#it’s a relief some of you like him as much as I do fr

[cxs-workshops]

Hey Cyber, I didn't know whether to send this to you here or your main, but I wanted to draw Quin for you!! I'm so sorry that people have been rude for no reason, they literally don't know what they're talking about. Your art is incredible, and so is Quin and all your ocs, like fr fr Anyway, I hope this helps, even a little!! He was so fun to draw and I hope I did him justice haha <3

OMFG AAAA!! GUYS LOOK. More Quin fanart I can’t take it 😭😭😭💖💖💖 Thanks for taking the time to send and draw this, I’m so touched!!

The last week or so have been really rough but a lot of you guys have made me feel a bit better, thank you so much 💖 I may be feeling inspired again!

[lewisvinga]

the designer vs. the model | charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary; fans begged and begged fashion icon and designer y/n to help charles out, luckily for him, she gave him the girlfriend effect

fc; jennie kim

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs

note; requested !

masterlist !

liked by yourbestfriend, and others

yourusername: cannes film festival; the design, before & after 🎀

username: AN ICON

username: i knew she’d eat this gala up😩

yourbestfriend: my beautiful talented best friendddd😻

yourusername: hehe love u xx

username: her talent needs to be studied

username: pls style charles_leclerc he needs help

username: studying fashion to be just like y/n!

username: y/n we need your talent on the f1 grid specifically in the ferrari garage specifically charles_leclerc

username: heyyy girl, u gonna need to share your styling talents w a certain monegasque 😁

username: oh i just know she’d give charles the girlfriend effect

username: STYLE CHARLES_LECLERC

yourusername: whaaaa ö

liked by pierregasly, yourusername, and others !

charles_leclerc: new profession: photographer

username: omg y/n liked!

username: we bullied him into only wearing sweatshirts and jeans omg 😭😭

username: thats what he gets for his horrendous style…

pierregasly: imagine you as a photographer 😂

charles_leclerc: hey! i’m not too bad!

username: yourusername pls help this poor man , he has very poor fashion taste🙏

username: ok this fit isn’t too bad, plain! but not that bad!

username: yourusername mother pls help father out

yourusername: i think the people want me to style you , haha !

charles_leclerc: my style can’t be that bad, no?

yourusername: it could use some improvement…

charles_leclerc: well, i’m open for suggestions!

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; don’t worry ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna make sure he has a good wardrobe 😇!] [caption 2; designing n making some new pieces for his closet 😵‍💫]

charles_leclerc uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; the forced smile after i showed her some outfit ideas…] [caption 2; her real smile after i got her a latte for being patient w my poor fashion skills😁

liked by yourusername, carlossainz5, and others !

charles_leclerc: photo dump , but do you notice any new fashion improvements ? 😁

yourusername: much better than those horrendous blue and white pants …

charles_leclerc: they weren’t that bad

yourusername: cha…… they were horrid

username: wait…. he fr looks good

yourusername: he’s got a pretty face but thats just enhanced by the better fashion sense!😁

charles_leclerc: u think i’m pretty?😊

yourusername: ur my prettiest model

username: OH HELLO

username: hes 100% dating y/n bc thats an improvement from that horrid blue outfit 😭

username: muy buenos días y que vivan los hombres 😍 [very good morning and long live men]

username: his style is improving, everyone cheered!

username: the sigh of relief i just let out

carlossainz55: mate, you have everyone relieved from your new fashion improvements 🤣

charles_leclerc: and i can see why after i looked at my old outfits…

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: the designer vs. the model 🌸

tagged; charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: where would my closet be w/o you, chérie…

yourusername: unfortunately, seen in the public

charles_leclerc: my favorite and the most prettiest designer ❤️

yourusername: you’re my favorite and the most prettiest model 💞

username: oh my goodness gracious me

username: STOPP THEYRE SO CUTE😖😖

username: she got him a good pair of glasses thank u queen y/n

username: them at the basketball game together 🥹🥹🥹🥹

username: we’re abt to get the best charles outfits thank u y/n😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

yourbestfriend: watch your back sharl she was mine first

charles_leclerc: womp womp she’s mine now

yourusername: ladies, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around ( btw yourbestfriend come over asap i need to do another fitting on u )

[taegularities]

colour me in: redraft | jjk (m)

Summary: The calm is more appreciated after a storm. Life with Jungkook proves to you that sometimes, joy can, in fact, overshadow grief. Yet, not without confronting and removing all hurdles standing in your way once and for all.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some tame angst, sooo much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: new relationshippppp, so much hugging and kissing, yoongi!! tae!!, tears, abandonment issues, talk about social anxiety (just briefly and nothing serious!), jungkook drops a big question :'), a surprise in the middle, a surprise near the end, and then a SURPRISE at the end lol, many surprises, they're so crazy for each other it's gross; explicit sexual content: okay – kook is wearing a chain.. this vibe :'), making out, showering together, shower sex, spanking, biting, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, mouth/face f*cking, mirrorssss, he likes her ass and tiddies, tears, choking, v brief ass stuff, rough and soft sex, dom and big cawk jk, vocal jk, multiple orgasms, they're simps; ALSO YEAH THE ENDING :') ➳ word count: 25.3k ➳ a/n: so when i said this chapter would be shorter… welp lol. but i still think it introduces the next arc really well. i kinda love the ending!! .. and the next part will be </3 :'''') as always beta'd by my lovely @missgeniality 🤍 i hope you guys like this one a lot. worked my ass off for this fr :') if you do, please do support the chapter and interact with me, too, it makes my day <3 ➳ listen to: i need u by yaeow | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

Monday morning’s breakfast is awkward. Or at least, the very first minute of it.

The hands of your watch drift to 9 AM; you should’ve expected you wouldn’t be occupying the dining table alone. Your parents, sipping the last of their coffee, aren’t that much of a surprise after all.

You breathe a quiet breath of relief when their eyes dart towards your timid forms at the threshold, then back to the table. And a moment later, they’re pushing their chairs back across the marble floor before they clear the path to breakfast for the two of you.

Your father acknowledges you with a brief, polite nod on his way out, even flashing a similarly quick smile. Ingenuine, because his glance, fleeting when directed to you, is as disappointed as your Mom’s behind him.

Today, you understand. Somewhere in the depths of your recovering mind, you feel upset about shitfacing yourself so thoroughly, too.

You haven’t seen your mother in over two days. Jungkook’s post-showcase confessions brought you to Eun, and the next morning you barely scanned your room before you left for her place again.

Guess the momentary encounter in the hallway doesn’t quite count; you could hardly crack your eyes open. Combined with half the dozen naps you took in your locked room the very next day, you won’t exactly expect pride from her right now.

Until now, as she advances towards your body, you didn’t consider much of her side; you stayed focused on the other occurrences passing after sunset. Moments whose scent your sheets still carry.

As your mother comes to a stand, you prepare your vocal cords, breathing in to explain yourself until you realise that she isn’t looking at you at all. Her eyes are firmly glued to Jungkook’s face, devoid of enmity for once.

Instead, she flattens her dress, sighing through her red-tinted lips before she nods towards him and simply says, “Thank you.”

And that’s it. A little breathtaking, entirely new.

You’re dumbfounded when she leaves; Jungkook doesn’t manage a single word. You imagine that if you’re baffled, he’s probably rethinking her words to assure he didn’t hallucinate them.

But neither of you did. And the silence lingering for a couple more seconds proves the depth of reality; not that you’ll change your mind about leaving your place. But the hint of appreciation, shot directly at him is a pleasant first nevertheless.

Breakfast is patient but fast. The quiet atmosphere doesn’t derive from the night before or what your mother just left you with, but from the emotional fatigue slowly dropping off your shoulders.

Jungkook lets you feast in peace, a soft palm rubbing over the back of your hand every now and then to assure you’re okay. And you are. You’re getting used to these changes.

To this alternative to whatever you feared before. A chance to erase all words and start on a blank page; a white canvas, waiting for vibrant colours instead of monochrome gloom.

Yet, despite the tranquillity last night, still present in the air and in your aching limbs, you don’t understand the sincerity of all the confessions he uttered until you leave.

Because breathing in your car isn’t as suffocating as it was the last few weeks. Back when you’d navigate through the town alone, the passenger seat empty. Or when you plucked up the courage and drove to the showcase numbly.

Or when the pain pierced through your chest; when your drunk ass thought the world would  remain blue forever.

All of it is gone when you buckle up, shifting in your seat as you announce, “Okay. Let’s finally get you home.”

The engine roars for a moment, the car trembling, but you only register the knot in your throat when he says, “Feels so unfair of me. Having my girl drive me around so much.”

You don’t miss the endearment; neither the way your heart skips a beat.

Incapable of a proper reaction, you clear your throat and stutter, all at once and oddly in succession until you settle on a weak, “Why unfair?”

“Because. You do it a lot.”

You really do not. The night the museum closed and you dropped him off at your place was one of a few times; besides, he’s operated your vehicle more than enough before, too.

But you don’t contradict him, instead lightly suggest, “Well, you can drive if you want.”

You’re relieved when he joins your smile, dimples ever-so-sweet and genuine as he promises, “It’s fine. I’ll just stare at you.”

The shudder along your spine is delightful — relentless, he keeps your nerves alight. Perhaps he’s back to the self you knew pre-broken-hearts, playful and teasing, but the effect of his words curses through your veins hotter than ever.

