches we had during cardio lectures, so i always made sure to draw—”

“juNGKOOK!”

you cut him off, smacking his idiotic shoulders “you’re an idiot.”

jungkook stops, eyes widening a little, but there’s this look of relief on his face

like a huge weight has just been lifted off him

almost like when u get to pee after holding it in for hours

“i know,” he says softly, and for the first time, you realize how vulnerable he looks standing there

he somehow looks

small.

“then why didn’t you just talk to me like a normal person?” you ask, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement

jungkook smiles sheepishly, his pearly whites flashing. “i guess i thought this would be easier.”

easier.

only if he knew that each moment without him felt like the earth opening up and swallowing you

AND!!! HIS FAVOURITE ONION VINEGAR FLAVORED CHIPS!! which used to be your absolutely hated flavour but somehow you’ve caught a liking to them recently

how ironic

the room feels heavy with tension as you both stand there, unsure of what to say next, but his gaze is so intense, it makes your heart skip

“say something,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “please.”

you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, still flustered, but there’s something about his earnestness that makes everything else fade into the background

and the way his caramel brown eyes nearly sparkle underneath your dimly lit apartment lights

you shake your head with a smile.

“you’re an idiot.”

but you're smiling like a total fool because what else are you supposed to do when the guy you’ve been in love with just confessed to you?

jungkook’s face softens, and then he smiles too

a smile which looks so adorable you feel your heart will burst

and it’s over for you

“so, uh…” he scratches the back of his neck, looking bashful. “does that mean you like me too?”

you roll your eyes, your heart racing all over again, and grab the front of his shirt to pull him inside

“kiss me already”

the door slams shut behind you.

and the rest

as they say, is history

:-)

a/n : i love them bad :’(

mlist | let me know what you think anonymously :))

[artyandink]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐱𝐲𝐳 1

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, angst, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: Power by Little Mix

office fever

God, the wait was killing you.

You were sitting in a bar, hoping that when the results of the final poll came you were drunk enough that you’d cheer and scream like a madwoman to counteract the inevitable news that you’d lose the 2014 presidential elections to your only eligible opponent, Amara Shurley. Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected there’d be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.

“Come on, babes, cheer up!” Stephanie, one of your two best friends, drawled, checking her manicured nails while absent-mindedly sipping on a Long Island Iced Tea like it was merely water, but that was Steph O’Donnell for you, plain and simple. Eh, she was a bit nails-obsessed, but you loved her anyway for it, she did always look immaculate.

Bella, your other, redhead best friend, sighed and smacked Steph upside her blonde head, earning a gasp at the potentially ruined heatless curls (no, they weren’t ruined, she’s just being dramatic). “Maybe you just need to get less alcohol in your system.” She said pointedly, plucking the vodka shot out of your fingers.

“Bels, if anything, she needs more.” Steph pointed out after checking if her hair wasn’t frizzed up in a pocket mirror. “If she wins, it just means she’s capable of partying harder.”

Bella sighed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a small laugh, tsking internally at the notion. “She needs to remain sober for when she gets the results, and she’s going to win.” Bella turned to you with a sparkling smile and took your hand, squeezing it. “We’re here for you, girl. Sure, it’s totally possible that the Amara Shurley woman could win the election — she’s older — but if the country’s not stupid, then you’ll be the next POTUS.”

“I’m not sure whether to feel better or worse.” You playfully rolled your eyes, but let the vodka shot go and gestured to the bartender with a resigned sigh. Yeah, you could go without alcohol for tonight. “But ok. One mocktail, and surprise me with it. Cheers.” You looked to Bella with raised eyebrows, tipping your head slightly. “So, what if I lose the election?”

Bella tutted, and Steph looked up from her nails in shock— damn, that’s how you knew you were in deep shit. “Baby girl, you better get that thinking out of your head right now.” Steph gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in shock. “You are an icon for a feminist nation— a non-toxic feminist nation. If people don’t vote for you, I’m gonna kill those who didn’t, those who did can live.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Steph, no—”

“Yes—”

A loud squeal from Bella distracted both of you and almost made Steph spill the Cosmo that matched her nails and also made her shoot a you bitch look that she really didn’t mean, but then Bella started flapping her hands and making squealing and unintelligible, Brittany from Alvin and the Chipmunk-esque sounds that made you and Steph share a look. “You ok, Bels?” You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.

“Are you having a stroke?” Steph continued, checking for any signs of maybe a heart attack or an ice cube lodged down her throat so her speech becomes little whistles.

“Do you smell toast?” You waved a hand in front of your nose, but then her phone was shoved in front of your face so the screen and everything went blurry, not to mention the sting of the light on your eyes— shit, that burned until your retinas. Grabbing the phone from her, you held it at a distance and squinted (“grandma”, said Steph) but then saw the headline.

2014 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS, FINAL POLL RESULTS

Then you scrolled down, with bated breath and clutching Bella’s hand like you wanted to rip it off, and you took a shaky look at the numbers.

AMARA SHURLEY — 36%

That means you got… 64% of the vote, now that you did the math. Holy shit. “Holy shit!” You gasped, letting out a Bella-reminiscent squeal just as Steph did, and you were smothered by two heavily-perfumed hugs, the wind knocked out of you, but did that matter? No.

You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.

Holy fuck, holy shit, holy crap. This was the most beautiful day of your life, beside the day you met Bella and Steph, that day was important. “You’re POTUS.” Steph grinned, waving for, like, six whiskeys for all of you to down.

“You’re POTUS, baby girl.” Bella giggled, squeezing your shoulders and then spinning around on her bar stool, pointing obviously to you and yelling “POTUS!”, earning a round of cheers and applause from the patrons that made you bury your face in your hands.

But you did it with a grin. You were the President.

Honestly, being the President was exhilarating, cause that meant you got to make real change, it was incredible. Your new security team had fended off the paparazzi from smothering you Bella and Steph style except more annoying as you were escorted into the White House, a woman only a little younger than you waiting with an eager grin and a clipboard hugged to her chest.

“Welcome to the White House, Madam President.” She grinned, holding out her hand nervously then retracting it— she didn’t know what new bosses wanted, alright? “I’m Becky Rosen, I’ll be your assistant. Anything you need, I’ll handle it. Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, a martini— if you want a martini I’ll have the barman get one ready and waiting for you in the Oval Office…”

During that time she’d been rambling you’d examined Becky, getting a feel for what she was like. Thank God your assistant was a woman also and she seemed like good fun, lively spirit, definitely someone who won’t make your schedule sound boring. But she looked overworked and tired, maybe from the last president— that’d be Raphael Easton, right? Yeah.

“Two things,” you started as you were walking through the halls to the Oval Office, “do you have the files for personal bodyguard applicants that I can cycle through before making official speeches?”

“They’re all on your desk, ma’am.” Becky answered almost immediately— damn, she was rather eager, and happy with her job, clearly, but also had dark circles and eye bags that made something twinge in you. It didn’t sit right.

You nodded, then gave her a warm smile, gently taking the clipboard. “How ‘bout you take the day off, yeah? It’s only my first day, I don’t need anything yet, and I can get the applicants from…” You looked through the labels on the file: FBI, CIA, private agencies, ADX Supermax— ADX Supermax?

“What’s wrong, ma’am?” Becky asked, seeing the way your words trailed off upon seeing the file amid all the other incredibly professional outlets for protection, an applicant from the ADX. Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didn’t expect a dude in prison to put his file through.

Oh. Upon opening it, it was just a letter.

You looked up to Becky, biting your lip in thought, cause if this guy’s in the Supermax, he’s prolific.

“Do I have a direct line to the director of the FBI?”

ADX Florence was a fortress, a high-tech prison designed to keep America’s most dangerous criminals sealed away from the world. It wasn’t a place where hope grew. Dean Winchester, prisoner 11347-7, wasn’t the kind of guy to expect hope anyway. A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery, he had resigned himself to spending the rest of his days in this tomb of concrete and steel.

It wasn’t regret that gnawed at him in the sterile silence of his cell. Regret wasn’t his style. He’d made his choices, taken his hits, and lived by the only code he knew: survival. But that didn’t mean he liked being locked away. Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedom—the smell of asphalt under the Impala’s tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.

Now, his days were measured in three meals delivered through a slot and the endless monotony of isolation. Until that morning in 2008 when the guard, a surly guy Dean called Mustache, slid a newspaper into his cell along with the breakfast tray.

Dean didn’t read newspapers often. What was the point? The world moved on without him. But that day, boredom got the better of him. He skimmed headlines about wars, scandals, and the economy’s nosedive. Nothing he hadn’t expected. Then his eyes landed on something that made him sit up straighter on the cot.

“Wanted: Elite Personal Security for First Female President. Apply Now.”

The ad stood out like a neon sign in a desert. Beneath the bold letters was a glossy image of the President standing in front of the White House, flanked by Secret Service agents. The text outlined the need for a personal bodyguard—someone with impeccable skills, discretion, and a willingness to take a bullet if necessary. Experience required. Unorthodox candidates welcome.

Dean read it twice, then a third time, the words stirring something he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was close.

ADX Supermax wasn’t the kind of place where people left easily. But this ad…this ad was a door, cracked open just wide enough for someone like him to slip through.

“Unorthodox candidates,” he muttered, smirking. “Guess I qualify.”

By lunchtime, Dean had a plan. It wasn’t perfect—nothing he did ever was—but it was a shot, and that was more than he usually got in this place.

He spent hours staring at the blank sheet of paper he’d salvaged from a previous legal memo. Writing wasn’t his strong suit. Hell, if he’d been good at words, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in the killing business in the first place. But this wasn’t about flowery language. It was about convincing someone that a convicted hitman could be trusted with the life of the most powerful person in the country.

Dean leaned over the small desk bolted to the wall of his cell, chewing the end of his pen as he started to scribble.

To Madam President,

I am writing to express my interest in the position of personal security for the President. I realize my application may raise questions, given my current circumstances, but I ask for your consideration based on my unique qualifications.

Before my incarceration, I was highly skilled in tactical operations, surveillance, and neutralising high-level targets. My ability to assess danger and act decisively has been tested in some of the most dangerous environments.

Though I am serving time for my past actions, I believe in redemption. This position represents an opportunity for me to use my skills for a greater purpose. I have spent my years here reflecting on my choices, and I am prepared to dedicate my life to protecting someone who stands for hope and progress in this country.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I am available for an interview at your convenience.

Sincerely, Dean Winchester

He read over the letter a dozen times, making minor adjustments. It was rough, sure, but it was honest. And honesty was something he didn’t traffic in often, neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.

By the time he was done, his hand ached, and the paper was smudged from his grip. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

The next step was trickier.

Dean’s lawyer, a wiry man named Feldman who’d been paid off by some shadowy client years ago to keep an eye on him, didn’t usually show up unless Dean demanded it. This time, Dean played the card of “urgent legal matter.” When Feldman arrived, looking mildly annoyed but curious, Dean slid the letter across the table during their monitored meeting.

“You want me to…submit this?” Feldman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean nodded. “Straight to the President’s office. No detours, no ‘I’ll get to it later.’ This is priority one.”

Feldman stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You realize this is insane, right? You’re in here for life. They’re not going to let you out just because you can write a heartfelt letter.”

“They might if they’re desperate enough,” Dean countered. “And that ad says they’re looking for someone who can do the job, not someone who looks good on paper. I can do the job.”

Feldman sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “And if I say no?”

Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You won’t. You owe me.”

Feldman muttered something under his breath but pocketed the letter. “You’re lucky I like long shots.”

Weeks passed. Dean didn’t hear anything, and for a while, he wondered if Feldman had tossed the letter in the nearest trash can. But then, one morning, Mustache appeared at his cell with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve got a visitor,” he said gruffly.

Dean frowned. “Who?”

“Didn’t say. Get up.”

Visitors were rare, especially unannounced ones. Dean followed Mustache down the cold, narrow corridors, his curiosity growing. When he reached the visitor room, his breath caught.

The woman sitting on the other side of the plexiglass partition was dressed in a crisp suit, her posture radiating authority. She wasn’t Feldman, and she definitely wasn’t a typical visitor.

Dean picked up the phone on his side of the glass.

“Mr. Winchester,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I’m here on behalf of the President.”

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Guess you got my letter.”

Her expression didn’t change. “We did. It was…unconventional.”

“That’s me in a nutshell.”

She glanced at a folder on the table in front of her. “Your record is extensive. Multiple charges of murder-for-hire, conspiracy, weapons trafficking…” She looked up, her sharp eyes locking onto his. “Why should we trust you?”

Dean leaned forward, his tone serious. “Because I know what I’m doing. You want someone who’ll lay down their life for the President? Someone who’ll see the threats before anyone else does? That’s me. I’ve been on both sides of this game. I know how killers think because I’ve been one. And if you give me this chance, I’ll prove that I’m more than what’s in that file.”

The woman studied him for a long moment before standing. “We’ll be in touch.”

Dean hung up the phone, watching her leave with a mixture of hope and disbelief. For the first time in years, it felt like the world outside ADX Supermax wasn’t as far away as it seemed.

You’d been running interviews for a bodyguard for about a week now, and you’d only started them once Becky had gotten a good rest, as well as the rest of the staff at the White House so they could spend good time with their families. First few weeks of presidency were busy ones, so you wanted your employees to have some time for themselves before anything happened.

Nobody seemed suitable to you, even though you’d been presented with the best FBI, CIA and private outlet’s security detail they had, they’d each and all failed your every attempt to make them seem credible, you didn’t want anyone like that. Tabloids had already gotten to smearing your name regarding this, but you were more concerned with your final applicant.

Dean Winchester.

You’d asked the FBI to send over every file they had on him, and the list was — you hated to say it — extensive. Many assassinations of high and low-level targets, and he was credited with over 100 assassinations in the past two years— you had your doubts about this guy, the director of the FBI had said he was in there for a reason.

You’d find out if he was unhinged, or just a normal man.

Well, Dean had been escorted as covertly as possible with a bunch of military and secret service agents, which didn’t make sense as his hands were shackled to his feet. The only way he’d be getting out of these chains was if he was a magician, and he wasn’t, just incredibly good at marksmanship and fighting, thank John for that.

“Alright, alright.” He scoffed, almost tripping out of the car as he was practically shoved up the steps by the agents by his head. “I’m moving, I’m moving, Jesus fuck, you ladies are uptight.” He got to the door of the White House, and holy shit, he was really here. He got let in, hearing a Secret Service agent blabbing in his ear.

“Any funny business, 353, and we’re sending you straight back. You’re gonna address Madam President with respect, no cheek—” Ugh, the sound of his voice was grating, but all Dean could do was let out a terse nod as he was led to the door of the Oval Office and led inside. He stepped in, glaring at the service agent who had been yapping about decorum. Then, suddenly—

“Oi! Hey, hey!” A woman’s voice snapped, and he looked up from his shackles to see you, and boy, were you young for a president. You had to be his age, right? Yeah, and you were surprisingly gorgeous for a POTUS, but the way you’d stood up with a loud chair screech from your desk, snapped your fingers and pointing at Dean’s shackles with a livid expression, he knew the agents were in deep shit.

“The fuck is this?” You gestured to the heavy shackles on Dean’s wrists and ankles— they were quite heavy and uncomfortable, now that he paid attention to it, but he was more focused on how much of a little Spitfire you were. Young, but you were snapping at these middle-aged men as if they were 5 year old children. “You might as well put a chain around his neck, for God’s sake— whichever of you has the key, take those things off and leave my office, if he kills me, fine, just have Amara take my place, she’ll do a damn good job as well.”