“That’s creepy,” you still retort; you’ll gladly keep fighting this sweet, awkward battle against compliments for life, unaware how to handle them. “And it makes me nervous.”

“Sorry.”

Jungkook laughs, the back of two fingers reaching to your cheek to graze it featherlightly. Maybe he feels the heat beneath your skin, enhanced through his touch.

By now, you’ve spent a year with him — as a party fling, a class frenemy and a blue flower. But each second ticking away brings a new wave of soft, shy speechlessness. New honeymoon emotions.

The certainty of his reciprocated feelings, the fact that you’re finally on the same page, makes you rethink his tender confessions and touches differently. Makes you navigate the relationship differently.

His eyes drift back to the quiet, narrow street, surrounded by houses and blooming gardens. Probably as tired of the idyllic utopia as you, he doesn’t spare the suburban setting any more attention.

He only lets a flat hand rub against his thighs, nipping at his clothing as he says, “God, I can’t wait to get out of these damn joggers.”

Right. While not a main focus, you did find the special attire at breakfast today quite amusing.

“Did you even get to shower since picking me up?” you ask.

“Yeah. When you were napping again yesterday. Just gotta wash my hair later tonight.”

Hmm. You spent half your day knocked out; Jungkook could’ve circled the world and you wouldn’t have known.

“Oh. Good.”

The road proceeds straight, emptier near the suburbs. You allow a reckless glance before tackling busy streets; his eyes meet yours in curiosity, hair even messier than the night he met you in front of the bar.

When he left his apartment in joggers and an old shirt, mane untamed and no extra clothing at hand, he probably didn’t expect to abandon his place for so long. It gives you solace that he doesn’t regret it.

You drop the million memories of yesterday’s sunset burning into your eyes and everything that introduced it. The drunk words and the begging.

And then drop everything that followed afterwards; more pleading, more touching, more confessions that were in no way uttered through inebriate but not quite through sobriety either.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

You drop all the remembrances to focus on the moment; just to make sure that it’s real. So you ask, “Why didn’t you wash your hair there, too?”

For a moment, you see a flicker in his eyes, short-lived and quick; and his answer shoots out even more rapidly, “Just so.”

He emphasises his admission with a shrug of his shoulder, but it’s not nearly as convincing as he anticipates. Not buying a word, you push again, “C’mon.”

“I swear.”

“I’m curious now, though.”

There’s a momentary drop of silence before Jungkook hums, thinking as though he’s crafting a plausible excuse. Then, he says, “I didn’t wanna be away for too long.”

“…Why?”

“Why would I want to be?”

Ah…

Hmm. Well, maybe that’s enough for now.

Maybe he’s still not used to laying his secrets open. Maybe you need to practise patience, too, and stop digging like that.

You know that’s not all there is, but you certainly understand that it’s not a lie after all. Despite the pause and the obvious way his brain racked for a reason, his tone is genuine. You’ve experienced his insecurities before — that’s not what it was this time.

So you focus on the steering wheel instead, turning it left and away from the truck you drove way too close to. Your distraction might kill you — right there, next to you, clearing his throat and sitting up.

“Oh,” he says, segueing, and you let him, “wait, I forgot. Could we stop by at Yoongi’s for a sec? I wanted to see how he’s been doing.”

An abrupt change in topics, but not too abstract. As someone merely acquainted with the man, you’ve been collecting info on his state from Jimin; of course Jungkook would drop by personally.

You take a look at your digital watch; it’s barely ten and you don’t need to get away before 10:45. Taehyung agreed to meet with you to accompany you to your new potential flat again, so you should have time for a detour.

But.

“Is he…” you start, “gonna be okay with me being there?”

“Why?”

“I mean, just ‘cause… You know. We weren’t the closest for a while.”

Jungkook’s forehead wrinkles in new perplexion, muttering a few words. It takes a couple seconds — but eventually, he figures out that you’re not referring to Yoongi and yourself, and his expression changes immediately.

To subtle pain, you’d guess, like he doesn’t want to relive the memory. Like it never happened; like you weren’t two pieces of the same shattered heart this entire time.

But then he sighs, a hand wandering to your thigh. He kneads it softly, as a reminder to himself and to you that the past isn’t transpiring right now; that you’ve finally breathed and waded through it.

His optimism is encouraging when he says, “Nah. He thinks you’re cool.”

“I guess,” you mumble. You tap the steering wheel nervously, lips in a thin line before you add a hushed, “And if not, that’s alright, isn’t it? Like, hey, as long as you like me? Yeah, I shouldn’t overthink it…”

Jungkook releases air through his nose. You perceive a subtle shake of his head, as if to scold you, hear him say earnestly but gently, “Don’t worry about me. I don’t just like you.”

And whether casual or not, his words engulf your body immediately, like a soothing warm touch across your chest, yet effectively freezing your beating heart in place.

You can’t pinpoint whether the weight of his own words ever affects him as much as it affects you, or whether harbouring these emotions has become a familiar habit to him. At least to you, his tone is conversational and promising, perhaps even subliminally reassuring.

“At the very least,” he continues, “he’ll never disapprove of you the way Jimin disapproves of me.”

Which… snaps you back into reality for a second.

Your friend’s name is connected to more than mere dislike for the man next to you; currently, you think of dark nights and lamp-lit streets. After-midnight shenanigans and near tears in your own car, driven by the man who broke and mended your heart.

It reminds you of a blurry picture; two guys standing near an entrance, the older of them patting the other’s shoulder; smiling at him.

You do wonder if it was a fabrication of your mind.

“Forget Jimin,” you tell Jungkook, speech broken when you take another left and resumed when broader streets start. “Also. He did say he’s growing fond of you.”

“Because you like me. I still need to prove my worth to him.”

You tut.

“Kook, you don’t need to do anything. He’ll come around eventually. Just be you.”

“It’s fine, honestly.” He leans in, nudging your elbow, echoing you with a teasing undertone as he says, “As long as you like me.”

You love it when the initial nature of your relationship breaks through the mist of newfound passion; when you find the foundation of what you were, remembering how you landed here.

Which is why you bite back a laugh the moment you suppress a sassy, teasing remark, as if on reflex. One steer shy from pulling into a parking lot, you breathe out. If you halted here now, you’d kiss him, you’re sure.

But you merely laugh, squinting your eyes as you say, “You’re okay.”

Yoongi’s apartment, now inhabited by only one instead of two people, lies a couple miles from the campus. Jungkook guides you through the streets, jumping from one harmless topic to another — you reach his friend’s place a lot faster than you expected.

The building stands at a quiet place, surrounded by mid-high trees that give the grey colour of the complex a bit of liveliness. You walk to the entrance laughing about something stupid, a subtle nudge of his shoulder here, you pushing against his arm there.

But despite the familiarity and whatever occurred last weekend, it’s still odd jumping into the girlfriend role just yet. The word itself won’t even roll off your tongue very easily so far because you can’t believe a thing about this new reality.

So your hand dangles next to his awkwardly. Your thoughts keep drifting, registering half his sentence at times. What-if situations of gentle kisses and upcoming nights spent together tighten your chest.

Jungkook’s speech is clear and fluent, so you don’t know what your impact on him is exactly. At least he’s made sure you do have one on him — but you still wish you had a map through his mind to understand every thought he houses for you. Every emotion.

On the way up you feel a little dizzy; whether it’s due to the circular shape of the staircase or his proximity, you don’t know. You only realise that something’s still bothering you when you’re halfway up, coming to a halt with one foot on the next step.

“Okay, seriously,” you say, and he turns to you immediately, puzzled as he drops to the same level as you. Close to you.

“What?”

“You said you didn’t wanna leave,” you repeat, still stuck on the hair washing and staying longer thought, “why not?”

The answer could be simple. Could be rooted in emotions and the confessions you later uttered — but there must be something more. You saw it in the brief feeling flashing across his eyes, sitting in the passenger’s seat with silence sealing his lips.

Maybe something happened… because something always happens.

“You’re still thinking about that?” Jungkook questions, eyes wide in disbelief; lips pouting.

“No secrets, right?”

This seems to snap him out of all mysteries, last night’s conversation travelling to the forefront of his mind. But something about your curiosity amuses him. He wraps the fingers of his left hand around the staircase reeling, head dropping with a delicate smile.

His hair hides his eyes, but you know they’re sparkling; voice a mild drizzle when he starts, “It’s…” He draws in, inked digits touching your elbow before moving up your arm absentmindedly. “Don’t worry so much. It’s nothing harmful at all.”

You wait. Let his thumb graze your neck, up to your chin.

He sighs, almost exasperated in a way. “You speak in your sleep, you know?”

Wait. What?

You blink, thoughts disoriented. The staircase is dimly lit, but you recognise the slight upward curve of his lips; more empathetic than teasing.

So you still do?

“Huh?” you make.

“I think you dreamed of waking up a couple times? You hadn’t, though, and it’d always be something about being alone again.”

Again.

The word reverberates through your mind, dragging and stretching. Didn’t you once read that a broken heart is akin to serious rehab, accompanied by withdrawal symptoms and slowly healing scars?

You guess your heart was hurting more than you already knew.

“Okay,” you say, nodding when he does, thumb lifting your head when you drop it. You swallow thickly. “What did I say exactly?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know anymore. Something about me leaving. And I was scared of waking you up while gone ‘cause you’d actually think I’d left.”