The service agents stood there, stunned, and then a stern look from you — “Damn,” Dean muttered — got the agent next to Dean to shove the key in the lock to his wrists and ankles, letting the chains fall free, and they were promptly carried out. You sighed, returning to your desk, running a hand through your hair.

“I am so sorry about that, Mr Winchester, I’ve just always found those chains really inhumane.” You rushed the sentence, gesturing to your desk in front of you and sipping your coffee to calm down. Honestly, not your best option, it probably made you more jittery.

Dean didn’t argue, he didn’t want to get scolded, just made his way to the desk, grey jumpsuit — he was in protective custody in prison — rustling with every step until he sat down on the irresistibly comfy chair, cause wow, prison chairs were hard and low standard.

His ass felt like it was in heaven right now.

“No problem, ma’am, I see the point. Not exactly the cleanest slate.” He didn’t think it was wise to make a joke of how he’d assassinated people for hire, but it made you laugh, so maybe that was good going. Who knows? “And call me Dean.”

“I see that.” You smiled, then gestured to Dean with a warm smile, not something he was used to unless it was the smiles of his mom that he barely remembered. Otherwise it was either hungry, lustful smiles of desperate women and cunning smiles of ruthless businessmen and mafia bosses. “So, Dean, before we get started, would you like anything? Tea, coffee, water, beer, whiskey— one candidate asked for straight vodka. He’s not getting the job.” Damn. The new POTUS was cool.

“Water would be great.” Dean would have a drop of whiskey, but he wanted to make a good impression and hydrate himself with something other than low-quality prison water. So, when you passed him the water, he downed the tall glass in three gulps, but then paused when he saw you watching.

Then he swallowed. Shit.

But you weren’t judging him, you seemed understanding, that yes, prison water probably tasted like rat piss, so he finished the rest of the glass and wiped his hand with the back of his mouth. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. Prison must be really rough, treat yourself.” You waved him off, shaking your head, then peered through his file. Rather interesting family background, how did he turn out that way? “Says here that your father’s a Marine Corporal veteran, thanks for his service, and your brother’s a prosecution lawyer that graduated from Stanford Law. Impressive.” You looked up at him, thumb playing with the ring on your middle finger, eyes focused on the paper.

Dean couldn’t help but note that you were beautiful. Not objectively, just factually beautiful. He’s not being a perv.

“My brother’s a nerd.” Dean stated with a smile as you talked about his family, he didn’t blame them, he wasn’t a bookworm, he wasn’t as smart as his little brother in that aspect, Sam was all about studying and being the good kid.

"Yeah, my brother used to say I was a nerd, now look at me." You chuckled, then nodded in acknowledgement. "You, however, you graduated just on the mark, no honours, didn't go to college and transactions show you started as a hitman when you were 20." You paused for a second, cause that was what you couldn’t put your finger on. "But the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?"

Dean knew he was gonna be interrogated by the new President, that’s a given, and he made sure to prepare himself for the whole psychological evaluation of himself. His expression remained unreadable, only slightly surprised by how quickly you put together that he’d been paying for his brother’s college.

“He’s family. Sammy’s a good kid, he deserves to get away from this life.” Dean answered, it was a simple answer. It didn’t really dig deep into his past or his true relationships with his family.

Well, all you had to know was that his dad was paranoid after returning from deployment and taught him how to shoot like James fucking Bond and Sammy too, but Sam had left for college while Dean had nothing he could do for himself.

"Mhm." You hummed, looking through the rest of it. "Now my guys are finding that in the years since your brother left college, money you've earned from assassinations ordered by high level clients — that are now behind bars — has been wired to a rehab centre down in Delaware. I looked into it, and I found out your father's staying there. None of that money's going to you." Your voice wasn't judging. You instead sounded understanding.

The only reason why Dean wasn’t surprised or shocked by the fact that you knew this was the fact that you were the President. He should’ve guessed. He smiled slightly as you remained understanding about the whole situation though, most other politicians would’ve seen this as a chance to blackmail and threaten him.

“Yeah, my dad’s got severe PTSD. It’s the only good one nearby.” He explained as he crossed his arms. It would be hard to find a rehab centre that accepted his dad given the whole violent record he had.

You couldn’t help but feel sympathy at that. Dean’s juvenile record wasn’t the cleanest, so no shops would’ve hired him so he could make that money, only black ops would. It was strange, and you’d be under fire by the media if you voiced it, but you saw his struggle. “You did it for your family.” You were surprised at how softly you said that.

“Family don’t end in blood, ma’am.” Dean replied, honestly, and you were hit where it hurt by that statement. You were expecting a cold-hearted killer, not a man trying to do right by his post-traumatic father and little brother. “Not if I’m still breathin’. Sammy’s got a good life, a wife, by what I’ve heard. Don’t wanna burden him with all that shit, a-and I haven’t talked to him in a few years. My boy.” He cleared his throat to not get too emotional.

You had to do that too, just to be clear.

“I’m sorry.” But that wouldn’t just fix everything, so you took a moment to let that hang in order to give him some time. “Only important question I’m gonna ask. Hypothetically, we’re under fire at one of my events. You’ve gotten me to safety, and I give you the order to do the same for civilians. Do you do it?”

Dean took in the question, eyebrow raised slightly as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he studied you. That was a odd but interesting question. This was a job interview for real, it seems.

But this answer was simple.

“Civilians. I’d get the innocents out first.” He said, there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his voice. Civilians, innocent people will always come first before anything and anyone. He’d made sure when performing hits that no civilians, women, fathers, men, mothers, children— were safely out of the way before taking a shot. If they weren’t, he refused. He wasn’t risking it.

He was expecting you to refuse him on the spot, but instead two words came out that almost made him go “holy shit”.

“You’re hired.”

You’re. Hired. He could die.

“I-I’m sorry, Madam President, I’m what?” He practically gasped, hands clutching the arms of his seat, watching you take out some already prepared parole papers and walking to the door in your heels, handing the file to one of the service agents.

“Hired.” You said simply, a shrug and a smile offered as you walked to the desk. Fucking hell, Dean had never seen a stranger president in his life. “Your parole is being passed effective immediately, and I wanna get you in touch with my stylist and wardrobe guy so we can get you some new and frankly more comfortable clothes. You’ll be staying here, at the White House, you’ll have full access to my staff for anything you might need, but most importantly, you need to call your family.” You tapped your landline that you had prepared on the desk with a small, encouraging smile. “I have Sam’s number and the rehab centre’s number both in your directory file, I’ll give you some time to talk rather than waiting like a creep.”

As you walked out, Dean couldn’t believe his ears. He was now the President’s bodyguard, he got to live in luxury, no doubt there was a large paycheck and he got to call Sammy again. His Sammy, oh, holy shit.

His hand shook as he reached for the landline, opening the file and there it was, Sam’s number, and it’d changed since he got put in prison a good six months ago. His fingers fumbled, clumsily dialling the number and waiting a moment as the dial tone stopped and the ringing shook his eardrum. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up, please pick up—

“Hello?” Dean’s heart broke upon hearing Sam’s voice again, and he took a shaky breath. Get a grip, Winchester, it’s only your little brother, the man you raised your while life.

“Bitch.” His voice sounded like he’d smoked cigarettes, and he’d quit that habit after high school, but all he could hear was the dead silence of realisation on the other side.

“Jerk.”

The motorcade pulled up to the white-brick colonial house just as the late afternoon sun began to dip behind the row of oaks lining the driveway. You leaned back in your seat, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. For months now, your life had been a whirlwind of campaign rallies, debates, and sleepless nights in cramped hotels. It all felt surreal. You were the President of the United States. Yet, somehow, coming home to this house—the one you’d grown up in—was what made it all feel real.

Secret Service agents stepped out first, scanning the quiet suburban neighborhood for threats. You glanced out the tinted window, catching a glimpse of the familiar front porch where your father had painted the railing a deep blue years ago. The door creaked open, and a small figure darted out onto the lawn before anyone could stop him.

“Austin!”

The call came from Eden, your sister-in-law, who appeared a moment later, balancing baby Wyatt on her hip. She looked harried but happy, waving at you from the porch. Austin, however, was already halfway to the car, his untied sneakers slapping against the pavement.

You smiled despite yourself. Rolling down the window, you called out, “Hold on, buddy, let them do their job.”

The boy skidded to a stop as one of the agents gently but firmly intercepted him, patting him on the shoulder and guiding him back toward the porch. Austin complied, but his excitement was evident in every bouncing step.

By the time you exited the car, your father, Mark, was standing on the porch steps, arms crossed but with a wide grin splitting his face. “There she is,” he said, his voice booming with pride. “Madame President.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you climbed the steps. “Dad, don’t start.”

“Oh, I’ll start, alright,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “My daughter, the leader of the free world! They’re gonna need to expand that Oval Office just to fit my pride.”

“Mark, give her some room to breathe,” your mother, Odette, chided as she stepped outside. She was smaller than you remembered, her hair streaked with more gray than the last time you’d seen her. But her smile was as warm as ever. She held her arms open, and you leaned into her familiar embrace, the scent of lavender and vanilla washing over you.

“It’s good to see you, Mom,” you murmured.

“We’re so proud of you,” she said softly, pulling back to study your face. “But I bet you’re exhausted.”

You nodded, glancing over her shoulder to see your older brother Ryan descending the stairs, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who decided to come back down to earth,” he teased, reaching out to clap you on the shoulder.

“Someone’s gotta keep you grounded,” you shot back, the familiar rhythm of sibling banter falling into place as though no time had passed.

Eden appeared beside him, Wyatt still on her hip. She offered you a smile, and you leaned in to kiss her cheek. “How’s this little guy doing?” you asked, reaching out to tickle Wyatt’s chin. The baby let out a squeal of laughter, his chubby arms flailing.

“He’s teething,” Eden said with a weary smile. “So, you know…living the dream.”

Austin, who had been hovering impatiently at the edge of the group, finally couldn’t contain himself. “Auntie!” he shouted, throwing his arms around your waist.

“Hey, kiddo,” you said, ruffling his hair. “What’s new?”

“I got an A on my science project!” he said, looking up at you with bright eyes.

“That’s great!” you said. “What was the project?”

“Volcanoes,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Dad helped me with the lava.”

Ryan coughed. “Helped is a strong word. He mostly just told me what to do.”

“That’s because you were doing it wrong!” Austin protested, and the group dissolved into laughter.

Inside, the house was exactly as you remembered it. The worn hardwood floors creaked under your feet, and the faint scent of your mother’s cooking lingered in the air. The walls were covered with family photos—some old, some new—including one of you on election night, surrounded by your team, your face frozen in an expression of shock and joy.

Dinner was already laid out on the long wooden table in the dining room. A roast chicken sat in the center, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, and your mother’s famous macaroni casserole. It was a far cry from the catered meals you’d been eating on the campaign trail, and your stomach growled in anticipation.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Odette said, ushering everyone to their seats.

You took your usual spot, sandwiched between Austin and your father, while Ryan carved the chicken. Plates were passed around, and soon the room was filled with the clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation.

Mark raised his glass of water. “A toast,” he said, his voice cutting through the din. “To my daughter. The first woman to sit in the Oval Office. You’ve made us all so proud.”

“Here, here!” Ryan chimed in, lifting his own glass.

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you clinked glasses with everyone around the table. For a moment, the weight of your responsibilities seemed to lift, replaced by the simple joy of being surrounded by the people who had always believed in you.

After dinner, you helped your mother clear the table, despite her protests. “You’re the President now,” she said, swatting your hands away from the plates. “You don’t need to be doing dishes.”

“Maybe not,” you said, grinning. “But I don’t think I’ve outgrown being your daughter.”

She relented, shaking her head with a fond smile, and the two of you worked side by side in comfortable silence. When the last dish was put away, you found yourself drawn to the living room, where the rest of the family had gathered.

Ryan was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a photo album with Austin perched beside him. Eden sat in the armchair, rocking Wyatt to sleep, while Mark stood by the fireplace, nursing a cup of coffee.

You sank into the armchair opposite Eden, your eyes drawn to the flickering flames in the hearth. “It feels good to be home,” you said softly.

Mark looked over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you, kid,” he said. “But don’t forget—you’ve got us. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in your chest. “I know,” you said. “And I’m going to need that. All of it.”

Ryan looked up from the photo album, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Think we’ll get to visit the White House? Austin’s dying to see the bowling alley.”

Austin’s head snapped up. “There’s a bowling alley?”

You laughed. “There is. And yeah, you’ll all come visit. But I can’t promise I’ll have much time for bowling.”

“Why not?” Austin asked, his brow furrowing. “You’re the President. Can’t you just…make time?”

The simplicity of his question made you smile. “It’s a little more complicated than that, buddy,” you said. “But I’ll do my best.”

Later that night, after the house had quieted and everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself standing in the backyard. The air was crisp and cool, and the stars above were brighter than you remembered. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the enormity of your new role settle over you like a heavy cloak.

The back door creaked open, and Mark stepped outside, a blanket draped over his shoulders. He joined you on the porch, handing you a steaming mug of tea.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Too much on my mind.”

Mark nodded, staring out at the dark yard. “It’s a big job,” he said. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

“I hope so,” you said quietly.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “You’ve got what it takes,” he said. “And you’ve got us. Don’t forget that.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, Dad.”

He smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”

As you followed him inside, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in months. No matter how hard the road ahead might be, you knew you wouldn’t be walking it alone.

The Oval Office was as grand as you’d imagined—perhaps even more so. Its high, curved ceilings and rich, historic decor exuded authority, yet the warmth of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the tall windows softened the edges, giving the room an almost serene quality.

You sat at the Resolute Desk, a stack of documents waiting for your signature. Each one bore the weight of history. Education reforms. Trade agreements. Environmental policies. Every flick of your pen carried consequences that rippled far beyond the iconic walls of this room.

Across the room, Becky, your ever-efficient assistant, was perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, tablet in hand. “After this meeting with the education committee, you’ve got a fifteen-minute break before the press briefing,” she said, scrolling rapidly through the day’s schedule. “Then at three, there’s the Cabinet discussion on infrastructure. And don’t forget the call with the German Chancellor at four.”

“Got it,” you replied, signing your name with a practiced flourish. “Anything else?”

Becky hesitated, glancing at her screen. “Oh, and your new personal bodyguard will be arriving shortly. Dean Winchester.”

You kept your expression neutral, though you’d been briefed extensively on this particular appointment. A former hitman, Dean’s resume wasn’t exactly typical for someone tasked with protecting the President. But his unconventional background—and the skillset that came with it—was exactly why he’d been chosen.

“Right,” you said, setting your pen down. “I’ve read his file. Has he been through security clearance?”

“Thoroughly vetted,” Becky assured you. “And cleared. He should be here any moment.”

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let’s hope he lives up to the hype.”

Just as Becky opened her mouth to reply, the door opened.

You looked up, and the words you were about to say caught in your throat.

Dean Winchester strode into the room with the kind of presence that made people stop and take notice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a casual confidence that hinted at years of facing danger head-on. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored just enough to highlight his powerful frame but not so tight as to make him look polished or delicate. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted against his tanned skin, and his black tie was slightly loosened, as if he’d deliberately left it that way.

Despite the formal attire, there was an undeniable ruggedness about him. His short, tousled hair was just slightly too messy to be regulation, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw added an edge that no amount of tailoring could hide. His green eyes, sharp and assessing, swept the room before landing on you.