You hum. Allow yourself a moment to process the info; you seek out fragments of your dreams, but you draw a blank. You feel guilty about his concerns, yet relieved. Vulnerable. And somewhat reassured.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.

Your voice is barely above a whisper — less because of the conversation. More because of the touch on your cheek. It’s soft against your skin, and you shiver. The flutter in your chest is only just bearable.

That’s the thing about falling in love. It’s sweet — so much sometimes that it twists your guts. You’re in so deep, you could hurl.

“Nah. You don’t need to worry about this anymore, okay?” he murmurs.

His eyes dig into yours. Dark and shiny through his healthy tresses, livelier than ever. Sincere. 

You, on the other hand, must look unconvinced without intending to, because his mouth aligns with yours soon after.

He exhales, tilting his head, and says, “Look,” leans in, leaves a featherlight kiss against your cheek, right next to his thumb, “I mean it.”

Guess being with him comes with occasional mental blackouts. And regular arrhythmia. The palpitations behind your ribs are almost ridiculous; instead of gripping your own chest, you grasp his shirt immediately.

Lightly, as if you could collapse without this anchor.

He lets you pull him closer just a little, whispering as if someone could hear, “What’s wrong?”

Vulnerability hidden, you blink again, and joke, “Nothing. Just thought you were gonna kiss me.”

Jungkook smiles. His nose brushes against yours, toying a bit, and his bunny teeth make him look somewhat younger when he voices, “You want me to kiss you?”

“I always do.”

Your grin is playful, but your heart is pounding in your chest. Who would’ve thought the journey from a car to an apartment could be so long, so thrilling?

His snicker is gentle and canorous, knees careful against yours. Your heartbeat accelerates some more, rose-tinted lips opting towards their goal. You part your mouth, ready with a deep breath.

But the two of you are always subject to disturbances — so you’re disappointed but not surprised when you hear rushed steps on top of the staircase, strolling down and crossing your path just when Jungkook backs away.

The stranger passes by you with initial surprise in his eyes, not expecting you, but soon gets over it and drops his gaze again. And once he’s gone, Jungkook winks, a hand on your back pushing you forward gently.

“Later,” he says.

You know as you ascend the stairs.

Know that with the ease with which you handle your feelings for each other, you’ll strive towards a future where you won’t be haunted by dreams of being alone. Where you won’t fear his departure, and where his kisses won’t be interrupted by this cruel world.

The building reminds you of when you’d frequent the dorm you used to know. The walls and hallways are similarly built, narrow and somewhat cheap. They look like most buildings from the inside do, honestly, but you like the pleasant illusion the nostalgia brings.

Even the bathrooms are located near the end of the hallways; Jungkook once told you that Tae and Yoongi have their own kitchen, unlike him back when he still housed his dorm. But there’s a communal bathroom here, too; allegedly one reason why Tae moved out.

The only thing that separates this place from Jungkook’s old dorm is the subtle difference in scent. Not pure testosterone.

You smile.

The mood doesn’t match with what you felt back in June at all.

Back when you stomped to Jungkook’s dorm, furious about yet another insignificant issue, you didn’t think your fingers would ever be brushing his like they are now. Or when you escaped the rain and entered the building’s warmth, your umbrella leaving behind a trail of raindrops.

Your relationships, your priorities, your emotions. Your universe changed faster than the seasons.

As you walk past a random door, Jungkook cranes his neck, staring as if he could x-ray-glare a hole into it and glance at what lays behind it. Perhaps he’s thinking back, too.

You don’t know about all the things he experienced throughout the years there. Part of your heart stings because you remember you weren’t the only girl who ever frequented his place.

But you still left an impression — if the current status of your relationship isn’t proof of it, then the sudden touch along the back of your hand certainly is. A thumb following a vein blindly, opting to grasp your palm into his, yet retracting when you finally come to a stand.

The digit caressing your skin lifts to the door, and his knuckles knock three times, rhythmically. Your chest constricts as you jump back into the moment, probably half as nervous as you’d be if you met Jungkook’s parents.

A moment stretches as you wait for Yoongi to open, allowing yourself just another spiralling thought as you imagine actually daring a meeting with Jungkook’s parents. It’s too early to think about it, isn’t it?

It’s just.

Since yesterday, you’ve created a dozen different scenarios in your head, ranging from a civil, calm conversation with his father to a full snap. Half of you wants to know his genuine thoughts on his son’s sorrows; the other half wants to rage and then bolt away.

Ugh.

When the door swings open, your hand flashes to Jungkook’s. A startled instinct, even though nothing about the action was surprising or scary. But he doesn’t mind — of course he doesn’t.

His eyes rush to yours for a second, warm and somewhat thrilled, his smile permanent. And then he looks back at his friend, quietly squeezing your palm, the shy smile soft as he greets, “You’re walking without clutches, huh?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond right away. He looks from Jungkook to you and back. His gaze isn’t very telling, but you find amusement in it. If you weren’t so ridiculously and inexplicably nervous about his upcoming statement, you’d laugh.

Intently, he grants a peek at your entwined hands, and when he looks at the two of you again, he starts…

Smiling.

Gummies all out, a tiny laugh thrown in between before he says, “Ohoho. You’re here, too?”

The smile turns into a sly grin, a hand clutching the frame of the door. You guess he’s not as balanced after all. Possibly just abandoned his clutches for the short way from the couch to the door.

“I can totally go,” you tell him, the teasing tone missing; soft and small instead.

“Why in the world would you?” Yoongi steps aside carefully, nodding the two of you inside. You oblige, hearing his voice behind you jest, “Now, would you look at that. Did I do that?”

Jungkook automatically drops on the chair at the tiny dining table, like he’s arrived home, and you follow; make yourself comfortable on the seat next to him. There are three chairs, as though carefully chosen for the pair of friends who used to live together and a guest.

Next to you, Jungkook huffs, leaning back as he watches his friend plop onto the chair in front of him, and asks, “How would you’ve done that?”

“Well, you guys gathered at the hospital because of me.”

Right. Good point.

If he just knew how that night played out. Actually, you think he just might, yet not quite aware of its severity.

“Not because of you,” Jungkook promises, “I just charmed her again.”

You laugh. So does Yoongi.

He isn’t irritated or taken aback by the younger’s boldness; in truth, he seems entertained. Arms crossed, eyes small and grin wide. He half mocks, “The young ones are charming for sure these days.”

“Spoken like a true Grandpa,” Jungkook remarks. You press your lips into a thin line, but with a faint smile. You only listen; you’re in the territory of two friends who spend their time roasting each other. You’re not on that level yet, so you observe. “But I had to.”

“You had to, huh?” you joke. Okay, observation broken. Your body tilts towards him. “You didn’t need any of your charm for… this. But still good to know.”

Because you would’ve been putty in his hands, no matter what — charm or not.

"Can confirm," Yoongi agrees, nodding towards his friend, "that he was also a proper mess the last couple weeks. Very out of character."

Your eyes roll to the side to catch a glimpse of him, but the moment you detect the rosy dust on Jungkook's cheeks, you avert your gaze immediately.

Admittedly, the guilt in the middle of your chest is undeniable. But there's comfort in knowing you were never the only half who was deeply, perpetually falling.

Yoongi scratches his temple, doesn't meet your eyes; possibly shy when it comes to conversations like these. But he sounds warm and gentle when he says, "I'm really glad you guys are back."

You’re similarly timid, feeling strange. As if someone’s congratulating you on a fresh marriage. Or maybe that’s just the emotion you want, need to feel.

You say, “Thanks.” And then, ever-so-terrible with compliments, add a little, “Let’s say it was you. Double thank you to the man of the hour.”

Yoongi pulls a grimace hitherto unseen; it doesn’t faze Jungkook, but the Joker-esque grin and wide-eyed nod have you bursting into laughter. His friends are pleasant, you think.

If there was a way to lure Jimin in and convince him of this group’s collective appeal, you wouldn’t hesitate. There’s only a limited time you want him to play the petty, protective friend.

“So, how have you been?” Jungkook eventually asks.

Yoongi rubs the corner of his eye, stretching his injured leg under the table, “Never better. The bank is surviving without me. Besides, I haven’t gotten around to making some music in a while.”

“Tae did tell me you were enjoying your days off.”

Jungkook reacts with a tiny chuckle, but your eyes widen. You let him finish his sentence, and then spit, “Wait, wait. You make music?”

“Oh, I mean… I’m not any good,” he explains, wiggling a hand, a little startled as if he forgot you didn’t know yet. “I just. Make a few beats every now and then and write my own bars and stuff.”

“Wait, rap?” You stare between the boys, to and fro, only a little offended that you didn’t know you had a brooding future musician in your midst. “Can I hea—”

“No.” The answer is immediate. You pout. “Before you ask, I am way too much of a coward.”

“He’s amazing,” Jungkook intrudes.

And you whine, “Unfair, Yoongi.”

He imitates your expression, leaning back, copying your stance, and answers in the same childlike tone, “Warm up to me first! I’ll show it to you one day.”

“One day I’m gon’st hear it,” you declare, overly dramatic with your chin up, “you have my taste in music, you know? I know I’ll like it.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I can try.”

Yoongi blows a raspberry. You’re not sure what you expected; maybe subtle hostility. But the sense of casual camaraderie is refreshing; lounging comfortably in his living room was a picture far from your mind until now, and you think he enjoys the unforeseen gathering, too.