You found yourself momentarily distracted by the way the suit accentuated his broad chest and tapered waist. It was a rare thing for someone to wear something so formal yet exude the kind of raw, unrefined masculinity that Dean seemed to embody.

“Madame President,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he stopped a respectful distance from your desk.

You forced yourself to refocus, clearing your throat as you rose from your seat. “Mr. Winchester.” You allowed yourself a small smile, noting the way his gaze remained steady but professional. “You clean up well.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Thanks. I aim to please.”

Becky glanced between the two of you before standing. “I’ll step out and make sure everything’s ready for the committee meeting,” she said, gathering her tablet.

“Thanks, Becky,” you said, watching her leave before turning back to Dean.

For a moment, the room felt smaller. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but take him in once more, your gaze lingering on the way his shoulders filled out the suit jacket, the way his long fingers rested casually at his sides, the way they gripped his chair as he sat down. You snapped your attention back to his face before he could notice.

Dean leaned back slightly in the chair, taking in the sight of you as you scanned your schedule on the tablet in front of you. The soft lighting of the Oval Office seemed to highlight the sharp lines of your features, and the way you carried yourself—confident, composed, entirely in command—struck him in a way he hadn’t expected.

He’d done his research, of course. He knew your career milestones, your policies, even a few of your personal quirks. But seeing you in person was different. The photographs didn’t do you justice.

As you spoke, your voice clear and firm, Dean found himself watching the curve of your lips, the subtle tilt of your head when you emphasized a point. You had a presence that filled the room, a quiet strength that made it impossible to look away.

“Your main job,” you were saying, “is to ensure my safety, both here and when I travel. You’ll coordinate with the Secret Service, but your focus will be on close-range protection. You’ll accompany me to all public appearances, meetings, and events.”

Dean nodded, forcing himself to focus on your words rather than the way your blouse fit perfectly beneath your blazer. “Understood. Anything specific I should know about your routine?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “It varies. I keep a tight schedule, but unexpected situations come up all the time. You’ll need to be adaptable.”

“I’m good at that,” Dean said, his tone confident but not cocky.

“Good.” You swiped at the tablet, then set it down on the desk. “I’ve read your file. Your skillset is…impressive.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “That’s one way to put it.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a wry smile. “I’d call it unconventional, but that seems to be exactly what I need.”

Dean’s gaze flicked over you again, this time lingering on the curve of your jawline, the way your fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the desk. He’d worked with plenty of high-profile people before, but you were in a league of your own.

“Anything else I should be aware of?” he asked, his voice low.

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment. “You’re going to see me at my best and my worst,” you said plainly. “Long hours, high stress, bad days, good days. It comes with the territory.”

Dean nodded. “I’m here to do my job, ma’am. Whatever it takes.”

Something in his tone made you pause, your gaze sharpening as you studied him. “You’ve been in worse situations, haven’t you?”

“Let’s just say I’m no stranger to high stakes,” he replied, his smirk returning.

You leaned back in your chair, satisfied. “Good. I’ll need someone who can keep a cool head under pressure. And someone who doesn’t mind telling me the hard truth when I need to hear it.”

Dean’s smirk widened slightly. “I can handle that.”

The conversation shifted to logistics—your upcoming travel schedule, security protocols, and daily routines. Dean asked a few questions, his tone professional, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was studying you as much as he was listening.

If you noticed the way his eyes dipped to your collarbone when you leaned forward to make a point, or how his gaze lingered on the curve of your wrist as you gestured, you didn’t let on. You were focused, deliberate, every bit the commander-in-chief he’d expected.

When the meeting wrapped up, you stood and extended a hand again. “Welcome aboard, Dean. I look forward to working with you.”

Dean rose, his hand engulfing yours once more. “The pleasure’s mine, ma’am.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, “And Dean?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“You really do look good in that suit.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone again, you returned to your desk, your mind already shifting to the next task. But for a moment, you allowed yourself a small smile.

It was going to be an interesting partnership.

“Ok, excuse me?” Bella had practically squealed when the door to your bedroom behind you, her and Steph had been shut by Dean, who was now waiting outside to give you some privacy, and thank God those walls were thick enough to hide this conversation. “You didn’t tell us your bodyguard was a Ben Affleck and Brad Pitt combo.”

Steph scoffed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. He’s better than that, he puts Adonis to shame— where’s he been hiding?” They both turned to you expectantly, clearly not aware that your Adonis-transcendent bodyguard was fresh out of the United States Penitentiary, Administrative Maximum Facility. Oh, that’s gonna be a hard pill to swallow, right?

“Prison.” You swallowed, clearing your throat awkwardly upon saying it, cause you weren’t often the bringer of news that a guy like Dean used to be a prolific criminal who kills for money. “ADX Florence. An ex-hitman, to be clear, with over 100 kills in the past two years.”

“So he’s a bad boy.” Bella giggled, clearly not phased, which kind of concerned you with which brain they both were thinking from, and hopefully not the downstairs one. “Even better, oh my god, I was getting worried he’s a goodie.”

Steph raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Right? Like, you can’t just drop ‘ex-hitman with over 100 kills’ and not expect us to have questions. Or fantasies.”

“Steph!” you choked, glancing toward the door as if Dean could hear through the thick walls.

“What? I’m just saying!” She crossed her arms, leaning back against the bedpost. “Honestly, though? He’s got that whole ‘dark past but reformed bad boy’ thing going for him. You’re living every romance novel heroine’s dream.”

Bella, not to be outdone, clutched at her chest dramatically. “Forget romance novels—I’d climb him like a tree. That man looks like he could bench press me and not even break a sweat.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we not?”

“We absolutely can,” Bella countered, her voice rising with glee. “Seriously, you’ve got the hottest bodyguard in the country, and you didn’t think we needed to know this? Girl, where’s your sense of sisterhood?”

Steph was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re withholding important information. Like, what’s he like in person? Is he all business, or does he have that smoldering, ‘I could kill you, but I won’t’ energy?”

Your cheeks burned, both from their shameless gushing and the mental image Steph’s words conjured. “He’s…fine. Professional.”

“‘Professional,’ she says,” Bella snorted. “Professional at looking fine as hell, maybe.” She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Come on. What’s he like? Does he flirt? Does he give you those ‘I’m secretly in love with you’ stares when you’re not looking?”

You glared at her. “No. Absolutely not. He’s just doing his job.”

“Sure he is,” Steph said with a smirk, clearly not buying it. “But don’t think we didn’t notice the way he looked at you when he shut the door earlier.”

You blinked. “What? He didn’t—”

“Oh, honey,” Bella interrupted, waving her hand dramatically. “He totally did. That man looked at you like you were the last piece of chocolate cake at a birthday party. And don’t even get me started on how he stood. You know, all broody and protective, like some kind of…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Alpha wolf guarding his mate,” Steph supplied helpfully.

“Exactly!” Bella snapped her fingers. “Thank you, Steph. That’s exactly the vibe.”

You groaned again, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. “You two need help.”

“What we need,” Steph said, grinning wickedly, “is for you to admit that you’ve at least thought about it. Because if you haven’t, you’re lying.”

“I haven’t!” you protested, a little too quickly.

Bella’s eyes lit up like she’d just won the lottery. “Oh my God, you totally have! Look at you—your ears are turning red.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, glaring at the floor.

But they weren’t about to let you off the hook.

“Okay, okay,” Steph said, holding up a hand as if to calm the chaos. “Let’s be serious for a second. He’s obviously gorgeous, and clearly there’s some…tension. But what’s the story? Like, how did you even end up with him as your bodyguard? I feel like there’s a Netflix series waiting to happen here.”

You hesitated, weighing how much to tell them. “It’s…complicated. He was recommended through some very high-level channels. Apparently, he’s the best at what he does.”

“And what he does is kill people,” Bella said, her voice dripping with mock solemnity.

You shot her a look. “Not anymore. He’s reformed. He went through a rigorous vetting process before he was even considered for the position.”

Steph tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “So, he’s done bad things, but now he’s protecting the President of the United States. That’s a redemption arc if I’ve ever heard one.”

Bella sighed wistfully. “And he’s doing it all while looking like a Calvin Klein model who got lost on his way to the shoot.”

“Can we not turn this into a thirst-fest?” you pleaded, though you knew it was a losing battle.

Bella leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, sweetie. It’s already a thirst-fest. You’re just in denial.”

The conversation spiraled from there, with Bella and Steph taking turns crafting increasingly absurd fantasies about Dean’s hypothetical love life.

“He probably has a tragic backstory,” Bella said dreamily, lying back on the bed. “Like, maybe he lost the love of his life in some tragic accident, and now he’s sworn to protect others to atone for his past.”

“Or,” Steph countered, “he’s secretly a billionaire who does this for the adrenaline rush. Like, by day he’s your bodyguard, but by night he’s funding orphanages and saving puppies.”

Bella clapped her hands. “Yes! And in his free time, he restores classic cars and writes poetry.”

You stared at them, equal parts amused and horrified. “You two have officially lost it.”

“Or,” Steph said, ignoring you entirely, “he’s secretly in love with you, and this whole bodyguard thing is just an excuse to be close to you.”

Bella gasped, sitting up suddenly. “Steph, that’s it! That’s the one!”

You buried your face in your hands. “I regret ever letting you meet him.”

“Don’t be like that,” Bella said, patting your shoulder. “We’re just saying—you’re sitting on a goldmine of romantic potential here. If you don’t at least consider it, we will.”

“Noted,” you said dryly, standing up and heading for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Unlike you two.”

Bella and Steph exchanged knowing looks as you opened the door to find Dean standing just outside, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

He straightened slightly when you stepped into the hallway, his eyes meeting yours. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze as you brushed past him.

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Steph and Bella might have been onto something.

The drive to Sam’s place was smooth, the kind of easy journey Dean Winchester hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe ever. The hum of the Impala’s engine, a comforting growl beneath him, was as close to peace as Dean could imagine. His day off had finally rolled around, and he hadn’t hesitated to decide how he’d spend it.

Sam had settled in a quiet neighborhood outside Washington, D.C., where tree-lined streets and neat, white-picket fences painted a picture of suburban serenity. It was a far cry from the lives they’d led growing up, but Dean couldn’t deny it suited his little brother.

Pulling up to the house, Dean killed the engine and climbed out, adjusting his leather jacket as he took in the sight. The two-story home was modest but inviting, with a tidy lawn and a swing set in the backyard visible through the side gate. He could hear faint laughter—probably from Dean Jr., Sam and Jess’s kid, who, much to Dean’s delight, was his namesake.

Dean’s boots crunched against the gravel path as he approached the front door. Before he could knock, it swung open, and Sam stood there, looking every bit the family man.

“Dean,” Sam greeted, his face lighting up in a grin. “Right on time.”

“Of course,” Dean said, stepping inside. “I’m punctual now. Didn’t you hear? I’ve got a government job.”

Sam chuckled, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he shut the door behind him. “I’m still getting used to the idea.”

Inside, the house was warm and lived-in. Pictures adorned the walls—Jess and Sam on their wedding day, little Dean Jr. blowing out candles on a birthday cake, snapshots of family trips to the beach. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and Dean’s stomach growled in response.

“Jess is cooking?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She insists,” Sam replied with a shrug. “Says you need a proper meal after all that ‘White House food.’”

Dean smirked. “Tell her I’m not gonna argue with that.”

Jess appeared moments later, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She was glowing, as she always seemed to be, her blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her smile bright enough to light up the room.

“Dean!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. “It’s been too long.”

“Too long,” Dean agreed, glancing over her shoulder. “Where’s the rugrat?”

As if on cue, the sound of small feet thudding down the stairs filled the house. Dean Jr. appeared, his face lighting up when he saw his uncle. The kid was a spitting image of Sam, with floppy brown hair and wide hazel eyes, but he had Dean’s mischievous grin.

“Uncle Dean!”

“Dean-o!” Dean crouched, catching the boy as he barreled into him. “What’s up, kiddo? You keeping your old man in line?”

Dean Jr. nodded enthusiastically. “Dad says you work for the President now. Is that true?”

Dean ruffled the boy’s hair. “Sure is. Cool, huh?”

“Super cool,” Dean Jr. said, his eyes wide with awe.

“Alright, enough hero worship,” Sam teased, though his smile betrayed how much he enjoyed seeing his son and brother bond. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

The meal was hearty—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables—and filled with easy conversation. Dean filled them in on the basics of his new job, skirting around the grittier details of his past. Sam and Jess shared stories about their life, from Jess’s latest work project to Dean Jr.’s adventures in Little League.

It was only after the dishes were cleared and Jess had taken Dean Jr. upstairs to bed that the conversation turned serious.

The brothers sat in the living room, each nursing a beer. The light from the fireplace cast a warm glow, and the house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards above.

“So,” Sam began, leaning back on the couch, “you gonna tell me how this happened?”

Dean took a long swig of his beer, then set the bottle down on the coffee table. “What, me working for the President? Thought you already knew.”

“I know the headlines,” Sam said, his brow furrowing. “But what I don’t know is how you went from ADX Florence to the White House.”

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Figured you’d ask eventually.”

“Of course I’d ask.” Sam’s voice was gentle but firm. “You were in prison, Dean. The kind of prison people don’t just walk out of.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It started with a newspaper.”

Sam blinked. “A newspaper?”

Dean nodded. “I was in my cell, flipping through this paper someone left behind. Saw an ad for a private security position with the President. They were looking for someone who could think outside the box, someone with…unconventional skills.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “And you thought, ‘Hey, that sounds like me’?”

“Something like that.” Dean’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Figured I didn’t have much to lose, so I wrote up a resume. Handed it off to my lawyer, told him to file it.”

Sam stared at him, his disbelief evident. “And they just…hired you?”

“No,” Dean said with a chuckle. “They didn’t even call me at first. Took weeks before I heard anything. When they finally did, they put me through the wringer—interviews, background checks, psych evaluations. The works.”

“And they still hired you?” Sam asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“Guess they figured my track record spoke for itself,” Dean said, his tone turning more serious. “I’ve done things, Sam. Bad things. But I’ve also done what needed to be done when no one else could. They saw that.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, processing his brother’s words. “And now you’re protecting the most powerful person in the world.”

Dean nodded. “Guess you could say I’m making up for lost time.”

Sam studied his brother, his expression thoughtful. “You know, Jess and I were talking about you the other night. About how far you’ve come. We’re proud of you, Dean.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, not used to hearing such straightforward praise. “Don’t get all mushy on me, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m serious. You’ve been through hell and back, and somehow you’re still standing.”

Dean took another sip of his beer, his gaze distant. “Yeah, well. Standing’s about all I’m good at.”

“That’s not true,” Sam said firmly. “You’ve got a purpose now. A second chance. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Dean glanced at his brother, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam returned the smile, then leaned back with a sigh. “So, what’s she like? The President.”

Dean hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “She’s…different.”

“Different how?”

“She’s smart. Sharp as hell. Tough, but not in a fake way. And she actually listens, which is more than I can say for most people in her position.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you respect her.”

“I do,” Dean admitted.

“And for your type…” Sam smirked, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “She’s pretty hot.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “Sam!”

“What?” Sam asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying. You’ve got a thing for strong women, and she sounds like she fits the bill.”

Dean shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Sam said with a grin. “Besides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through him at his brother’s words.

The rest of the evening passed in easy conversation, the kind that only happened between brothers who’d been through it all together. When Dean finally stood to leave, Sam walked him to the door, clapping him on the shoulder as he stepped outside.