Because after a moment of stillness, a faint smile touches his lips, his voice back to normal and deep as he remarks, “It’s nice that you guys came. I get bored here a lot.”

Right. You kept wondering.

You don’t dive into the matter immediately, instead drenching your voice in a teasing lilt, “Even though Jimin visits you?”

“Shut up.” Mock exasperation rolls his eyes as Jungkook appreciates your joke, one foot pressing against yours under the table. “No. It’s just been lonely since Tae moved out. It’s a two people thing with two bedrooms.”

He shrugs his shoulders, attention fully on you. Jungkook either doesn’t have much to say or doesn’t want to interrupt. Only listens.

“Living here alone feels like I’m wasting space and money,” Yoongi finishes.

Curiosity piqued, you probe, “What did Tae say when he left?”

“He offered to let me move in with him. But that’d be pointless.”

“Why so?”

“He’s awesome for offering, but I think he wanted his own place, you know? Why would I intrude then? But I did tell him I’d look for another place.”

“Have you been?” you ask. You still remember how happy Taehyung looked last time you met him alone.

How he spoke so highly of a life on his own, gladly interrupted by the occasional visits Eun granted him. Yoongi, you think, would probably benefit from acquiring his own place, too — one that doesn’t remind him that someone left him behind, inhabiting a vacant space thought for two.

“Every now and then,” Yoongi admits. “Will think about it some more once my leg’s healed.”

You nod in understanding, a thoughtful hum escaping your lips. Yoongi soon leans forward, naked arms on top of the table, and delves into a discussion about the rising costs of rent.

He outlines the challenges of finding the right place in the bustling city, and explains his worries about the empty space in a too-large apartment. And you listen intently.

But as minutes pass, you can’t help but notice the contemplative silence Jungkook has fallen into.

It’s always the same with him — thoughts you can’t read, questions you need to postpone.

Because you do glance over at him, observe the distracted furrow of his brow, the distant look in his eyes. You understand he’s once again lost in unknown thoughts, and you sense how jumbled his mind must be.

But you still decide to hold off for the moment, out of respect for the ongoing conversation. You don’t focus on addressing his apparent preoccupation until it keeps going until later, way after you’ve bid Yoongi goodbye.

“Why do you seem so reserved?” you ask in the car, his home your new destination.

It must be around quarter past ten; you should still be able to meet Tae within half an hour. Yet, despite the brooding rush, you can’t help but wanna drag out the ride, finish this conversation.

“Hm?” he voices.

Did he not hear you? Maybe.

You sigh, seeking an available parking spot. You’ve already turned into his street, way past the park, halting close to his entrance. The engine dies, sudden silence inside the vehicle.

“Okay,” you turn towards him, forearm against the wheel. “You’re a lot less enthusiastic now. What’s up?”

He looks distracted. Drags his teeth over his full, pink lower lip hard enough for you to repeat, “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Uh.” Cue big boba eyes flitting to you. “I was just. Thinking about something.”

“Wanna share?”

“Yeah. Yeah, uhm. I swear I’m not trying to be mysterious, just. Not sure how to phrase it.”

He’s easing himself into this whole thing. The entire opening up act and being fearless with his feelings. So you don’t push him, but encourage, “Try. If not now, then maybe later, though?”

“No, no. Now is fine.” He frees his eyes off the dark bangs when he shakes his head a little, preparing to voice his hidden thoughts. Then, he breathes, “Yeah, so…”

One more second.

And.

“What if you dropped your plans of moving into that apartment?”

Oh. What?

Does he mean what you think he means…

There are only two options, right? And you choose to go with the one that would embarrass you less if it turned out wrong.

“Should I… do you think I should stay with my family?” you ask, your voice cautious.

But when his hands shoot up, immediately denying your assumption with round eyes, you breathe out through your nose. Relieved when he clarifies, “No, not at all. I mean, it’s up to you, but that’s not what I meant.”

So then…

“So you’re saying—”

He interrupts, rushing before he can back down, “Move in with me. And Yoongi could take the apartment you were considering.”

Fuck. 

You didn’t expect your heart to jump up to your throat like that. It’s a day full of brief heart failures. You barely know how to react anymore.

You stare. Then stare a bit more. And eventually, you simply ask, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He gulps, averting your gaze all of a sudden before it lands back on yours. You chuckle quietly, unprompted, and it boosts his confidence. “You stayed at mine for days and it worked. It could… you know— keep working.”

The suggestion lingers like a fresh breeze, grazing your cheeks and twirling around you like a soothing force. He beams — though subtle, he seems to interpret the simultaneous rise of your eyebrows and your lips immediately.

Still, he inquires, “I don’t know… too soon?”

Technically yes. But then again, no. Because he’s right — you’ve already experienced a piece of heaven, tasted the bliss of domesticity with Jeon Jungkook.

“You really are serious about this, yeah?”

“Only if you want me to be,” he counters, less tense than before, but a hand rubbing in nervous circles over his knee, “if not, then I was absolutely joking.”

An awkward, little chortle fills the small space of the car; you shake your head, teeth out and smile bright. There’s sweetness in knowing that his affection is real. That the thought of shared future pains, joys and days — that it’s all actually become so unbelievably real.

The car is cool in the shadow, but you feel a strange heat coursing through your body. At the end of the street, you see the sunlight brighten the moment he laughs. Fitting.

The crinkly eye smile softens when he reaches for your hand, pulling it off the wheel and wrapping it in his. There’s an automatic reaction in your chest, a constant racing when he says, “I mean it, though.”

Brief pause. He looks down to your fingers.

“I think I got used to having you there. And then, at Yoongi’s I had this… I don’t know, overwhelming urge to tell you. That,” his teeth worry his lip, releasing it softly, “I want you next to me for as long as possible.”

You understand.

He means every minute that society and norms don’t force you out of the house. At nights and in the mornings, on off days and holidays. To fall asleep next to his presence, to wake up on the same mattress, too.

And the longing is undeniable; you know that it is. But you’re already swamped with decisions as it is — could you call off the apartment right here, right now? Rethink all you discussed with the landlord, Taehyung or yourself?

Life decisions are harder than that, and despite all the wants infiltrating your body, you can’t dive into this without a couple more following thoughts.

You keep gazing into his smouldering eyes, more intense when he looks up. Let their effect send a thrill down your spin, a surge of yearning through your veins. 

And then, you acknowledge the need for prudence. You savour the moment, let the anticipation built, and flash a sultry smile to ensure that, yes, if not now, then one damn day, I’ll be yours entirely.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything to work more than this,” you admit, “but I need to—”

You halt. Words come hard to you these days; and the two of you are sensitive. It’s not easy to reunite after weeks of overthinking and distance; and you don’t want to provide more reasons to overthink.

But you forget that as sensitive as Jungkook is, he’s just as understanding and gentle, too.

Because he says, “You need to think. And I know you can’t just pack your things and move over, I just— I wanted it out there.”

“I know. I know.”

“And I,” he continues, “I actually thought you were gonna say no right away since you’re getting out of your childhood home just now, so naturally, you would wanna be alone for a while and—”

You lean forward, pulling your hands out of his grip. His eyes shoot down, baffled and confused, but you don’t give him a second to think or speak. In a moment’s notice, his cheeks are squished between your palms, his bunny face now akin to a duck.

“I don’t want to be alone. I’ve been alone all my life,” you tell him; Jungkook eyebrows furrow in empathy and worry, but you smile, “I don’t wanna be anymore.”

His expression and voice are dorky when he speaks, first words incomprehensible. You let go, watching the red splotches on his cheek, and he repeats, “Is that a yes?”

“It’s… I don’t know. A to be continued.”

“I’ll live with that.”

You don’t know if it’s the electrifying prospect of a life together or the confidence he follows his statement up with, but the insanity burns wild in your head. Untamed and dizzying.

“And I’ll wait for however long.”

“I didn’t even ask, I’m sorry… but are you starting work later today?”

You stand in the middle of Taehyung’s living room, a hand over your eyes to protect them from the bright sunlight. He’s busy piling the saucers and the cups, and you wait as he drags a vocal in thought.

“No, no. I’m off today.” He stands, and you automatically walk the short distance to the kitchen, lingering at the door frame. “Need the afternoon for an appointment at the doc. So yeah.”

“Oh. Everything okay?”

He doesn’t speak yet, dishes in the wash basin too loud. They clink and rattle; the moment you’ll move to an apartment by yourself, you’ll have to wash them yourself, too.

Maybe you can make your place as aesthetically pleasing and beige as Taehyung did. You don’t know — you couldn’t imagine much today nor discuss further details about the contract and rent and general house rules.

The landlord bailed on you last second. And Taehyung sacrificed over an hour that he could’ve spent keeping Eun company between her morning lessons.

You apologised the second you entered his apartment instead, thankful for the invitation to tea, yet harbouring guilt for wasting his time. But Taehyung proved incredibly kind, waving off your concerns immediately.

He asked, playfully offended, “So you’re saying a tea party with me is a waste of time?” And then he laughed, immediately shaking his head, “Nah. It’s fine. Am glad someone finally prefers tea over coffee, too.”

So now you’re here.

“Yeah, just a check up,” Taehyung answers, “vamps drew my blood and will tell me today if it’s good or not.”

“Interesting way to refer to doctors,” you admit, backing away when he leads you to the exit. You need to be at work in forty minutes tops. “Good then.”

He hands you your blazer, silent for a moment before he says, “Talking about feeling unwell.” You look up, arm halfway through the blazer’s sleeve. “What were you doing getting shitfaced like that?”

“Uhm…”

Word travels fast. Your cheeks heat up, fingers curling into fists. You smack your lips, letting out a tiny laugh, and ask, “Eun told you, huh?”

“Mhm. Scolded her for taking you to the bar and leaving you alone.”

You sigh.

You should’ve guessed that she’d tattle. And of course you might appear like the helpless, heartbroken girl, seeking comfort in alcohol, dark clubs and blue neon lights. It’s a little embarrassing, actually.

“Kook was there, though,” you defend.

“I know. I called when he was still at your place.”

Huh? What else did he do when you were asleep? Painted a Louvre-ripe masterpiece, probably.

Taehyung decodes the dozen questions in your stare, tumbling until his back leans against the wall. He explains, “We just talked for a sec. He sounded worried, so I didn’t prod too much. Just don’t do these things anymore, okay?”

Huh…

You can imagine it well. Partly because you remember the way he looked at you that night: distressed beyond belief, giving you soft orders, insisting on help everywhere — the car, the shower, the bed.

But also because you know him.

And you don’t think you needed to see him in those very moments to know he must’ve brushed through his silky hair. Must’ve looked through your room, gaze stopping over your sleeping figure.

Voice strained on the phone, yawning, shaking his head because he must have been a little mad at you, but comforted that you were resting, too.

You remember the tone of his voice, soft as a piano tune but saddened nonetheless.

”What did you drink? You’re… in such a bad state.”

You shake the words off. God, he was there for you more than you’ll ever know.

You say, “That’s nice, though, Tae… I didn’t think you’d ever get so worried about me.”

“Hey. You’re still my friend,” he promises.

He’s possibly been the only person throughout this entire ordeal to not be pissed at you or annoyed by you. You never doubted that he still liked you.

“I might not know you inside out like Eun or Jungkook do, but you’re part of this group. So naturally, you’re important, too.”

You push your hands into the pockets of the blazer, gripping the car keys inside. Bashfully, you smile. His sincerity pumps warmth through you; it’s crazy how good belonging somewhere, to someone, can actually feel.

It’s refreshing. New. 

“Wow,” you murmur, shuffling your feet, “thank you.”

“You’re glowing, you know. That’s nice.”

“Am I?”

He nods. “I can’t wait to see him glow either. A couple weeks were a couple too long.”

Those couple weeks felt like someone ripped out the hands of time, keeping them from moving. Your brain aged faster in that time, deep in a bottomless abyss. You don’t want to experience it again.

And you don’t want to imagine Jungkook in the same pit again. Looking for you, but bumping against walls, painted with his past that made him stumble back instead of pulling him forwards.

Your eyes trail down the hallway, looking at the small paintings and decorations on the wall. You take in the furniture, inhale the pleasant colours. Imagine his living room in its entirety, the sunlight seeping through the windows. Curtains pushed aside.

Your apartment could be like this, too.

But.

“Tae,” you begin. You wrap your fingers around your rattling car key; lick your lips. “Do you think I’d like it here?”

“Hmmm,” he voices, gazing down as if he could look past the parquet floor and to where your potential apartment stands nearly empty. “Yeah. I mean, I like to think so, because I’m very happy here.”

He stops abruptly, the tone of the last syllable not matching a sentence’s end. You wait as he smiles a little, creating a thought, “But you could be happy somewhere else, too. Happier even.”

His words hang in the air, a sense of both possibility and uncertainty tangible. You were wanting to venture into this new chapter of your life with hope, but also with trepidation.

Suburban areas are nice, but you opted for the heart of the city — the vibrant tapestry of dreams and opportunities. You didn’t expect the journey to be fraught with sudden doubts.

The best thing, however, is that doubts and dilemmas never seemed this… tempting.

You tell him, “There’s always a place that makes people happier, for everyone.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice tinged with wisdom. “Only, some people already know of it, and some keep searching for it.”

“And I am—”

You pause, anticipating for him to finish the sentence; he responds, “You gotta know.” There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, support and acknowledgment hiding right behind — matching his words, “I’d be bummed if you didn’t become my neighbour, but. Also just happy you guys are happy.”

Too kind for this world.

In your endearment, you laugh, suddenly stepping forward for a brief, thankful hug. A silent gesture of gratitude for his friendship, no matter how shallow or new.

The people you surround yourself with offer endless reassurance, and you’re lacking the words to express your appreciation.

“Thank you, Tae. Eun’s right when she praises your constant respect for other people, you know?”

Taehyung, maybe a little perplexed, brings a hand to your back, patting gently as he states, “No worries. The worst is over.”

You hope so. God, you genuinely hope so.

You pull back, tucking your hair behind your ear and bid him goodbye with one last nod. Taehyung closes the door behind you with a humorous thumbs up, and you grin before it’s silent in the hallway again.

There’s a tiny window outside, overlooking the street down there and the cars flitting by. The area isn’t as peaceful as Jungkook’s — more lively and noisy. You can see the city’s river if you look far enough.

And as you step closer to the glass, you envision your own apartment again. You imagine the soft glow of the lamp before you go to sleep. The comfortable couch you want to plant in the back of the living room, curling up with work or your laptop or a cup of hot chocolate.

You picture the view of the city as you step to your open window, glancing out as the steam of your beverage swirls in the evening air. Contemplating the world outside.

But then you start rethinking Jungkook’s words, too. The idea of belonging and happiness, of domesticity and what could be.

And at last, you visualise what it’d be like if you didn’t see any of this — the lively street, the river in the distance. Wonder how you’d feel if the horizon looked different.

If you stared out and saw a different canvas instead.

The changes in your life are drastic in some way, but Jungkook always stays the same.

Your house lies quiet most of the time; as days pass, you frequent your room, then drop by in the living room, greeting the staff, grabbing dinner and retracting back to your beloved bed.

Jungkook’s apartment, baby-sized compared to your place, allows a much livelier atmosphere. Maybe because you don’t need to yell for him to hear you from another room. Or maybe because it’s just the two of you.

Perhaps even because you find solace in the couch, in the smaller smart TV in front of it, the glass table, the carpet, the homely furniture in general. The scent reminds you of wood, but you connect it with him, too.

It’s different from the room you grew up in. Different from the luxurious chimney and marble you’ve seen all your life.  And you must admit that you enjoy it a lot more, too.

One of the few reasons why your mood changes from exhausted to merry the moment you knock at his door on Thursday. He was expecting you, because when he opens, he beckons you inside immediately, pulling you in and planting a generous kiss on your cheek.

A smooching sound accompanies it, his foot closing the door as he suggests, “Dinner first or TV?”

“Shoes.” You laugh. You slip out of your thin jacket before tackling your snickers quickly, your clothes suddenly itchy and uncomfortable. “Shoes first, and then shower? Can I?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It’s not the first time that you’d be doing it. But there’s still something new and pure about this new chapter of your life; one that comes with polite questions and reinventing reality, apparently.

Redrafting life as you knew it and striving towards something better.

“I knew it, actually,” he says, forefinger wiggling, “I put a fresh towel on the washing machine. Also had a handful of your shirts here, so there’s one of those on the towel, too. And my joggers… Sorry, you left none of those, uhm—”

He’s started walking ahead, scratching behind his ear, but when he notices you not following, he looks over his shoulder. Blinks at you, staring into his living room and back, innocent voice unsure, “Come?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just— you didn’t have t—”

“I know,” he interrupts, breathing a sigh in faux frustration, “I know I never have to. But I figured you’d wanna shower.”

“…Thank you, Kook.”

You wish you could say more; express your gratitude the way you want to. At least your body is jubilating, craving the hot steam of the shower. Starving further for some peace when you step into the bathroom and detect the neatly placed clothing.

Jungkook halts at the door, gripping its frame, a little shy as if you didn’t breathe each other in for the last couple of weeks and months. He’s looking at you, waiting for something, and when you raise an eyebrow in curiosity, he snaps out of whatever daydream he was in.

“Oh. Right,” he mumbles, cheeks flushed, “sorry. I’ll leave. Can heat up the food. Or, or do you wanna order in?”

“Anything’s fine.” He nods. Opts to walk away, big hand flattening his hair at the back. It takes a moment for your heart to riot as you watch him leave, immediately babbling, “Actually. I was—”

Returning within a moment, he looks alarmed. Less so when you point a thumb to the shower and suggest, “Do you wanna join?”

“You in the shower?”

No, doofus. Join to watch the washing machine unsoil your sweaty clothes.

You clear your throat. “Yeah?”

“I uhm… Is that okay?”

Goddamn. Redrafting life as you knew it, you said.

You just didn’t expect the two of you to still tip-toe around each other. Seems you still have a lot of adjusting to do.

You try to break the ice.

“Acting like I’ve never seen you naked.”

“No, I know,” he responds, “I was just thinking that you…”

You can’t quite decrypt what he’s trying to say, but you do perceive the flash of concern in his eyes. It’s a tiny glimpse, barely there; but you see it. And you think about it.

Try to understand, let moments pass — until you’ve grasped his thinking.

The night he helped you clean up was the last time you stood under a showerhead together; maybe he thinks you’re still connecting it to the night’s trauma or borderline dangerous intoxication. And perhaps you’re wrong.

But you still take a breath, and then segue, “Already took a shower, didn’t you?”