“Take care of yourself, Dean,” Sam said, his voice quiet but steady.

“You too, Sammy,” Dean replied, his gaze lingering on his brother’s home—the warmth, the love, the life Sam had built.

As Dean climbed into the Impala and drove away, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in this world after all.

NEXT UP:

“Dean,” you said, a touch of surprise in your voice. “I thought you were on your break.”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his gaze locked with yours, and the air seemed to thicken. There was something different about him—an intensity in his expression, a flicker of something unspoken.

Without a word, he reached up and tugged at his tie, loosening it further before slipping it over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs.

Your eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t answer. He shrugged out of his suit jacket next, draping it over the back of a chair with deliberate ease. His movements were slow, calculated, and impossibly confident.

“Dean?” you repeated, your voice catching slightly.

His shirt followed. Button by button, he undid it with maddening patience, his green eyes never leaving yours. Your breath hitched as he peeled it off, revealing the broad, chiseled planes of his chest and the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin—a testament to a dangerous past.

By the time his hands went to his belt, your pulse was racing.

“What are you—” you began, but the words died in your throat as he stepped forward.

In one smooth motion, Dean swept the documents off your desk, scattering them across the floor. He leaned down, his hands bracketing you on either side as he effortlessly lifted you onto the polished wood surface.

TAGLIST: @goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

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©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

[vrystalius]

Hello can I request riding kyojuro's thigh or arm?? His arms are so good and strong they always make me feel flustered sm >\\< thank you! Also it's ok if you skip this one~ take care!

Thighs, thighs, thighs.

Kyojuro has always loved your thighs, but you almost drool at the sight of his muscular ones.

Pairing: hashira!Kyojuro x fem!reader

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚ Light NSFW below — MDNI please!

Kyojuro always loved your warm thighs. They’re plush, warm and perfect pillows to rest his head on or get wedged in between, encouraging you to not be shy and squish his head just a little tighter. Perhaps your husband might have a thing for your perfect thighs, who knows?

But if he did, he is not the only one with a thing for thighs. It’s one of your guilty pleasures to watch your husband train for hours upon hours, his clothes sticking onto his sweaty skin, revealing the delicious muscle flex and relax underneath. Once Kyojuro notices your staring and responds with a cheery smile, your eyes quickly shifted to the interesting floorboards of the engawa, marvelling at the beautiful woodwork and desperately trying to appear nonchalant to your husband.

“You were staring quite a lot today.”

His words ripped you out of your trance as you were mindlessly folding some clothes together, the sun outside already dipped far below the horizon. Kyojuro was helping you by folding his own clothes, sitting right beside you. You glanced at him from the side, staring as the muscles in his arm casually flexed by his movements. It was almost hypnotising the way they fed into your fantasy of being manhandled by your husband. followed your gaze down to his arms, smirking slightly at your oh so obvious gawking. After folding the final piece together and carelessly throwing it into the closet, your husband suddenly pulling you closer and onto his lap. Instinctively, you steadied yourself by his shoulders. His smirk grew.

“I haven’t been paying a lot of attention to you lately, have I? Apologies.”

“Yes, barely.”

You shifted on his lap and teasingly arched your back slightly and your chest pressing tightly against his, daring to spill out of your already flimsy robes. You saw an obvious struggle in his eyes, probably debating with himself if he can glance down to your plush breasts for even just a moment. Kyojuro’s hands found their place on your waist as he shifted you onto one thighs, slowly parting his legs with a teasing smile. His leg bounced up against you, rubbing right against your clothed—

“Go on. Show me how much you missed me.”

💠

I’ll make a part 2 with full-blown smut if this gets enough attention or enough people demand it XD Anyways, hope you liked this anyway— even if it’s not explicit smut :,) I’m still a little shy with that.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[petriwriting]

The Adventure Beyond. - JJ Maybank X Reader

A/N: A mini-series (Sort of) inspired by the Dad!JJ or Family man JJ fics i've been seeing. Also have been using an AI writing assistant to help with some grammar and hopefully to better the flow of my writing. I hope you enjoy. This is for everyone in need of JJ Fluff after season 4.

Summary: An epilogue of JJ's Story. His life is one huge adventure. Told in time-skips and memories.

The Outer Banks was always a place for wild memorable adventures—surfing, treasure hunts, and late-night bonfires with your friends. It was home. But this was a different kind of adventure, one that JJ Maybank never expected, yet found himself excited for in ways he couldn’t quite describe. It was the kind of adventure that lasted a lifetime.

You were sitting on the porch of Poguelandia, staring out at the ocean. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore usually calmed you, but today, your thoughts were far from peaceful. Cleo & Kie had gone to brunch together and Cleo and Pope were with John B enjoying an early morning surf. You were alone, except for JJ who had previously been sleeping on the couch. You hand found your head. You had been feeling nauseous for weeks now, but you brushed it off at first—chalked it up to stress or maybe something you ate. But now, with the test in your hand, the reality was clear.

You were pregnant.

Your heart raced as you thought about the next steps, the future, and how this would change everything. But more than anything, you wondered what JJ would think. He wasn’t exactly the "settling down" type, and you didn’t know how he’d react to the news. You had to tell him, but you didn’t know where to start. After uncovering his true parentage, JJ had been acting strangely whenever you mentioned marriage or family. He was insecure about the topic.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden deck behind pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up just in time to see JJ’s familiar figure walking toward you, his signature smirk plastered on his face. He was always so carefree, so full of life, but today, there was something different in the way he looked at you.

"Good mornin', Baby-girl." he said softly, his voice full of warmth as he took a seat beside you on the steps. His arm brushed against yours, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

"Hey," you replied, trying to sound casual, but your nerves were obvious. You felt the test in your pocket like it was a weight you couldn’t escape. You had no idea what he would say or how he'd react.

JJ noticed the change in your tone, the way you seemed distant, and his grin faltered just slightly. He placed his hand over yours, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand as he searched your eyes.

"What’s going on?" he asked, his voice softening. "You’ve been acting weird for a few days."

You took a deep breath, the test still weighing heavily in your pocket. This was it. There was no turning back now. It was now or never.

"JJ," you began, your voice shaky. "I need to tell you something. Something big."

JJ turned his body toward you, his gaze intense as he waited for you to continue. The wind picked up slightly, blowing strands of hair into your face. You pushed them behind your ear and swallowed hard.

"It might change everything." you giggle slightly nervously. "Hey, whoa, i'm right here," JJ reassured you.

"I’m… I’m pregnant."

The words felt like they were hanging in the air between you two, heavy with uncertainty. For a moment, JJ said nothing. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

"Pregnant?" he finally repeated, his voice low, almost like he was testing the word on his tongue.

"Yeah," you said, nodding slowly. "I just found out. I didn’t know how to—"

Before you could finish, JJ pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. You froze for a second, stunned by the sudden closeness, but then you melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay," he murmured into your hair. "This is… This is crazy, but we’ll figure it out. We’re in this together."

You looked up at him, surprised by the calmness in his voice. JJ had always been a whirlwind, a guy who lived for the next thrill, but in this moment, he was steady. He was here for you.

"You’re not mad? Or, Or- upset?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. You had been worried that he’d be overwhelmed, that he’d run like he always did when things got serious.

JJ shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Mad? No. Freaked out? Yeah, a little. But mad? Nah. This is big, but we can do this, Y/N. We’ve always figured things out before, haven’t we?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, feeling a weight lift off your chest. JJ may not have been the most conventional guy, but he had a heart bigger than anyone gave him credit for. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

"We’ll be okay," you said, more to yourself than to him.

JJ pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his face softening. "We will. And hey, I’m not exactly an expert on this whole parenting thing, but I’ll be there. I’ll be there for you and for this little one, no matter what." You stay stiff for a moment, glancing down at your hands and fidgeting for a moment before meeting his eyes again as he continues. "Baby Maybank is going to have the best aunts and uncles in the world, and-" JJ stops himself and his expression sobers up. "I know I want to do better than My dad or Luke ever could."

"JJ-..." Your heart swelled with emotion, and you couldn’t help but smile. "You mean that?"

"Yeah," he said with a confidence you hadn’t expected. "I do."

For the first time in a long while, JJ Maybank was serious. And you realized that even in the face of something that would change everything, you weren’t alone. You had each other. And maybe, just maybe, this would be the greatest adventure yet. It was only the start.

. . . .

It had been roughly 9 months or so since you told JJ about the baby, and while the news had initially thrown him for a loop, it was clear he was more than ready to take on fatherhood. He’d been there for every doctor’s appointment, every late-night craving, and every moment when you needed reassurance. And now, as your due date grew closer, you both found yourselves feeling the weight of what was about to happen.

It was a quiet evening when it started. You were sitting on the couch, your feet propped up, and JJ was next to you, watching some random show on TV. The sound of the waves outside was soothing, and for a moment, everything felt like it was in its right place.

Then, you felt it.

A sharp pain radiated through your lower abdomen, making you wince. You tried to ignore it, but then another one came, stronger this time. You winced in pain and groaned.

"Hey, are you okay?" JJ looked over, noticing the shift in your expression. His eyes narrowed as he sat up straighter. "Y/N?"

"I—" you gasped, clutching the edge of the couch. "I think it’s almost time."

JJ’s eyes went wide with realization. "No way. You’re… You’re sure?"

You nodded, trying to keep your breathing steady. "I’m sure. The contractions… they’re getting closer."

JJ leaped to his feet, looking around like he didn’t know where to start. "Right. Okay. I… I’m gonna go get the car! Wait here. Don’t move, okay?"

You grabbed his arm before he could go running off in a panic. "JJ, slow down. We’ve got time. Call the hospital first."

He took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself down. "Okay, okay. I’ve got this. I know what to do. You just breathe, alright?" He reassured. He had read that in a parenting book he had gotten, and he was suddenly trying to recall several books worth of information. He wanted to know exactly what to do to be the best dad he could, better than his own.

You smiled, despite the pain. "I’m not the one freaking out, J."

With his usual energetic (and slightly chaotic) demeanor, JJ grabbed his phone, calling the hospital to let them know you were on your way. Then, he hurried back to you, his face full of determination.

"Alright, baby. We’re going to get you there. Everything’s going to be fine." He kissed the top of your head and grabbed the bag you had packed weeks ago.

The drive to the hospital felt like the longest ride of your life, but JJ stayed calm, keeping up the reassuring chatter, telling you that you were doing great, that this was just the beginning of your new adventure together. The way he held your hand and squeezed it between contractions made you feel grounded, even as everything around you seemed to be moving too fast.

When you finally arrived, the nurses quickly whisked you into a room. JJ stayed right by your side the entire time, despite the chaos of doctors and medical staff running around. He even tried to joke with you between contractions, telling you that you were doing better than he would’ve expected.

"I’d probably be the one freaking out if I had to do this," he said with a grin. "But you? You’re amazing, Y/N."

The hours felt like a blur. The pain was intense, but JJ was right there, holding your hand, whispering words of encouragement, and reminding you that you were almost there. You were in such pain that your head threw back, and the last thing you remember of those seconds before was the ringing in your ear, the bright wash of cool white lights from the ceiling, the sweat on your forehead, and release.

And then, when it seemed like you couldn’t take any more, you finally heard it.

A cry. A tiny, beautiful cry.

You blinked through the tears in your eyes, your heart racing as the nurse placed the baby in your arms. JJ leaned in, his eyes wide with awe as he gazed at the tiny bundle being handed to you, the doctors cleaned the baby's eyes and nose.

"Look," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Our kid."

You looked down at the little one in your arms, the feeling of love and joy washing over you in a way you never thought possible. The baby’s small fingers curled around yours, and you felt a rush of emotions you couldn’t put into words.

JJ’s hand rested on your shoulder, his gaze never leaving the baby. "We did it," he whispered, the disbelief in his voice turning to wonder.

"Yeah, we did," you said softly, smiling as you looked up at him. "And I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else." he whispered.

JJ’s face softened, his usual carefree attitude replaced with a tenderness you’d never seen before. "You and me," he said quietly, as if making a promise. "We’ve got this. Together."

JJ reaches to hold his baby, and once she is in his arms, it becomes real. The baby let out another soft cry, and JJ, in his own awkward yet adorable way, gently rubbed the baby’s little back. "Hi Baby girl, It's your daddy..." he coos. "I love you so much already kiddo," he murmured, eyes glistening. "You’ve got the best parents in the world. and uh, No pressure, but you better be ready for the best adventures."

. . . .

A year had passed since you and JJ had welcomed your little one into the world. Life had changed in ways you never could’ve imagined. Parenthood had its challenges— sleepless nights, endless diapers, and adjusting to a new routine. But through it all, you and JJ had grown stronger, learning how to navigate this new chapter of life together.

One night, after the baby had finally fallen asleep in their crib, you and JJ found yourselves sitting on the porch again, just like you had when you first told him you were pregnant. The sky was painted with the colors of the setting sun orangey, peachy, faded into a deep sea color, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore adding a peaceful hum to the evening. The cicads just starting their song and the breeze settling in your hair.

"You know, I've been thinking," JJ said, his voice unusually quiet.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "About what?"

He was staring at the horizon, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Us. Everything we’ve been through. The baby, our little family. And how much I love you. I don’t want to just talk about it forever, you know?"

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you. You had no idea where he was going with this, but you could feel your heart racing anyway.

"I love you too, JJ," you said, your voice soft. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

JJ took a deep breath, his usual cocky smirk fading into something much more serious. He turned to you, his eyes filled with that intensity you loved. "Then I want to make it official. I want you to be mine, always. I want to be your husband."

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. Did he just say what you thought he said?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, opening it to reveal a simple, yet stunning ring. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a rush of emotions flood over you. JJ Maybank, the carefree, wild guy who never seemed to settle down, was asking you to marry him. There had been so many moments in the past when you doubted if he could ever truly commit to something like this. But here he was, asking you to be his forever.

You examined the ring, it was in a shiny velvet dark red box that was worn. The initials in a faded gold cursive 'LG'. It was something of his mothers'.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out for the ring, holding it in your hand. "Yes. Of course, yes," you whispered, your voice trembling with happiness.

JJ grinned, looking both relieved and ecstatic at the same time. He slid the ring onto your finger, and for a moment, it felt like time stood still. You leaned in, kissing him gently as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

"I promise, I’m going to love you every single day," he murmured against your lips.

. . . .

The weeks leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind of excitement. You and JJ had agreed on something small and intimate—just the two of you, the baby, and a few close friends. The thought of having a big, extravagant wedding didn’t feel right; it was about the two of you, your family, and this new life you were building together.

When the day finally arrived, you stood on the beach where you and JJ had shared so many of your first moments, the waves crashing gently behind you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you gazed out at the horizon, feeling the same nervous excitement you had felt when you were first pregnant, unsure of what the future held but knowing you were ready to face it together.

JJ stood at the end of the makeshift aisle, dressed in a simple yet handsome suit. His eyes never left you as you walked toward him, a grin spreading across his face. The moment you reached him, he took your hands in his, the same hands that had held yours through every high and low.

"You look perfect," he said, his voice full of awe.

"You clean up pretty well yourself," you teased, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

The officiant, a close friend of yours both, non other than John Booker Routledge, smiled at the two of you. "We’re gathered here today to celebrate the love and commitment between these two people…"

But you hardly heard the rest of the ceremony. All that mattered in that moment was JJ—the way his hand gently squeezed yours, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you. The sea breeze, the smell of marsh and the glow of the sunset. You could feel the promise in the air, the certainty that this was where you were always meant to be.

When the officiant pronounced you both husband and wife, JJ didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply, his heart and soul laid bare in that simple moment. The world around you faded away as you held each other, knowing that no matter what life threw at you, you were ready to face it together.

As you walked back down the aisle, hand in hand with your new husband, you couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming joy.

. . . .

It was a perfect summer day in the Outer Banks. The sun was high in the sky, casting its golden glow over the beach, and the ocean was calm, its waves gently lapping at the shore. You and JJ had taken your little one out for the day, and while you were content to lounge on the sand and soak up the sun, JJ had something else on his mind.

"Daddy!" Your daughter’s voice rang out, high-pitched with excitement as she splashed around near the water’s edge. "I want to go further! I want to swim like you!"

JJ grinned from ear to ear, watching his daughter run toward him with her tiny swimsuit bouncing as she ran. "You sure you're ready?" he asked, crouching down to her level.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, her face full of determination and a little mischief, just like her father. "I want to be like you, Daddy! I want to swim in the big waves!"

JJ chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Alright, cupcake," he said with a wink. "Let’s start with the basics. You trust me?"

She nodded, her blue eyes wide with trust, mirroring his. It was clear that she adored her dad, and JJ, always the carefree and energetic guy, was more than happy to pass on his love of the water to his daughter.

"Okay, here’s the plan," JJ said, scooping her up and carrying her toward the water. "We’re gonna take it slow. First, we’ll just get your feet wet, then we’ll move on from there. Don’t worry, I’ve got you."

You smiled as you watched the two of them interact. You knew how much JJ had grown since becoming a father. The wild, unpredictable guy who once couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes was now patiently teaching his daughter something as important as swimming, all while making her laugh, and cracking jokes to entertain both of you.

As JJ waded into the shallow water, holding his daughter carefully, he turned to her and said, "Okay, listen. The first thing you need to remember is to keep your head above the water. No matter what, keep your eyes on me, alright? I’ll be right here."

She nodded eagerly, gripping onto his neck as he gently waded deeper into the ocean, letting the water rise up to their waists. She giggled as the cool waves splashed over her legs. She was scared, but like her father she wouldn't admit it. That Maybank firceness.

"This is fun," she squealed, her voice high with excitement.

JJ smiled at her, his usual confident smirk turning softer. "I’m glad you think so. Now, ready for the next step?"

You could see his nerves underneath the surface, but he was determined to make this moment count. You knew he was a natural when it came to making people feel safe—especially his daughter—and you could see the bond between them growing with every moment.

"Okay, we’re gonna practice kicking," JJ explained. "You want to kick your legs like this," he demonstrated, giving her legs a gentle nudge to show her the motion. "Big, strong kicks, just like a dolphin."

His daughter laughed and kicked her legs, splashing water everywhere as she mimicked him. "Like this, Daddy?" she asked excitedly.

"Exactly like that!" JJ exclaimed. "You’re a natural, kiddo."

You watched as he continued to guide her through the motions, his voice calm and reassuring. "Good job. Now, let’s try floating on your back, alright?" he said, holding her securely in the water. "You’ve got to trust the water, trust that it’s going to hold you up."

She hesitated for a second, her tiny hands gripping his shoulders tightly. "But what if I fall, Daddy?" she asked, her voice small but brave.

JJ's face softened with understanding. He looked her in the eye, his hand gently smoothing back her wet hair. "You won’t fall. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go. You’re safe with me, okay?"

She looked up at him, her trust unwavering. "Okay, Daddy."

And just like that, she let go of her fears, leaning back into the water with JJ’s arms supporting her, guiding her to float. You could see the relief in her face as she finally relaxed, her tiny body gently bobbing in the water.

"There you go," JJ said, his voice full of pride. "You’re swimming, just like I knew you could. That's my girl."

. . . .

It was a warm Saturday afternoon when JJ came home from work, pushing through the front door. The moment he stepped inside, he noticed the scent of freshly baked cookies drifting through the house. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. No, it was the sound of his daughter’s giggles from upstairs—her voice light, teasing, and clearly way too excited about something.

He had taken a job that paid the bills, kept his family safe and fed. taken care of, even if he didn't really like it. an office job was boring, but he got to give his expertise on treasure hunting, and he worked with a lot of fun young archaeologists.

"Hey, kiddo, what’s going on?" JJ called out as he kicked off his shoes and made his way to the staircase.

Your daughter appeared at the top of the stairs, looking unusually... polished. Her hair was done in cute little braids, and she was wearing a floral dress you must’ve helped her pick out. JJ’s eyes narrowed as he gazed up at her.

"Dad!" she grinned down at him, clearly excited. "I’m going on my first date!"

JJ froze. He blinked, taking a moment for his brain to process what she just said. "Wait, what?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but the edge of disbelief was undeniable.

"Yep!" She bounced down the stairs, twirling around in her dress as if she were some grown-up at a fancy dinner. "His name’s Tyler. He’s from my history class, and he’s super nice."

JJ’s eyes widened, and he crossed his arms. "Hold up. Tyler? You’re going out with a guy named Tyler?" He shot a look at you, who was standing in the kitchen, trying (and failing) to hide a smile at JJ’s growing concern.

You stifled a laugh, seeing the protective father in action. "JJ, she’s just going on a date. Let her have fun."

JJ didn’t seem to hear you. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on his daughter. "How old is this Tyler?"

"He’s 17, Dad. Just a year older than me!" She said the last part like it was supposed to reassure him. But to JJ, that was exactly the problem. He had been that age once too. he could remember when he was all over you.

"Seventeen?" JJ muttered, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern. He wasn’t angry, but he was definitely... apprehensive. "I don’t care if he’s 25, you’re my little girl, Cupcake, and I—" He paused, trying to find the right words. "Are you sure about this?"

His daughter rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness behind her teasing. "Dad, I’m fine! He’s a good guy. You can trust me."

JJ stood up straight, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "Trust you? Of course, I trust you. But him?" He rubbed a hand through his hair, pacing for a second. "You’re my baby girl. What if he does something... something dumb?"

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of JJ—usually so calm and laid-back, now pacing like a lion in a cage. "JJ, she’s 16, not 5. She knows what she’s doing."

Your daughter crossed her arms, giving her dad a look that could only be described as an eye-roll combined with affection. "It’s not like I’m going to be out past midnight." she was just as sassy as he was.

You smiled softly, walking over to JJ and placing a hand on his arm to stop his pacing. "She’s going to be fine, love. It’s just a date, not a life-altering event. And you’ve raised her well—she knows what to look out for."

But JJ wasn’t entirely convinced. He turned to his daughter, his expression softening, though there was still a protective edge to his voice. "I want you to be safe. Text me when you get there, and when you leave, alright? And no funny business—no getting into cars with anyone, especially some dude named Tyler. Got it?"

His daughter snorted, clearly amused by his protectiveness, but she nodded. "Fine, fine, Dad. I’ll text you constantly so you can feel better."

"And no sneaking away or doing something crazy. You aren't some grown-up," JJ continued, his tone light, but there was no mistaking the worry behind his words.

"Got it," she said, shaking her head with a smile that screamed, “I love you, but you’re impossible.” JJ exhaled sharply, running his hand through his hair again. "And if you need me to come pick you up, for any reason, you call me. No questions asked."

"Dad, I’ll be fine," she reassured him again, now with an extra layer of affection in her voice. "Tyler’s cool, I swear." JJ’s face softened, his voice quieter. "I just... I just want to make sure you’re safe. That’s all. You’re my girl, and I love you more than anything."

You could see the softness in JJ’s expression, the deep affection for his daughter that made his words sound so heartfelt.

"Love you too, Dad," she said, hugging him tightly. "And I’m gonna be okay. Promise."

JJ hesitated for a second before hugging her back, lifting her up for a moment like she was still his little baby, even though she wasn’t. "Alright, alright. But if anything feels wrong, you come straight home, understood?"

"Understood," she replied with a smirk. "Can I go now?"

"One last thing." He ushers her to step forward, she shares his golden curls and has a few pieces astray that JJ pushes behind her ear in a loving way. "I just wanted to say that you look beautiful hun." JJ let her go, still looking a little too serious for your liking, but clearly trusting her judgment, even if he didn’t quite trust Tyler.

"Okay, but one last-last, thing," JJ added, running his hand through his hair again. "If he makes you uncomfortable at all, or if he’s not respectful—"

"Dad!" Your daughter groaned, cutting him off with a laugh. You chuckled as you watched JJ try to hold it together, clearly still struggling with the idea of his little girl dating. "Have fun, sweetie," you said, trying to ease the tension. "You’re going to be fine. Just be careful and enjoy yourself."

JJ watched her leave, his arms still crossed, eyes scanning the door long after she was gone. You could see the wheels turning in his head, but you knew it would take him a little while to relax completely.

As soon as the door closed behind her, JJ sighed deeply and flopped down onto the couch, running a hand over his face. "I swear, I’m going to need a drink after this."

You sat down beside him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. "She’s growing up, JJ. But she’s strong, and she’s smart. She’s going to be okay."

JJ let out a long breath, resting his head back. "Yeah, I know. Just... give me a minute to breathe, okay?"

You laughed softly, kissing his cheek. "Of course. I’ll be right here. Don’t worry."

. . . .

It was a Saturday evening when JJ’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. He was at home with you, the two of you enjoying a rare quiet moment after a busy week. Your daughter had gone out earlier in the day, saying she was meeting some friends at the park for a “social event.” She’d been passionate about certain causes recently, always talking about how she wanted to make a difference. You and JJ had talked about it, of course—your daughter was growing into a young woman with strong ideals. Still, the way she talked about it all made you both a little nervous, especially when you didn’t always know exactly what she was getting into.

She was just as mischieveious as her father was at that age, but less reckless. The Protesting was something she had been talking to her Aunt Kie Kie about recently. she was passionate, firey and full of life.

JJ was just pouring a glass of orange juice when the ringing sound cut through the silence again, followed by the unmistakable sound of an incoming call. He glanced at the screen, his brows furrowing when he saw the caller ID.

"It's the police," JJ muttered, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Y/N, ...something's wrong." You stood up immediately, your heart leaping into your throat as JJ answered the call, his voice tense. His free hand ran through his hair, clearly trying to maintain his cool. "What’s going on?" You held your breath as JJ’s face changed from concerned to something darker, more protective, as he listened to the person on the other end. Finally, after a long pause, he hung up, his face pale.

"JJ?" you asked, worry flooding your voice. He turned to you, his eyes wide. "It’s our daughter... She’s been arrested." Your heart dropped. "What? What happened?"

"They—she was protesting at a rally downtown," JJ explained, his voice shaking with barely contained anger. "It turned into a bigger protest, and things got out of hand. They arrested her for—" He stopped, shaking his head. "For disorderly conduct. Y/N, she’s in jail." Your daughter? Arrested? A thousand thoughts raced through your head. Your daughter, your sweet girl, had always been so passionate about causes she cared about, but you never imagined she’d get caught up in something like this. Your protective instincts kicked in, just as JJ’s had, but the question was: How did we get here?

Without another word, JJ grabbed his jacket and car keys. "Let’s go. We need to get her out of there." You nodded quickly, grabbing your purse and following him out the door. As you drove toward the police station, neither of you spoke much. There was nothing you could say to calm the growing sense of dread.

When you arrived, JJ wasted no time. He stormed inside with you following closely behind, his steps heavy with determination. The receptionist at the desk looked up with a weary expression as JJ slammed his palms onto the counter. "I’m here to get my daughter out. She’s been arrested. What do I need to do?" JJ demanded, his voice low but full of authority. The receptionist blinked but quickly typed something into the computer.

"Name?" she asked, clearly used to dealing with situations like this. "Maybank," JJ said, his voice not softening in the slightest.

After a brief exchange, the receptionist handed over some paperwork for JJ to fill out. The moment he finished, you both sat in a cramped waiting area, the silence between you only interrupted by the occasional footsteps echoing down the hall. JJ was vibrating with tension, his fingers tapping impatiently on his knee, his jaw clenched as he stared at the door leading to the holding cells.

"She’s gonna be okay, alright?" You asked quietly, even though you weren’t sure you believed the words yourself. JJ let out a breath, trying to calm himself. "I don’t know. I just… I never thought she’d be in a situation like this." He shook his head, frustration and fear clear in his eyes. "She was always so careful. Always so smart."

You could see his mind running through a dozen worst-case scenarios. He was terrified, and it broke your heart. You knew how fiercely protective he was of their daughter, how much he loved her.

"She’s strong, JJ," you said gently. "She’s been through tough things before. She’s a fighter. and she's just like you in that regard. She’ll be okay." Just as the words left your mouth, the door to the holding area opened, and a police officer appeared, followed by your daughter.

When JJ’s eyes locked on her, his breath hitched, and he shot up from his seat, rushing toward her. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice breaking, as he reached out to hold her. She looked tired, but she was alive and, more importantly, unharmed.

"Dad, I’m okay," she said softly, her eyes brimming with tears. "I didn’t mean for things to escalate like that. I just—"

JJ pulled her into a tight hug, his voice rough. "I don’t care what happened, baby girl. I’m just glad you’re okay. Don’t ever scare me like that again." You joined them, wrapping your arms around both of them. You could feel your daughter’s shoulders trembling, and you squeezed her tighter, knowing that she probably needed reassurance as much as JJ did.

"I'm so sorry, Mom, Dad," she whispered, her voice full of guilt. "I didn’t think it would go this far. It was supposed to be peaceful. I swear, I didn’t mean to get arrested."

JJ pulled back, his hands still on her shoulders as he looked at her. "I know you didn’t mean for this to happen, but you’ve got to be careful. You’re my little girl, and I don’t want you getting involved in something dangerous. You could’ve gotten hurt."

Your daughter nodded, tears slipping down her face. "I just wanted to make a difference. I thought this was the right thing to do. But… I don’t know anymore." You wiped away a tear from her cheek, your heart aching for her. "You are making a difference. But we need to make sure you’re safe while you do it, alright?"

JJ nodded, his voice much softer now, but still full of that protective fatherly instinct. "We’ll figure this out together, okay? But for now, we’re getting out of here. And next time—" He shook his head, unable to continue. He pulled her into another tight hug. "Next time, you text us first. No more surprises, okay?"

She nodded, her arms squeezing him tightly. "I promise, Dad." As you all walked out of the police station, JJ’s arm wrapped protectively around his daughter’s shoulders, the weight of the world still lingering on his shoulders. He hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon, but you knew that no matter what, he would always protect his daughter—just as fiercely as he loved her. Even if she reminded him of himself.

. . . .

You both sat on the porch once again, this time many many years in the future, graying and old. The cicadas still singing the same, the waves still lapping in the same old rhythm. The mosquitos out in full swing and the breeze tangling your silver hair. The moonlight is brisk.

You turn to the love of your life, the man who has been your everything since you were young once. You cut through the comfortable and loving silence finally. "JJ," you whisper. "Yes love?" His voice is now deeper, aged. It's raspy. "As our adventure comes to an end," you say. "I just want you to know that I love you." you say softly.

"I love you too." JJ says, "I wouldn't have wanted to have this life with anyone else. You are my everything." He smiles. You look out into the yard and remember all the highlights, highs lows and all, every moment up until now.

You gently rest your grayed head on his shoulder, the same as you did when you were young, and close your eyes.