You know he did. He’s addicted to cleanliness, sensitive to scents; he hoards diffusers, skin care products and new underwear like a treasure. And showering is always the first thing he goes for, a beeline to the bathroom after work out sessions and intense summer days.

You follow up with, “It’s okay, if you did. I’ll just go alone and hurry to dinner, then?”

“No, no… No, it’s fine.” He starts his sentence fast, but slows down halfway through, awkwardly. “Of course I can join. What’s some extra refreshment, right?”

“That’s the reason, huh?” you mock, laughing when he shrugs his shoulder. “Keep acting like you’re not the biggest simp around.”

Your confidence boosts his own, too. The signature smile is soft, lips curved gorgeously, but the subtone of his words is teasing, and even a little cocky.

“Of course. I know, I know.”

“Come then.”

You offer a stretched hand, curling your fingers in and outwards, and he places his warm palm into it like a key to a lock. Albeit tense and nervous, your body feels good next to his. The telltale awkward signs of a new relationship don’t deter you from indulging in its sweetness.

So you’re not surprised at how quickly you undress, throwing each other’s clothes at the back of the washing machine and planting kisses whenever one of you bares their shoulder. Eyeing each other from bottom to top.

You think you ogle for a moment too long, though — and how could you not with the freaking silver chain dangling from his neck?

An exciting evening lies ahead, you can already tell.

It’s fresher now outside, and all of Jungkook’s windows are open. Despite the cosiness of the bathroom, you rush under the hot shower stream.

Only, it’s not as boiling as you’d like it to be. Jungkook starts and finishes his showers ice cold, so you screech when you meet water from the Antarctic. You jump on your spot, arms around your torso.

And when you allow yourself one single glance at him amidst the breathlessness, you notice that the asshole is doing it on purpose. Same old. Rouses core memories.

Jungkook wipes over your hair and your face, drenching them thoroughly. You only realise he’s smudged your mascara when he starts rubbing underneath your eyes gently, managing to get some of it off.

“Fuck,” you curse, “I forgot about that. Should I take it off first?”

The intention is to slip out, use one of his cleansing skin products and get the mess out of your face before stepping back to him. But you don’t make it far anyway; he yanks you back before your foot can even touch the mat.

And then, the moment passes in a blur.

Tense body back against his, he tugs you close. Holds both your wrists in front of your breasts, leaning in without a warning, and then — connects his dripping lips with yours.

If there was any space to gasp, you would. Instead, your fingers instantly dig into your hand, sharp nails scarring the skin. You move your fists, trying to touch him, but he holds you in place firmly.

That is, until his digits relax, trailing up your shoulder to your neck, jaw and then to your cheeks. Face in your grip, you let him control the pace. You find an anchor in his bicep, holding on; kissing isn’t enough.

You wish he could eat you up. Wish the tongue finally touching yours, swirling around it, was everywhere on your skin at once.

You feel a slight twitch underneath, right against your body; ready to devour, hopefully soon to explode. But Jungkook gasps for air when his lungs give out, allowing a break, backing away with your face still between his hands.

And then, he utters something surprising — something you didn’t expect in the heat of the moment at all.

“I was meaning to tell you something.”

“…Oh?”

“I’m uh. I’ve been meaning to tell you for days. I just never quite got around to it and we were so busy and tired all the time and—”

“What is it?” you break in, heart pounding at an unnatural speed. “I’m here now, so…?”

For a second, you expect this to take a whole different turn.

The database in your brain empties the moment you scour it for an answer, preparing yourself for molten knees and dissolving hearts. Or maybe, it’s already clarifying to liquid, jumping out of your chest and flowing down the drain along with the water.

But he doesn’t say what you anticipate. Though, what he does admit has your nerves glowing neon white anyway.

“So— the first night of my showcase. On my birthday?” he starts. You feel the muscles of your face change, and he sees it, immediately assuring, “No, no. Don’t worry. I was just gonna say that a guy came to me by the end of it? And—” 

He lets all of it sound like an unsure question. But you think you know where it’s going — you hold your breath under the already suffocating water.

“And?” you prod.

“And turned out Namjoon invited him, and he’s kiiiinda a big shot in the art business? Like, he’s a gallery collector, he said. He’d invest in my art and acquire it and have it showcased in bigger museums for more recogni— I know!”

Your mouth and eyes opened halfway through his quick explanation, fingers back in fists, pressing against his solid chest and then moving up to hook in his silver chain. You’re restless in the congested space, suppressing the high pitched sounds.

He puts his hands on your hips, snickering in joy as he says, “Be careful before you slip.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Thankfully I’m not, angel,” he shakes his head, bangs sticking to his forehead, “not this time, at least.”

You raise a hand to his pec, tapping against it, “Wait. So just so I understood correctly — they’re gonna put up your stuff there for an even bigger audience to see, yeah?”

“I mean, the gallery is definitely far bigger than the exhibition I participated in.”

“Oh my god, Jungkook, the exhibition already had a shit ton of visitors!”

He nods, proving a point.

You feel an electric current in your blood. Pride, that’s what it’s called, too. You sling your arms around his neck recklessly, nearly falling, but you can’t be bothered as you exclaim, “This is so— I don’t even know how to react, Kook!”

And who could convince a big-shot art connoisseur so quickly after graduation anyway? Jungkook’s god given talents are never praised for nothing — you knew it. Fucking knew it.

Won’t make it anywhere, your ass.

“That’s so fucking awesome.” You stare, out of breath all of a sudden. God, if there was a way to express your delight. “When is it happening? Are you selling the one you showcased?”

“I don’t know yet. And no. That’s too… personal to me.” You blink, nodding. Still overwhelmed with how his pieces made you feel — of course they’d hit even harder for the artist himself. “He wants something in a similar style, though. I’ll make something new for him.”

“What’s it gonna be?”

It’s a simple question. You swear it’s nothing too deep.

But Jungkook’s gaze changes. An amused, delighted expression replaces a neutral one, head tilting to the side just a little. His lips, already slightly swollen from the kiss, move up, eyes kind and sugary.

If you only knew how your small details affect him, too. How you looking at him like this, expectant eyes split wide, innocent and gentle, shoots an arrow to his heart.

You just don’t know.

He brushes the hair sticking to your cheek back and tells you, “You’ll see. I’ve been working on it these days, but. Will show it to you when it’s done.”

You can’t even be mad. If it was up to you, you’d probably wait for the big day, too — can’t spoil the surprise, need to cry tears of pride and joy in public.

So all you say, deep from the heart, is, “You’re the fucking coolest person I know.”

“Nah—”

“The coolest.”

“Funny,” he retorts, as bad at compliments as you; throws them back like a boomerang, “thought the same when I met you at the party last year.”

“…Gross.” That’s what you say. But you still shake your head; overwhelmed, smile plastered to your face and cheeks hurting. “God, Kook.”

And that’s all.

You keep holding his stare, finally too tired of the distance to endure any longer — and then lean in. You stop a couple inches away, watch his head angle more, mouth steering towards yours. The smile is mutual, fingers seeking a spot to settle on on each other’s bodies.

Your heart monitor would be wilding right now — the effect of your lips meeting clear as day behind your ribs. And this time, you don’t stop.

The push against his chest is immediate, his feet slowly tumbling backwards. His tongue burns hot against yours, your lower lip fitting perfectly in the gap between his lips. There’s a sharp hiss when his back finally touches the tiles, mouth open but not leaving yours.

Teeth soon clash, and you opt for more of his taste, well aware that you just cannot kiss more than you already are. His hands move up and down, never settling, both your lips harsh and impatient. Your tongues keep moving in patterns, thirst never quenched.

You break the kiss solely for oxygen purposes, but he uses the moment to let his palm wander from your face to your hair, grabbing a patch. One hand pushes against the small of your back, though soon dropping to your ass, fingers between your ass cheeks, teasing the clenching hole.

Fuck.

The moan isn’t intended, but very welcome — you love the sound of it as much as he does, followed by his own. An automatic reaction. His hips indulge in the tiniest movements, length jerking against your body; no more than an inch of his fingertip pushing into your ass.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you breathe, eyebrows furrowing, mewling against the corner of his lips. “More, now, please.”

It’s an attempt. Of course he won’t act that fast — you know him well enough. He’s been a soft gentleman often enough; but after holding back the past few days, missing it for weeks, you know it won't be easy on him either.

One of you will be on the brink of tears soon; until now, it’s usually been you.

You take a deep breath, agitated when he laughs. He retracts his hand, smoothing back his chaotic mane before leaning in for another peck. And that’s all it remains — interrupted immediately, saliva mixing with the shower water.

“I’m so fucking crazy for you,” he confesses; the shiver doesn’t hesitate crawling down your spine — neither does Jungkook, peppering your neck with kisses.

His actions are smooth — you let him do anything. Like, explore every little spot of your skin. From the softness of your face, down to the flesh of your ass, echoing hard when a flat hand slaps it out of nowhere.

You propel forwards, barely aware of your surroundings. The shower raining onto you is the only indicator of where you still are.

So when he turns you carefully, 180 until your back touches the tiles, you don’t realise his intentions for a moment. Only when he changes his approach, digging your shoulders hard into the wall, knocking you out of breath.

“Are you trying to—” you ask, but he interjects right away.

“Don’t question it this time, okay?” His face inches close again, teeth suddenly pulling and nibbling at your lip. “Just let us do. Lemme do, yeah?”