[badbtssmut]

11. Make me see stars | Kinktober

Your friends are tired of seeing you depressed after your break up with your ex, so they take you to a show by stripper Jimin— but he gives you more than a lapdance and that all right in front of your friends!

Contains: MC has sex in front of her besties, eating out, blowjob, her friends cheer her on and yell things, MC appears embarrassed at times, Mc says things like no and stop a few times, her friends call her a slut, ngl this is really dirty lol and made me feel someway, he cums in her, from behind, missionary, friends make comments

Music playlist: xxx, me so horny, good puss, body, kream, orange

—

“You guys can’t be serious.” You scoffed, seeing the large poster of this surprise show your friends brought you to. “A private stripper show, really? I’m going home.”

You didn't even want to think about your birthday, let alone celebrate it at a strip club!

“Come oooon, y/n! You didn’t even try it! At least give the show a chance…. it will be fun! Trust us, pleaaase. If you really hate it we'll leave right away, no questions asked, promise!” They all looked at you with a hopeful look on their face.

You sighed, glancing at your friends, they looked like they were silently pleading with you, and part of you understood that this was their silly way of helping you get over your shitty ex.

"Fine... Whatever, remember you promised, if I wanna go, we go.”

—

When they mentioned a private show, you didn’t think that you would be the center of attention. You were sitting on a chair decorated with balloons with a banner saying ‘bday girl’ with ribbons hanging down and confetti everywhere. The room was dimly lit with a reddish neon hue and hovering over you was the hottest man you ever laid eyes on, not breaking eye contact as he grinded his body against you— your friends were cheering around you.

“Touch him, come on, y/n, don’t be shy!” One of your friends, Areum, giggled.

Your hands slowly reached out and ran over his chest and toned abs, Jimin smirked as you did and continued to move his body sensually.

“What’d you think y/n isn’t he soooo hot?” Your friend Nara giggled.

You didn't respond to your friend’s question as you watched Jimin dance on you. Honestly, you were keen on touching him, but you weren’t sure if you should… Jimin had you hypnotized by his smooth moves, and when the song changed, he moved his hand towards you and held it, gesturing you to his zipper.

The music was low and heavy, the bass thumping underneath your feet. Your friends giggled and cheered as you unzipped his pants and Jimin pulled his pants down, revealing his boxers. Jimin danced for a few more minutes, he had done this type of shows countless of times, yet he felt something different with you.

The stripper didn’t want to end the night with just dancing. You were stunning and your outfit emphasized your body in all the right ways— he wanted to hear pretty moans slip from your lips, he needed to have your insides rocked by his big dick.

“I have a special present for the birthday girl, is that ok with everyone in the room tonight?"

Of course, your friends were totally into whatever Jimin had planned for you.

Jimin got down on his knees and he leaned in closer, pressing his tongue against the fabric of your panties, testing out the waters. At which you left out a soft moan— it came as a surprise to you but you didn’t hate it, matter of fact, you waited with anticipation, wanting to know how far he would take things…

“Come on y/n! Let the pretty boy see your puss!” Nara encouraged and your friends joined in.

You moved your panties to the side, and he started to lick you. You shifted on the chair, letting out a soft moan as his head moved up and down, his slender fingers soon joining.

“Ooohh you gotta see her titties tooooo, she got te best titties!” Areum stood behind you and grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and exposing your chest.

Jimin looked up at you, nearly drooling at the sight of your bare wet pussy and your boobs that were threatening to spill out of your bra. “Yum, your friends are right, hot tits, very hot.” He said as he curved his fingers into you which made you squeal.

“Oh, that’s the spot? Here… or here? But how about here, hm?" Jimin smirked as you whimpered while his fingers showed no mercy, while his tongue flickered over your swollen clit.

You let out a soft whine, before your body trembled as you orgasmed at his touches, Jimin stopped with a content smile on his face as he stood, his fingers covered in your slick.

“Babe, you can’t leave him hanging, don’t you see how his cock is begging for relief?” Sana piped in.

“Yeah, look, if he gets even harder, his boxers will surely rip!” Nara pointed out.

You noticed it too, the bulge that stood out in his boxers. Your fingers trailed over the elastic band of the boxers and you pulled it down, letting his erection spring free.

Your friend clapped, cheers and laughter coming from them as they chanted:

“Suck that dick! Suck that dick! Whooooo!”

Your lips wrapped around his cock and you started to bob your head back and forth.

Jimin groaned, his fingers tangled through your hair, gently pushing your head down further in an attempt to try to get you to deep throat him. The man’s moans were barely louder than the music as you took him all in and continued to suck him off in a rhythmic tempo.

After a couple of minutes, your friends started to chant something else: “Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her! Fuck the birthday girl!”

Fuck, this was all so lewd and nasty, yet all of this made you so unbelievably horny.

Jimin was very eager to follow the crowd's demands and he promptly pulled his cock out. “Get on your knees sexy, look at your friends, show them how much of a good time you’re having.” And you did just that, turning to face your friends, your knees on the chair and your hands holding onto the chair's back, bracing yourself as you felt the head of his cock enter you.

“Such a big cock, oh shit, this feels illegal to watch, look at how she’s taking it all in!” Nara pointed and your friends watched.

“Ugh, stop…” You whined at them.

Jimin continued to push his full length into you, not stopping until every inch was in.

“Like that cock, y/n?” One of your friends teased.

“No.” You shook your head, not wanting to give them the satisfaction, and your lips tightly pressed against each other as you focused on taking him in.

“Oh really? Then why are you dripping wet?”

“Yeahhhh… and why does your pussy looks so eager to take in that huge dick, hm?”

“Shut up!” You pouted, your face feeling hot at their comments.

When Jimin was satisfied, he started to move his hips back and forth, his hands firmly held onto your hips as he thrusted into you to the beat of the music.

You let out a series of moans, your fingers gripped onto the chair harder, your friends stayed quiet for once as they admired the view. You closed your eyes and was unable to close your mouth as Jimin thrusted into you with steady strokes, his cock filling you up.

“Y/N, you are such a slut!” Areum laughed.

“She's not the slut, you're the one who's watching her getting fucked.” Sana pointed out and the group laughed.

You were in a haze, the sensations of him fucking you felt like a fever dream— he was so perfect, he knew just how to fuck you right. Everything faded to the background; the music, the chatter of your friends, the chair legs scrapping against the floor… all you could hear was the moist sounds of his cock and your pussy mixing together.

His fingers wrapped around the front of your throat and he pulled you back, your back pressed against his chest. “Getting tired, baby?” He whispered against your ear.

“Tired.” You only managed to reply. Your knees were burning and your legs felt sore.

Jimin hummed and he stopped, pulling his cock out. He turned you around and you sat back down on the chair, your back resting against it and facing him and your friends who were watching the two of you. You spread your legs when he leaned in and pressed his cock inside of you again.

“Oh, that's hot, look at how much she's dripping.” Nara giggled, pointing at the mess between your legs.

“Wow that cock must be so good, I’m jealous~” Areum cooed as she went ahead and unbuckled your bra, pulling it off.

“You guys talk too much, shut up.” You said through gritted teeth, feeling how Jimin was deliciously stretching you out once again before he started to thrust into you again.

You held onto his arms, your boobs bouncing as his hips met yours, two of your friends stood at your sides and spread your legs even further, just enough to border on the edge of it feeling uncomfortable.

Jimin rested his hands on your chest and cupped your breasts, his fingers spread over the surface and he lightly kneaded into them as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic, rougher.

You whimpered underneath him, feeling your orgasm nearing as he fucked you into the chair, it squeaking underneath you as he was pounding into your pussy, his cock relentlessly abusing your hole. The wetness dripped down your ass cheeks onto the chair, it was embarrassing how soaking wet you were for him, but you couldn’t help it— your pussy was only doing what it was supposed to do in response to the pleasure it was getting from his greedy dick.

“Make her cum, Make her cum!” Your friends chanted, encouraging him.

Jimin’s fingers dug into your boobs as he picked up the pace, a mere second in between his thrusts as he was starting to ram into you. Jimin was feeling it too, his tongue hanging over his bottom lip as he shut his eyes, you gasped and moaned, throwing your head back as you curled your toes.

He was fucking the life out of you.

“A… ah!” You let out a scream, your chest moved up and down rapidly as a hot wave crashed through your lower body, your body twitched and shook as your muscles tightened and relaxed again and again, you could see black spots as you came so hard that you thought you would pass out.

Fuck…

“Yes! Yes! Fill her up, fill her up!” They chanted.

Jimin rode your waves of orgasm, slowing down his thrusts to a lazy pace, your juices coating his shaft as he pushed in and out of your vibrations, and as your pussy clamped down hard on his cock, he was finally milked dry, his cum leaking into you and coating your insides with his load.

“WHOO! Yeah!” Your friends laughed and clapped.

Maybe tonight wasn’t that bad of an idea afterall.

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

okay! part 4 is here! still no dinner scene but hey, who doesn't like a telemachus and athena moment? huh? huh?

the post/thread that started this whole au

dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3

*later that day* *telemachus walking around the palace ground and speaking with athena about poseidon & also tomorrows family dinner*

telemachus: so, you said lord poseidon is your uncle, right?

athena: *under her breath to herself* unfortunately

athena: *to telemachus this time* he is indeed my father’s brother.

telemachus: what does he like? what’s his favourite food? does eat with you and the other gods on olympus?

athena: *not expecting to play 40 questions about poseidon*

athena: HU- *coughs* why do you want to know? i thought you studied the gods when you were younger?

telemachus: i mean yeah, but those are other people’s words. what better way than to ask his actual family?

athena: *regretting this conversation, but answers because it is telemachus asking*

athena: if you are looking to strike a conversation with him, i can say for certain he will be interested in anything about his kingdom, the sea.

athena: as for food, i’m sure you know we gods, do not require mortal food for sustenance.

telemachus: *confused and stops walking*

telemachus: *turns and looks up at athena* but you ate breakfast this morning with us? and other meals?

athena: *stops walking also and laughs a little at his confused face*

athena: *ruffles telemachus’ hair* yes i did. we can find it enjoyable, whether it be an offering, during a feast or with…

athena: *stops ruffling his hair & smiles warmly at telemachus* family.

telemachus: *smiles*

telemachus: *continues walking*

athena: *continues with him*

telemachus: so, you still never said what his favourite food was?

athena: *shrugs* i don’t know, fish?

telemachus: *laughs* well we certainly have plenty of that!

*both continue talking and walking together*

*a short while later*

telemachus: ok so even though he does have a place to live on olympus, he doesn’t live there? how come?

athena: the sea is his domain, i would expect he feels more comfortable being always part of it. he knows everything that is happening on and in it then.

athena: also, i’m sure that having my father be king of the gods while also being his younger brother, is not something he would personally want to be around all the time.

athena: i think if it were my younger brother…

athena: *imagines ares as king of the gods* *shakes the thought immediately away*

athena: *waves hand in front of her in dismissal* never mind that thought.

telemachus: *eyebrow raised in confusion* uh ok.

athena: as i was saying, my father, while he is a great & wise king of us gods, occasionally having to sometimes deal with his...

athena: *thinks to the lighting shaped scars on her face and body*

athena: …games, does not always end up good for those who play them.

telemachus:

telemachus: so, he just prefers living in his palace under the sea basically?

athena: pretty much, yeah.

athena: maybe you could save some more of your questions for my uncle at dinner tomorrow?

athena: trust me, i’m sure he’d love to talk about himself.

telemachus: yeah, i’ve got so much to ask him!

telemachus: not just about himself, but how he and my father came to be such good friends!

athena: *laughing to herself as she knows the truth of said friendship*

athena: oh i too would like to know…

athena: *has a thought* little wolf, you’re helping your mother and the palace servants plan everything for tomorrow, correct?

telemachus: yeah i am!

telemachus: actually, i probably should go and find mother to discuss things.

athena: *gently holds his arm before he can run off* before you go, i believe it would be best if we sat your father and my uncle right next to each other don’t you think?

athena: i normally know your mother and father would sit together as king and queen, but this is a family dinner, is it not?

athena: *grins* friends should be with friends.

telemachus: *holds hand up for a high five* that sounds like a great idea athena! that means you’re next to me, right?

athena: *hive fives and then smiles at telemachus* of course.

telemachus: *smiling back* okay, i’ll go and let mother know!

telemachus: *waves before heading into the palace* bye ‘thena!

athena: *waves back* goodbye telemachus.

athena: *now to herself* oh tomorrow will be fun indeed.

[chrislilcumslvt]

Rings… |C.S

Plot: After seeing Chris’s new TikTok you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking how good he looks with rings on

Why I’m writing it: um I had this idea from his new TikTok sooo yeaaa

Warnings: Fingering, virginity loss, pnv

RANDOM SONG CUZ I CAN BITCH DEAL WITH IT

Chris was currently in the kitchen fliming a tiktok while you were on the couch just watching him do it him and Matt made this little joke about how him and Matt looked alike the most so they both posted TikTok’s.

Once he was done he came to sit on the couch and edit the TikTok putting a text on the side that said “Me pulling up to the Matt Sturniolo look alike contest” you scooted over to him laying your head on his shoulder looking at his phone “what are you doing love” and looked over at you with a smile “just putting up a TikTok princess, were you watching?”

You smiled and looked at his hands seeing the familiar rings that Matt wore sometimes you picked up his hand in yours and said “Wow these look good on you” he smirked “Oh yeah you like them on me better than Matt?” you nodded even though you didn’t think of Matt like that, he trailed his hand up your thigh teasing the edge of your panties.

“How about we get these off yea princess..” you nodded Chris slowly took off your skirt along with your lacy pink panties when he got them off he threw them to the ground “we shouldn’t do this here princess let’s move to my room yea..” she nodded Chris picked her up bridal style taking her up to his room.

Chris put her down on the bed sitting down in front of her “You want my fingers or me first baby” she thought for a second “I want your fingers first..” “ok love” Chris was starting to take the rings off but when she saw he was taking the rings off “No no don’t take them off leave ‘em on..please..” Chris looked at her a little concerned “Why princess?” Then Chris clicked “Ohh I know why” she smirked slightly “You want me to touch you with them on right” he smirked “Yea baby please..” she whined for his touch “beg for my touch baby come on I know you can” Chris leaned down pressing soft kisses to her thighs “Please baby I need it so badly..” Chris grazed his fingertips on her clit making her whimper “M-More pleaseee..” she whined.

Chris smirked and ran a finger through her folds rubbing her clit in slow circles “Fuckkk..” she moaned quietly knowing Nick was in the other room Chris smirked knowing why she was so quiet “Yeahh just stay quiet baby don’t want Nick hearing you all those sounds are for me right baby.. no one else..” she nodded Chris slowly pushed his first finger in her, she moaned softly as she felt the cold metal on her hot needy pussy sending shivers on her body “Feel good princess..?” She nodded “Want another finger..” she nodded quickly nodded then chris slowly added another finger she felt the other ring hit her fold sending shivers through her body.

Chris started moving his fingers in and out of her in a slow motion “Gotta stretch you out before your ready for me baby..” she nodded and moaned quietly biting her lip slightly “fuck baby you feel so good your so damn tight..” she felt herself clenching around his fingers Chris went moved his fingers in and out of her in a faster pace “Yeahhh that’s it baby cum for me” she tried so hard not to scream or moan but she let out a loud moan “Fuckkkk!” She arched her back off the bed cumming all over Chris’s fingers she let out a soft sigh Chris let her come down from her high “You know I’m gunna have to clean up these rings and give them back to Matt right” he chuckled “Yea I know baby..” Chris then asked for the big question “Are you ready for me princess..” she looked a little scared but then calmed down letting out a soft sigh “Yea I’m ready..” “I’ll be gentle ok” she nodded and trusted him.

Once chris was fully stripped he slowly got on the bed getting on top of her kissing her head softly “Are you really sure you want this princess..”, “Yes baby I want this..” he nodded and positioned himself at her entrance rubbing the head of his cock in her recent release “Fuck…” he moan softly “I’m gunna start now ok..just tell me to stop if you need me to..” she nodded.

Chris pushed inside of her tight pussy “Fuck princess your so tight around me..” he moaned quietly , she whimpered softly at the burning sensation Chris immediately stopped “You ok..” “Mhmm just burns a bit” “Yea it’ll only hurt for a bit then you’ll start to feel good ok..”.

Chris was fully inside her and let her adjust to his size “Ready for me to move..” she nodded, Chris started moving his hips slowly not wanting to go fast just yet “Ohh fuckk.. you feel so much better than I imagined..” Chris moan quietly “B-Baby go faster please” she whined Chris moved his thrusts faster “Fuckkk! Take it baby take my fucking dick in your tight pussy..” “Ohh Chris!” She moaned out loud not caring if nick or Matt heard she didn’t care anymore she was having a great time.

“Fuck yeah baby you close?, I can feel you clenching around my cock you wanna cum for me baby..” she nodded Chris moved his hips faster “Fucking cum for me baby I’m so close” she moaned loudly feeling the knot in her stomach slowly snapping Chris’s hips slowly slowing down as he was close to cumming he thrust one more time before he felt the knot in his stomach snap “FUCKKK YESSSS!” He moaned loudly “Ohhh baby..” she whine, he pulled himself out of her and laid on top of her exhausted.

She smiled and threw the blanket over them and kissed his forehead but then suddenly Chris’s phone rang it was a text from nick

WRITER TYPING… OMG I FINALLY HAD THE MOTIVATION TO FINISH THIS HOPE YALL LIKE IT 😭

TAGLIST 1: @stayingstromboli @lollycoldzzz @conspiracy-ash @ijustbelurkingmymen @slutforsturniolosss

TAGLIST 2: @angvlarabella @shadowthesim @zariyam @adoreechxmpion @liiixsturniolos

TAGLIST 3: @chrisbabymomma @unknvhx @colorthecosmos444 @matts-myloverboy

[everyonewooeverywhere]

pairing ✭ sub!soobin x afab!reader

synopsis ✭ soobin just wants you to come home. he misses you so so much. but you left your panties on the bed...so maybe he'll be okay.

content/genre ✭ smut

word count ✭ 1k

notes ✭ this is a rewrite of one of my yunho fics 🤭

warnings ✭ smut, panty sniffing ☺️, mommy kink, sub soobin, dirty talk (mc calls soobin a whore & slut), masturbation

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

He knew he shouldn’t call you in the middle of the day. You were out with friends, getting lunch and shopping. He didn’t need to be by your side at every waking moment…but actually he did.

The bed felt so cold without you. No amount of blankets could replicate your touch. But he needed to let you be. It was noon anyway. He should probably get out of bed.

So…he called you. And it rang. And rang. And rang until eventually the tune faded and he was left with his own wildly impure thoughts. He could stop thinking about you. How good you had smelt after you’d spritzed your perfume in the bathroom. How good your legs had looked under that skirt. How gently you’d kissed him before you left.

Pressing a hand to his chest and pressing your freshly glossed lips to his own, “Be a good boy for me while I’m gone, okay?” 

He’d only nodded breathlessly before retreating to your bed and burying himself in your fluffy blankets. Bringing one of them up to his face and inhaling the scent of your shampoo and fabric softener that clung to the fabric. He could already feel himself getting unbearably hard.

And when you hadn’t picked up, he’d only gotten more and more needy. When he tossed his phone down next to him, though, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. 

Fuck.

You’d left a pair of panties on the bed. The ones you had just changed out of before you left. The light blue fabric printed with little bows was taunting him. 

He should put them in the laundry. Clean them for you. And let you kiss him on the forehead and call him a good boy for helping you out.

But they were so close. It was just so easy to take them. Keep them. Hide them in a special place. He should’ve felt more guilty. Where was that nervous knot in his stomach that kept him from doing stupid shit? Was this a boundary he really wanted to cross?

He reached across the bed and pinched the waistband, caressing the fabric with his thumb and dragging it closer to him. “Fuck,” he groaned softly as he gingerly picked them up. 

It was so wrong of him. Why was he acting this way? Like some kind of sex-depraved creep. He was your boyfriend for fucks sake. You buried his cock deep in your pussy nearly every day. Riding him and draining him dry. Leaving him a babbling whimpering mess every night before kissing his cheeks and caressing his hair until he inevitably fell asleep in your arms.

And was here returning the favor by burying his nose in your panties, whimpering at the scent of you left on them. He finally pulled his aching cock out of his shorts (he always forwent underwear in the house). The precum leaking out of the tip was more than enough to lube himself up as he teased himself. Starting the pumps painfully slow. Grazing a finger over the underside. 

He was a whining mess. Whimpering into your panties, picturing you sitting on his face. He imagined you breathing in his ear.

I thought you were gonna be my good boy?

No? You’re gonna be a little whore, aren’t you.

It’s ok~ Mommy likes needy little sluts anyway.

He shuttered at the thought of your breath on his neck. Degrading him just like he deserved, “Hmmm, mommy,” he whimpered, “‘M sorry–fuck–’m sorry mommy.”

The words came out as barely coherent babbles that he choked out between breaths. Pumping his cock desperately and erratically in his fist just to get a fraction of the feel of you. 

He brought the panties down to his cock and rolled over onto his stomach. He gripped your pillow for dear life, moaning and sobbing into it as he furiously jerked himself off. The control he had over himself was wearing thin. He kept grinding into your mattress, too. Trying to give himself just a little more friction. 

It was so overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. Everything smelt like you. The pillow, the sheets, the blankets tangled between his legs. But nothing felt quite like you. Not his fist, not the panties, not anything he could get himself.

The whimpers come out as he aimlessly begged, “Need you. Mmm…need you so bad.” His grip on his cock tightened as he felt himself get closer, “Need mommy’s pussy. Hah–please.”

He imagined you chucking at him. Condescending telling him that, “Mommy’s right here. You have mommy’s pussy.” You’d grip his cheek between your fingers, “Don’t tell me you need more?” And you’d pout out your bottom lip as his eyes welled up with tears, “Baby boy can’t get off by himself, can he? Needs some help?” And he’d nod desperately. He’d have no resolve, no dignity left. Just an empty head filled with the desire to cum.

The more he thought about your dirty words the closer he got. So so so close. “Please please please,” he whined, “Mommy please let me cum. ‘M your good boy. Please–’m a good boy.”

And just the thought of you telling him, “Go ahead baby. Cum for mommy,” made him cum. A lot. All into your panties and over your sheets and he shook under your blankets. Sobbing into your pillows. 

When he collapsed fully into your pillows, he had to take a few minutes to catch his breath. Trying to realize what had just happened. He pulled your blanket up to his neck snuggling further into your bed. 

His phone buzzed next to him. And he groaned as he stretched over to grab it. Only to see a text from you. 

angel : what happened to being my good boy soobin?

angel : i can’t leave you at home for a few hours without you breaking the rules, can i?

What the fuck? He clicked out of the chat quickly to check his call log. And there it was.

You’d been on the phone the whole time.

general taglist: @swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez @funnyvxlentine

txt taglist: @shinyj3lly

[eddiegettingshot]

The whole Eddie moving to Texas thing I feel like is how they continue the story of Eddie actively choosing joy for himself and also using it as a way for Eddie to finally stand up to his parents. Rn he sees the situation as this:

My son is in El Paso because of a mistake I made. I’m missing out on him growing up. Therefore, I will move to El Paso to be with my son. Even though my son hasn’t said anything about me wanting to move there or him staying there permanently, I will assume this is what he wants therefore it’s the best decision for both of us.

But once he realizes that if he actually wants to make a decision on what is “best for Christopher,” he needs to make a decision on where he himself is the happiest. Which is definitely away from his own parents. He needs to choose his own joy for once instead of someone else’s, because sacrificing himself for what he thinks what Chris wants won’t help either of them in the long run.

Once he does this, some of the situation will be still somewhat the same, but Eddie will also highlight how his parents role in this has led the situation to where it is now. He’ll finally stop punishing himself for making this mistake, and instead will start trying to fix it.

With this new perspective, Eddie will start viewing the situation like this:

My son went to El Paso because of a mistake I made, but he’s still in El Paso because my parents were too eager to scoop him up when they found out about the mistake I had made. (We saw him touch on this lightly already during conversation with the priest). I’m missing out on him growing up because the adults who are taking care of him currently aren’t telling me stuff about my son that I should know. Therefore, instead of moving to El Paso to be with my son, I will visit El Paso to be with my son. And since my son hasn’t said anything about wanting to stay in El Paso permanently, I will talk to him while I’m there visiting him about what he wants instead of just assuming what he wants. What is best for me is to be in LA where I have built a career, and with it a family. And what’s best for Christopher is for him to be with me, in a place where I’m the happiest. Therefore I will fight to get him back.

Ok I’m done rambling. Just wanted to say that I agree with you that I don’t think Eddie actually going to move to El Paso, because it would be reductive to his most recent storyline.

i agree that this is related to his choosing joy, but i kind of really disagree with this reading. you're framing it as a mistake in eddie's thought process but i fundamentally do not think that this is him making a poor decision because he's making assumptions about what chris wants. he's doing this based on quite literally what he is being shown and told. chris KNOWS that eddie wants him to come home. eddie's parents KNOW that eddie wants chris to come home. but there is literally no sign that chris seems interested in doing that at this point because eddie's parents are doing nothing to foster reconciliation AND eddie's parents have set up a situation wherein eddie asking that question looks like possibly threatening chris's happiness—which is fragile because of HIM. what eddie knows is that christopher left los angeles to get away from him. moving to el paso is going against what eddie believes christopher wants. like, yes, he's making a sacrifice, but it's not for chris's own good, it's for HIS own good.

the point is that eddie doesn't want to sit in los angeles 800 miles away from his son waiting and hoping that chris will change his mind or his parents will suddenly start telling him things. it makes him MORE miserable to be far away from chris. THAT is why he's considering moving to texas: because getting to watch chris grow up is a part of EDDIE'S joy. this IS the only choice he feels like he can make in order to fight for their relationship because he literally HAS been trying this whole time to do what he thinks is best for chris and punishing himself in the process—staying away and letting things happen—and all it's done is driven a wedge in between them. which is why he's not doing that anymore!

choosing to be where christopher is IS him choosing joy in whatever way he can, without feeling like he's putting chris at risk! because, yes, eddie needs to choose joy, but what's just as important to him is that chris is still allowed to make choices. this IS the beginning of him fighting for chris! but you're assuming that he has a full picture of what's happening, and that he's actually in a position where he and chris can have an honest conversation without risking someone getting hurt, and that's just not the case at all.

[co-psycho]

Face Sitting with Eren

a/n: hey guys….sorry for not posting in so long, I’ve been having reader block for so long. Like seriously I’ve been just putting of writing for like 3 whole months now. After the voting I did start writing the FaceTime call smut story with Eren but I literally just don’t know what to add so I’ll try to get it out before the end of November.

Since I’ve been keeping you all waiting for so long I’ll just post this to make up for the long wait.

I was also asked to post an Armin twitter link so that will be out soon too.

Cw: Oral sex f! Receiving

“Are you sure about this?”

He could hear the doubt that was lingering in your voice. Nervousness and shock was spread throughout your face as you look below him.

His lips brush against your softly as you grind on his lap. You feel his warm his gliding up the sides of your body slowly, holding onto you tightly as if you might slip away.

The kiss was passionate and slow. A smile slowly creeped onto his lips. He was going to ask for something. You just know it.

“Baby”. Can we try something new?”

And now you’re here hovering your slick over his face. The embarrassment rushes over your face as you imagine what you probably look like.

“If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have asked you and don’t feel pressured into doing this, we can stop if you want”.

“No…I want to try it”.

His face now had a big smile planted on his face. “Ok so sit”.

He was laid flat on his back on the bed you both shared. “What if you can’t breathe?”

“I’ll tell you if I can’t breathe”.

“What if I’m too heavy of what if you get hurt?”

He found it cute how flustered and worried you were getting. You were asking so many questions, to many in his opinion.

“Baby, I promise if anything doesn’t seem right I’ll stop you right away. Ok, don’t stress over it so much”.

You take a deep breath before nodding your head yes.

You slowly lower yourself onto his face. When you finally lay fully on his you feel his arms wrap around your thighs.

The air from his nose was slow and steady.

You gasped when you felt warmness lap at your clit. He tongue licked at your clit slowly, teasing you for his pleasure.

The thought of sitting on your boyfriend’s face and there being a possibility of killing him or injuring him somehow frightened you.

You remember ‘if I need to breathe I’ll tap you’ Erens words.

You fully let your weight sit on him. The feeling was weird. You could feel every time he shifted his head. His nose bumping your clit every now and then.

He licked and sucked at your clit sooo slow, it was driving you already into a frenzy. His nails pierced your skin once he got a good grip and pace.

You slowly start to ruck your hips forwards and backwards riding his face. The friction of rubbing against his tongue was started to become a little overwhelming.

Your hips started to become steady as you moved faster on his face gripping his dark brown locks.

The feeling of your most sensitive part of your body on top of his face made you and eren have feelings you’ve never felt before.

It was a sense of connection that was yet so intimate at the same time.

That warm heat was building up so quick, you’ve never experienced almost coming un done so fast. Leaning yourself more back you rubbed at Eren’s strained cock in his pants.

He shooed your hand away when you fingers started to trace the hardened outline of his cock in his pants.

His cock was straining and begging to be touched or get any source of release. Pants that were once loose become tight from his hard cock. Pre cum was starting to stain his pants from being so turned on by your beautiful and soft moans slipping from your lips.

Your hips move faster as you felt your orgasm approaching fast, grabbing onto your tit you twist your harden nip that makes you moan louder.

He held onto your legs tightly as you started to squirm from the warmth in your slit that was starting to grow more and more.

Your legs began to shake from overstimulation. The firing surge of your orgasm whelmed through your body, feeling hot and heavy as a breath you didn’t even know you were holding was let out.

You rolled onto the other side of the bed panting heavily. Catching a glimpse at Eren his cheeks were flushed red, his nose down to his chin was covered in your arousal. You watched as he licked his lips and looked over at you.

“Did you like it?” He asked between each breath.

You nodded your head as a smile creeped onto your lips. “We should do that again sometimes”. You said shyly.

“Let’s do it again…right now”.

It’s pretty short but I’m surprised I even finished it

Anyways I hoped you enjoyed

[vykodlak]

im a perfectionist as well. tips on how to actually finish stuff...? art specifically

Ahh well! This is something I struggle with too, and I haven’t really found the perfect solution. Truth is I can go days and days without finishing anything and just starting new projects because I’m rarely happy with anything I make.