His chest presses against your tits before he backs away and palms your mounds, squeezing nearly painfully.

For only a heartbeat, though — he doesn’t stall further. Because another second passes before you’re turned in his grip, chest not touching his anymore, but the wall now. From behind you, he grasps your hips, dragging you back just a couple inches; enough to sneak his hand through.

“But whenever things get too much, you…”

You nod. Promise, “Will tell you. I will.”

“Good.” His cock pokes between your ass, and he spreads its cheeks. Lets the hardness rest between them, sliding up and down. “Gonna make you feel so good, though. Wanna make you feel so fucking good.”

Wow… wow, f—

Not that you were ever interested in it before, but…

Part of you wants him to shove it in anywhere. Wherever the fuck he wants. You’d endure all hour-long foreplay and pleas and tears for him.

And perhaps he’s thinking the same. Perhaps you even spoke it out loud — you wouldn’t be surprised if you did. But you choke on your spit when he says, “Missing the sex toys. Like… What do you think of new ones, hm? Someday, maybe. Like— like an anal pl—”

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll do fucking anything for you.”

Break in conversation. Then, “Holy shit.” He chuckles. Fuck — his voice is deeper now, isn’t it? “You’re being whiny. I thought you’re a badass business woman, but you’re so whiny.”

“Because— I can breathe when I work.”

“Ohh. And now,” he whispers, close to your ear, hand moving. Up and further up, stopping around your throat, as if he’s testing your statement. As if he could tell him anything about the state of your lungs. “Now we’re not as focused, right?”

“No thinking when I suck your dick.”

“Dammit. Really don’t wanna wait to fuck you numb.”

You’re shamelessly jittery, patience out the window. “Don’t then. Get to it now.”

“Nope. I know you’re not ready yet. And I’m not either… so—”

He steps closer, forcing your body further forward until your cheek is squished against the wall. His fingers leave your throat to find another target; something far more south, a lot more dangerous.

One small circle drawn around your clit, you gasp, hearing him ask, “You think you can come with just my fingers?”

“I don’t know. I honestly think I need—”

He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, too. You’re hilarious sometimes.

“You think you’re so smart. But we can still try, though.” He says it casually, as if the two of you don’t exactly know that he’s perfectly capable of pulling through. But his voice still softens when you don’t answer, “Hey. You wanna try, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Anything,” you convince him, “anything, Kook.”

“Good girl. The best, always.”

His touch vanishes. You let out a mildly confused sound, observing with an unfocused vision how he opens the shower door a little. He reaches for the towel on the washing machine, drying his fingers, other hand moving the shower head until it’s mostly wetting his own back.

It’s a tiny detail, really. You only told him once how action around the clit might become uncomfortable with hands priorly washed or wet, and it seems he remembered.

Your eyes shut when he returns to your bundle of nerves, massaging gently, skilled. It starts slow at first; you feel the hot wetness build in and around your entrance, the line between the shower water and your arousal fading.

Jungkook’s movements, calculated and systematic, only spur your body on. He’s always known what he’s doing; has analysed and explored what you want. How you want it.

It’s true heaven to you: the way he kisses your cheek. The way he draws moans out of you, the motions around your swollen bud rhythmic. Your back and limbs tingle; you don’t know what to do with yourself.

And when you can’t stand still anymore, Jungkook orders, “Stop that. You’ll break my jaw.”

“Sorry.”

Your apology is timid, tiny; he laughs. “You cutie… you’re adorable even in moments like these.”

You throw your head against his shoulder as if to oppose him, opening your eyes, looking straight into his eyes. Your eyebrows are kissing, tension between them, mouth agape.

And he adds, “Or maybe not.”

He lifts you up a bit, dragging your body along the wall — you didn’t even notice that you slid down this much, angled, ass darting out like this. But you also don’t mind the arm that rounds your torso, just underneath your tits, keeping you steady when he takes it up a notch and—

“Oh my god,” you squeak when he pushes two fingers in. “Yes, yes, please—”

The incoherent, random requests are his favourite. Most of the time, he knows better than you what you’re pleading for. Which is why he doesn’t stop this time; probably more in the mood to please you than tease you.

From this position, he can’t reach knuckles deep, but just enough to brush the walnutty spot inside. And to your surprise, the orgasm builds up fast; the first quiver takes over your knees, but you understand that this is nothing compared to what’s to come.

You press your hands to the wall, holding onto remnants of your sanity when he kisses your neck, and along your damp shoulders. His mouth is hot against your pulse, wet hair tickling under your jaw. He bites lightly; soothes the fleeting sting with his tongue. Vampiristic.

Like a sensual massage, well thought out, pornographic.

And then he picks up on pace. Whispers, “That’s right— we got this—”

He starts pumping into you; relishes your incomprehensible curses. The thumb over your clit and the impatience of his fingers inside are a dichotomy, and you don’t know what to focus on. Which is why you stop thinking altogether.

Jungkook takes a sharp breath, quiet whistling sounds included, and then groans into your ear when you do. He keeps his motions up diligently, fingers a bit deeper with each time your ass moves back an inch.

As an aid, he shifts his arm, too, pushing forward, palm pressing against your clit now.

And when you come, you melt. Nearly collapsing, you keep moving, on edge, every spot of your body in tremor. You can barely breathe; you’ve been nestled in the heat of the shower for way too long.

He notices your tremble in an instant, encourages, “Got it. Got you. Keep going, baby, c’mon.”

The peak is blissful; you don’t want to ever fall off the edge again. Want to remain in this starry, gorgeous ache. Your eyes could stay in the back of your head; the world may keep fading. And you don’t need to know where you are.

All you know is that your voice sounds odd, high when you pant, “Don’t go away yet.”

“I’m right here. Right here, got you,” he repeats, holding you upright.

Jungkook knows — knows how to get you from lowest lows to your highest highs. Today was as pleasant as a day at work can be; but if he’s ready to do all this to you on any other, worse day, too, you might never encounter grief again.

He scatters kisses all over your jaw when you’re done — busies himself as you catch your breath, swallowing, eyes closed. Once you’ve caught yourself enough to utter fragments of sentences at least, you tell him, “Something not human about you, Jeon.”

“Oh. Are we back to surnames now?” He cackles, soothing motions along your arms. “Are we gonna shake hands, too, once we’re done? Bow and say thank you?”

You shake your head, though the stupid smile doesn’t wait to spread on your face.

“You’re dumb,” you say.

“You make me dumb.”

He drops his touch, brushing your pussy again — maybe as a test. But you’re sensitive and vulnerable, closing your legs and opening your mouth in response. He’s sly; uses the moment to push two fingers in right away, pressing your tongue down.

And you, as challenge-accepting as ever, start sucking, tasting some of yourself. You wrap your hand around his, moving your head, chest still heaving from the exhaustion. Your eyes close slowly enough for him to see them roll back, a reaction to the images your brain creates.

Like, the thought of the member currently poking you replacing those digits. The prospect of emptying him entirely.

“Fuuuuck— wish my brain could take a picture of this and save it forever,” he says, voice strained.

You open your mouth, licking a strip along his finger, past the tattoo. “What’d you do with it?”

“Would… would bring it to the forefront of my mind,” Jungkook begins, reclaiming his hand and dragging it down to your waist, “and use it whenever you’re away.”

“Hmmm… and then?”

“Would just…”

He doesn’t continue. Only shakes his head, lifting his shoulders, stance desperate and wanting; maybe he’s even a little out of his mind.

You egg him on, “Show me if you can’t say it.”

It’s a surprise that he obliges, but then again, it’s not. You always forget just how weak he is — that his heart sits right there in your palms, his body a magnet to yours.

So you’re endlessly pleased when your eyes flit down to a hand around his dick. Stroking slowly, its head hard against your pelvis. And you manage to watch a tiny second longer until the floor beckons you towards it, down to your knees.

It’s uncomfortable immediately; slick and odd. But you’re distracted by your dry tongue, thirsting, ridiculously hypnotised by the cock dangling in front of you. And then his thighs… muscular and thick. You reach out to them, holding them, steering forwards.

Despite his delicate frailty, you don’t fare any better. Ready to bruise your knees like an obedient doll, eyes wide when you look up at him. You grip him softly, urging him to remove his hand, stroking in his stead.

You pass all pleasantries and hesitations, and dive in immediately — leading your mouth to the tip before wrapping your lips around it delicately. Determined, you let only a second pass, eager as you start moving right away.

Bobbing your head, you take him in as much as your gag reflex allows. He’s too big — it’s impossible to ever swallow him fully. But no matter how greedy you are, that’s it.

You don’t give into it all the way just yet.

Instead, you back away after another lick. Straighten your body, drawing in and repositioning until you can push your tits together around the stiffness.

His groan tumbles out of him broken, choked, a hand against the wall. His abs are rippling, bicep bulged, nipples tiny and perked. Dark brown. Eyes hazy.

You want to do so many fucking things to him — want to mount him. Pull his head back by his long strands. Want, need to kiss him, rub yourself on him, back and forth along his cock until his moans become uncontrolled. Sticky white cum sprayed over his tummy.

Your nails in your skin, yearning for more — that’s one of your billion thoughts.

Instead, you summarise your wants, whispering a single, simple, fucked out, “I…” You gulp down the knot. Shiver at your position, craving the hot water a little now. Then command, “Fuck my mouth.”

His eyes threaten to fall out of his head; like they always do. He knows it’s a constant reaction, too, it seems, because, “God. I’ll never get used to you saying this.”