Most of the time I have to force myself. Keep the drawing open 24/7 so it has no chance to get lost & forgotten in your WIP folder. Set a schedule. I sit down to draw for an hour every day after work, and also if you’re really struggling you can set a deadline, that is “whatever this looks like by this date, I’m not touching it any more”. Doesn’t have to be a time or date even; I’ve done deadlines like “ok, I’ve rendered every important body part, unless something is standing out egregiously then I am done”. The less time I spend lookin at something, the less chance I have to nitpick it.

If you really can’t stop yourself from nitpicking, I’ve found it helps to sit with my mistakes and whatever parts of the drawing displease me and acknowledge that there’s not much I can do to fix them right now. It sort of helps break the loop. If you’ve spent several days redrawing the same hand you gotta stop, write down “practice drawing hands so I can do this better in the future” and make yourself settle for good enough #giveup

It also helps if I have someone there to compliment the shit out of whatever I’m working on. I usually ask my bf for critique but more often than not he’s just happy to tell me how awesome and spectacular whatever I’m drawing is 😎 it helps quiet down the nitpicky part of my brain. He says “perfectionism is going to burn your booty cheeks.” which I’m taking as “you’ll feel worse if you literally don’t make anything for months than if you made something that’s not 100% up to your standards”.

Wish I had a better answer but it’s tough out here, stay strong 😔

[beautification-tales]

The Wereslut part 2

A tale of periodic transformations

"Come on, Ginge, you've got to check this out!" exclaimed Brigitte, her eyes glued to the screen as a group of pirates fought with exaggerated flailing and yells.

Ginger rolled her eyes, the scent of popcorn and the warm glow of the TV the only comfort in the otherwise cold apartment. She knew full well what was going to happen next, having watched the episode a hundred times with her best friend. But she couldn't help the smile that crept onto her lips as she leaned in closer, the anticipation of their favorite scene building.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the dramatic music and the clanging of swords like a knife. Brigitte's enthusiastic "Who could it be?" was met with Ginger's knowing look. It was Sam, the neighbor who had a knack for interrupting their Friday night marathons.

Sam waltzed in, his cheeky grin lighting up the room. "Looks like the weebs are at it again," he said, tossing a bag of chips onto the coffee table. He was tall and muscular, a stark contrast to Brigitte's plush figure. His teasing was all in good fun, though, and the girls had grown used to his playful banter.

“Babe I told you tonight it’s girls night ok?” Ginger called out as Sam sailed through the doorway, a playful scowl etched on her face. She knew he was joking, but she couldn’t help feeling a little annoyed. “I just miss you babe.” Sam said with a shrug, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He knew that Ginger’s friendship with Brigitte was sacred, almost a religion in itself, and interrupting was like walking into a church mid-mass. But his curiosity always got the better of him.

“You are so lucky you are cute.” Ginger replied, approaching her tall boyfriend. She got on her tiptoes and pouted. Sam bent down and kissed her lips. “But seriously, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She glanced back at the TV, where the climax of the battle was reaching its peak. “Dinner and FullMetal Alchemist Brotherhood right?” Sam asked with a hopeful smile. Ginger nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s a date.”

With a dramatic sigh, Sam kissed her on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.” He turned to leave, waving at the screen. “Take care of the Straw Hats for me!” he called over his shoulder, his laugh echoing down the hall. Brigitte turned to her best friend. “You didn’t have to make him leave you know.”

“I know, but we need our time, bestie,” Ginger said, tossing a piece of popcorn in the air and catching it in her mouth. “Besides, you know how he gets when he watches with me. After two episodes…. There isn’t much watching.” Ginger giggled at the thought of Sam's inability to sit through their anime binges without trying to have sex with her.

Brigitte nodded, her cheeks reddening slightly. “I totally get it. You guys have that kind of relationship. But, you know, I wish I had someone who was like that with me.” She playfully elbowed Ginger's side, causing her to spill some popcorn on her shirt.

“But seriously how did things change between you two? A few months ago you were crushing on him. Now he can’t get enough of you.” Ginger threw another piece of popcorn at Brigitte, who caught it with a grin. “What can I say, the universe finally realized I’m irresistible.”

“Come on you know I know you better than that. Remember Frank? You were a nervous wreck around him and he’s not even close to how hot Sam is. So what is the secret? Are you a witch now?” Brigitte said, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Huh? What? No! Me?” Ginger stuttered, her cheeks flushing. She paused the episode, turning to face Brigitte. “It’s just that Sam’s really into me, you know? And I figured out what makes him happy. That’s all there is to it.”

“I was joking but now I know you’re hiding something.” Brigitte said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Ginger felt a knot in her stomach, realizing she might have said too much. She also felt her burn mark ache as it typically does on the full moon. It was a secret she hadn’t shared with anyone, not even her best friend.

Ginger looked at her friend. She knew lying would be impossible as Brigitte was practically like a sister. Plus, she had always been terrible at keeping secrets. She took a deep breath and decided to tell part of the truth. “Ok a few months back. Sam came over to talk and we had sex… but like animals. It was like I was someone else that night.”

Brigitte’s eyes widened. “Oh my god Ginge, you gotta give me the details! What happened?” Her voice was a mix of excitement and shock. Ginger felt a thrill run through her as she remembered the night she had transformed for the first time.

“It was just... intense. Sam was being sweet like always and… I couldn’t help myself. I just let my instincts take over and next thing I know, we’re tearing into each other like it’s the last night on earth.” Ginger paused, her eyes glazed over with the memory. The burn mark on her hand began to throb faintly.

“Wow, that’s so not like you. It’s about time you got some though. At least one of us anyway.” Brigitte said, popping another piece of popcorn in her mouth. The crunch was loud in the suddenly tense silence. Ginger inhaled hard as her senses heightened in the moment. Her heart beating so fast as she massaged the mark on her hand. “You just need something to bring out the slut in you.” Ginger said licking her lips.

Ginger’s mind raced as she felt a familiar tingle throughout her body. It wasn’t a full moon tonight but the beginning feeling of pain and pleasure grew stronger. “You know what? Maybe we should call it an early night.” She said, trying to change the subject. “Oh no you don’t! You finally spill the beans and talk about being a slut” Brigitte shook her head knowing something was up with her friend. “I fucking knew you had something up your sleeve. How did you do it? Lingerie? You’ve been practicing BJ’s on bananas? Spill!”

“Mmmm all of the above and more.” Ginger said, her voice trailing off. The burn on her hand was now a constant pulse, a gentle reminder of the power that lay dormant within her. Ginger’s nails began to grow longer and sharper, a hint of the transformation that was slowly taking over. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that tonight. “I fucking took his cock and squeezed every last drop of cum out of it. You should have heard how he screamed my name.”

Brigitte’s eyes widened further, her cheeks turning a darker shade of red. “Holy porno Batman, you never talk like this!” She leaned in, eager for every detail. Ginger couldn’t help but feel a thrill as she revealed her deepest secret. “I was just so wild, Brige. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It was like I had to have him, like my life depended on it. And after that, everything changed. He just couldn’t get enough of me. And I liked it.”

The room grew warmer, the tension thick as the scent of Ginger’s arousal filled the air. Her pulse quickened and her teeth grew sharper, Ginger enjoyed the feeling as she could smell her best friend’s excitement. She inhaled and closed her eyes as the animal within her took charge.

“It’s like I become someone else. Someone fierce, someone who knows exactly what she wants.” Ginger whispered, her eyes snapping open to reveal pupils dilated with desire. The TV flickered, the battle forgotten as the two friends locked eyes. “Someone who’s not afraid to take it,” she finished, her voice a seductive purr.

Before Brigitte could respond, Ginger leaned in, her sharp teeth grazing the soft flesh of Brigitte’s neck. She gasped, a mix of fear and arousal. Ginger’s grip tightened around her friend’s arm, the claw-like nails digging in slightly, leaving red marks. “What the hell, Gin?” she murmured, her heart racing.

Ginger clamped down as her fangs pierced her friends skin. Ginger closed her eyes as it felt so right to taste the flesh of her friend. Brigitte’s scream of surprise and pain woke Ginger from her trance as she pulled her teeth out and jumped back.

“Owww! That fucking hurt!” Brigitte exclaimed, pushing Ginger on her shoulder. Ginger’s eyes snapped back to normal, the painful throb in her hand subsiding. She looked tongued at her teeth, surprised to see them still human. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Are you okay?” she asked, genuine concern lacing her voice.

Brigitte rubbed her neck, her eyes wide. “What the actual fuck, Ginge? Did you just bite me like a vampire?” She was more shocked than scared, looking at her friend like she’d just sprouted a second head. The two girls stared at each other, the air in the room heavy with confusion.

Ginger’s eyes grew wide with horror. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I just felt... I don’t know, something strange.” She took a step back, her hands shaking as she tried to understand the sudden, uncontrollable urge she’d had.

Brigitte closed her eyes as she breathed in slowly, her hand still pressed against the spot where Ginger’s teeth had grazed her skin. “I-I think I should go home,” she stammered, her voice shaking. She grabbed her bag and coat, her movements jerky and unsure. “Ah, yeah, maybe that’s for the best,” Ginger said, her own voice trembling. She felt a pang of guilt and confusion at her actions, unsure of what had come over her.

As Brigitte moved towards the door, Ginger reached out to grab her arm gently. "Sorry again about this. Forgive me.” she whispered, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

“It’s okay. It just hurts.. a lot. So next time you want to get kinky with me… Warn me. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Brigitte replied, her voice quivering as she tried to put on a brave face. Ginger nodded, her mind racing as she watched her best friend leave, the door closing behind her with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.

Alone now, Ginger took a deep breath and sank into the couch. Her heart was pounding, and she could still taste the coppery tang of Brigitte’s blood on her tongue. She stared at her hand, the burn mark now pulsing in rhythm with her racing heart. What was happening to her?

Brigitte went down the stairs and got into her car. The cold air outside was a stark contrast to the heat that was still burning through Ginger’s apartment. The pain in her neck was subsiding but the memory of Ginger’s teeth remained vivid in her mind. She couldn’t shake off the feeling of Ginger’s teeth sinking into her flesh, the sharpness of pain giving way to a weird sense of warmth.

Once home, she tossed her bag onto the chair and flopped onto her bed, still in shock. She touched the bitemarks on her neck, feeling the slightest hint of arousal. It was weird but she couldn’t help but think of it as some kind of strange foreplay. She lay there for a while, trying to process the events of the evening. Her thoughts were interrupted by the throbbing pain in her neck growing stronger, pulsing with each beat of her heart.

Her eyes grew heavy, and she felt a strange lethargy wash over her. Her body begged for sleep, and she gave in, drifting off into a fitful slumber filled with vivid dreams.

The next evening, Brigitte awoke to the harsh light of day streaming through her bedroom window. Her neck was sore, and she touched the bitemarks again, feeling the roughness of the scabbed skin. She sat up, the events of last night playing back in her mind like a surreal movie. She knew she had to talk to Ginger about it, but what was she going to say?

Ginger had been her best friend since they were kids. They had been through thick and thin together, sharing every secret and every awkward moment. But this was different. This was something she couldn’t just laugh off or pretend didn’t happen. This was something that could change everything between them.

Brigitte took a deep breath and stepped out of her apartment, the cold night air hitting her face like a slap. She hurried down the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought of facing Ginger was terrifying, but she had to know. Was she okay? Was it some kind of weird kink she had stumbled into? Or was there something more?

When she arrived at Ginger's door, she paused, her hand hovering over the buzzer. What if Ginger had done it on purpose? What if she had some weird vampire fetish she hadn’t told her about? But she knew Ginger wasn’t like that. She was her best friend, her confidant. There had to be a reasonable explanation. With a determined nod to herself, she pressed the button and waited, her heart racing with anticipation.

The door swung open, and Ginger’s face fell when she saw Brigitte. "Oh, hey it’s not a good time tonight," she said, her voice shaky. "Sam and I have plans." Brigitte gave an annoyed look as she barged in. “Tough titties! We need to talk about this!” Brigitte angrily pointed to her bite.

As if on cue a knock on the door interrupted the tension. Ginger looked at the clock, surprised to see it was already 8 PM. She rushed to the door opening it. Sam was standing outside, looking as handsome as ever. “Tonight’s the night baby we are going to fuu oh hey Brigitte! You’re here too!” Sam said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Brigitte, noticing the redness around her neck.

“You have to go Brigitte. It’s late we’ll talk tomorrow.” Ginger’s voice was firm but her eyes were filled with regret. “No fuck that! Sorry Sam but your girlfriend bit me last night. It was definitely sexual so… What the fuck?!” Brigitte’s voice grew louder as she stepped into the apartment, noticing the candles and rose petals scattered on the floor.

“Plus it’s like still hurting like a bitch! Do you have rabies or something?” In unison Ginger and Sam answered Brigitte. “Or something.” They exchanged a nervous glance as Sam stepped into the apartment, his smile fading as he realized her puncture marks.

Ginger felt the burn on her hand grow hotter, the transformation starting to take hold. She knew she had to tell her, but how could she explain something she didn’t fully understand herself? The room spun as her body began to shift, the pain and pleasure mixing into a heady cocktail that made her knees weak. She leaned against the wall for support, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Too late to explain it.” Ginger whispered to herself, the transformation taking her over. Her body grew taut, muscles stretching and bones popping as she began to morph before their very eyes. Her skin shimmered and her eyes grew brighter, her short dull red hair lengthened and thickened into fiery waves that cascaded down her back. Her teeth grew sharp and her nails elongated into gleaming red claws.

Ginger moaned in pleasure as her breasts grew larger, the fabric of her shirt straining against the newfound weight. Her body was changing, and she could feel the power surging through her as her skin shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Her bra straps dug into her shoulders, a stark reminder of the human constraints that no longer applied to her. The burn on her hand had spread up her arm and across her chest, leaving a trail of fiery agony that only added to the exhilaration coursing through her veins.

Brigitte’s eyes widened in shock and pain as she watched Ginger’s transformation. The bitemarks on her neck burned like a brand, the pain searing through her body and bringing with it an unexpected arousal that made her knees buckle. She reached up to touch them, her hand shaking as she felt her own body begin to change. Her breasts swelled, pushing against the fabric of her sweater, and she could feel the weight of them in a way she never had before. Her skin grew warm, and she felt the sudden need to rip the fabric from her body.

Her eyes grew brighter, and she could see the room with a new clarity, as if the world had been painted in high definition. The colors were more vivid, and the sounds around her grew sharper. The scent of Sam’s aftershave filled the room, making her nostrils flare as she took in his musky scent. Her own body was responding in ways she had never felt before, and she knew that she too was becoming something more than human.

Brigitte’s transformation was more subtle but no less dramatic. Her once soft, plush figure grew taut and curved in all the right places. Her hips widened, and her waist narrowed, creating a figure that was both powerful and alluring. Her skin glowed with an inner fire, and her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. She had always felt self-conscious about her weight, but now she felt like she could take on the world.

Sam’s jaw dropped as he took in the scene before him. Two beautiful, powerful women, one his girlfriend and the other his girlfriend’s best friend, were standing before him, both of them oozing a sexuality that was almost palpable. His eyes darted between them, his body responding in a way that was almost painful. He could feel his cock swell in his pants, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out and touching them.

Ginger’s transformation was complete, and she now stood before him in all her glory, her fiery red hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of molten lava. Her eyes glowed with an inner fire that made him want to drop to his knees and worship her. And Brigitte, oh Brigitte, she looked like a goddess in the making, her skin a soft glow that made him want to trace every curve with his tongue.

Ginger growled “oh Sam life just keeps giving you gifts.”