“You better, though.”

“Right. Right…”

He caresses your face, pushes your hair back. Perhaps he’s had enough of the pace; because he soon reaches for your arms, compliant deer kicked out of his head as he forces your wrists up and crosses them against the wall.

One hand is all he needs to hold them in their place. One hand gripping them hard, disabling any movement of your arms.

You let out a strange, obscene sound, finding utter liking in this gesture.

But despite your pleasure, he still eases you into the process, the heart tattoo grazing your cheek. A touch so soft that you think he’s praising you, wordlessly and gently. Making sure you’re absolutely okay with whatever he does to you.

And you confirm it with another blink, stretching out your tongue, ready. Holding his gaze. Mesmerised and frustrated, he says, “You’ll kill me with the way you look at me.”

Jungkook fuels your confidence with vigour each time, eloquent through scorching heat, too. Because you don’t think you’ve ever smiled this self-assured before you knew him; or been certain about your power over others.

You used to be far more insecure than that, feigning ignorance and carelessness, but reevaluating your decisions every step of the way. Months ago, you could’ve never predicted such a shift in conviction towards yourself.

So it’s new to you, but invigorating at the same time, the grin you sport, the words you utter, “Killing you isn’t my intention,” when he doesn’t, you move your head towards the leaking head of his cock, awaiting destruction, “wanna make you feel more alive than ever.”

The breath tumbling out of his mouth is ragged, pinky finger twitching a tiny bit when you wrap your lips around the tip and then let it go with a plop again; like it’s a lollipop to you.

Your knees move closer to his feet, and he stretches his one hand to your shoulder, making sure you don’t get hurt on the slippery ground. But you’re far too distracted to appreciate the gesture just yet, even though you feel the faint tickling along your limbs.

“I got it,” Jungkook then says, back in charge, hands back on the protruding, thick veins.

He moves his hips forward, testing. You roll out your tongue once more, closing your eyes. Try to make more room in your mouth, despite knowing it’s a thing of impossibility. And to your chagrin, it takes only a few more seconds for you to be full already.

Taking in as much as your throat allows, you gag when you reach your limit, letting out a tiny cough, salivating. You still can’t move your arms; his fingers are like chains around your wrists.

“That enough?” he asks. “I’ll stop here, okay?”

You nod. Wait. When he doesn’t move, you start pulling back, and then push forward again immediately. Your tongue is drenched in absolute filth; the spit trails down your chin, and you wish it was his.

But that’s not the point of it all — you’re not supposed to comfortably bop your head back and forth, are you? Despite the daily softness between the two of you, you want to be used. Want all his greed.

And he knows. Asks, “What do you need?”

Of course you can’t speak. He’s aware of that; stares down at you as you breathe heavily around him, mouth stuffed to the brim. Cheeks aching from the circumference.

You moan around him, parting your lips, moving your tongue from under his dick to swirl it around it a little. You move back, tasting the liquid minimally dripping out of his slit. Fuck, you want all of it, in thick, sickening ropes, in loads and buckets.

“Won’t even back away to speak,” he teases, words contradictory, because he won’t allow you to take a break either. Shoves himself inside again; you’re embarrassed that you only manage half of his length. “The dedication is hotter than it should be—”

Full, coherent sentences. How?

But even his string of thought breaks when he starts in earnest. Filling up your mouth once more, as much as he can and then a bit more for good measure. You adjust to his movements, suck down immediately.

You don’t care about the loss of voice later; you want to eat him up entirely.

His strokes grow harder by the second, rock hard inside you. You move your head until the head pokes against the inside of your cheek, and the tight wetness affects him, his knees buckling by one single inch.

“Easy…” he whispers, shaking his head, water drops landing on your face. “Fuck. Wanna have you hanging off the bed one day. Wanna see my cock ram your throat…”

Easy, he said. He’s definitely not being easy on you, though. Not with these admissions. Not with his motions.

The thrusts aren’t just hard, but deliberate and controlled, too. Your head keeps pushing back, lightly touching the wall. You’re far over sucking his dick, way too obedient and submissive to define it like that.

No, you’re being fucked. Gagging and choking around him, sucking in the spit whenever only his tip remains inside, sounds lewd and specific. Coming from the back of your throat, wet, hot and bothered.

God, you wish you were strong enough to take him all the way down to the base, licking at his balls, feeling his twitching dick thumping at the very far back. But you guess this is more than enough for him, too.

Because he holds your wrists harder, a rope around them, digging into your skin. The free hand wipes your hair away again, your body sweat-soaked while the shower water still trickles down his back.

He holds you there; then reaches for your nipple; pinches it hard over your heavily heaving chest, pleased when you open your eyes and look up at him. Waterline damp — the dangling chain might just be one of the reasons for that.

“Bit more,” he mumbles, and you think he’ll surrender right there, inside your mouth.

Which is why you sit up straighter, more determined, licking at the underside of his cock when he drags it out a little. His balls hang in your face and you reach for them, tongueing, hungry, not wanting him to move away now.

He doesn’t. Not yet. Relief courses through you, swallowing around his thickness again. Rolling your eyes back, hearing subtle “Doing well, so well, angel”s, ignoring the pain in your arms as he holds them upright.

You hollow your cheeks when he buries himself in deep, struggling when he stops right there. He doesn’t move; your eyes well up harder. All air enters and escapes through your nose, and you’re shaking, holding his stare as he keeps his cock in place, absolutely still.

That is, until you can barely breathe anymore, nails digging into your palms, arms trying to escape. He doesn’t say a word yet, only lets your hands drop. Your shoulders crack a bit, and you shake your arms, filling up your lungs, your palms next to his feet.

His cock is covered in your spit when you look again; your gaping mouth and chin similarly drenched.

And only when your head stops spinning, does he hold his hands towards you, urging you to take them as he says, “Sorry, baby. You did so well, I…”

You grip his fingers feebly, getting up on weak knees. Instead of holding onto your hands, he soon wraps an arm around your body, pulling you up before he asks, “Less next time?”

“No,” the word comes out as a squeak, throat already affected, “I’ll always tap if I feel it’s too much. I promi— promise.”

“Good,” he praises, a kiss to your damp forehead. He turns the water off. “That’s all I want, baby. Look at me.”

You’re already exhausted, staring down, fatigue fuelled by the hot water. Your eyes flutter open as you meet his gaze, and he puts a hand to your cheek, thumb on your swollen lower lip.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he compliments; his hand must be heating up under your touch, “did you know? So sweet and stunning. It makes me sick.”

“Thought I was the only one. You…” He looks at you, and you hold him tight, smiling about your joke in advance. “You have such an effect on me, it makes me wanna throw up.”

Right. So in love, it makes your stomach turn.

“Please don’t,” he pleads, conjuring a tender eye smile. The wide grin is unreal. “And let’s get out of here. We can’t keep standing here.”

“Waste of water.”

“Yes, waste of water. That, too. And I should have some lube in the bedroom.”

Of course he’s as impatient as you — although you’re almost a hundred percent sure you could do without that stuff easily. The insides of your thighs are slippery, and you’re certain the shower wasn’t the sole reason for that.

Your legs feel weird, your body heavy when you finally get out. The cosy bathroom is filled with steam and heat, but at least you can breathe easier here than under the piping hot water.

The mirror is fogged up; you glance into it to check your state, but recognise nothing but your vague form. You wipe a stripe the size of your hand along it as you walk past, halting at the door. And when you look back, Jungkook is making quick, brief work on picking up the clothes you haphazardly threw to the side before.

“You don’t wanna do this later?” you ask, still fond.

It’s just him cleaning up the floor, but… you enjoy watching him do mundane things. You might never be able to explain why, but you do.

“Just throwing them into the washing machine. Will turn it on later,” he answers.

He straightens his body with a sigh when he’s done, sniffling as he usually does. His eyes are hidden behind his long hair, so he lifts both his hands to brush the soaked tresses back. The muscles of his arms are mountainous and firm. Tattoos ending at his shoulder.

He’s indescribably pretty like that. Looking up, lips parted, jaw chiselled.

You observe him for a bit longer, gaze trailing down his body. Small nipples, broad and sculpted pecs, six painfully visible rectangles of abs. Cock still mostly awake.

Fuck.

Crossing your legs, you bite your lips, one hand on the door handle. You take in the domesticity. The moment might be subtle and casual, but something about it is incredibly homely.

How you speak to each other, and how his washing machine is cleaning both your clothes. It’s the little things, isn’t it?

Your eyes are fond when you say, “Whenever it does happen… I can already imagine all of it clearly.”

“Hm?” He blinks at you. “All of what, baby?”

“Of being here with you. All the time.” His motions stop. He drops his arms, a strand falling back into his face, but he doesn’t care. Glances at you for a couple seconds until you smile and nod towards the door. “Let’s go.”

But it seems he changed his mind in this split second that you turn to the exit.

Because all of a sudden, just as he did before, he tugs you back. And just like before, you land against the wall, having him staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time. His voice is a whisper, enchanting, “Okay… you know what. Forget it.”

“Huh?”

“Fuck lube, okay?” His eyes are glued to your lips. Then to your pupils. He looks lost. “We can manage. Don’t need the bedroom… just you. Want you right now.”

“Jungko—”

You don’t anticipate it — so it draws a small moan out of you when his fingers suddenly graze between your legs, digging in for just a moment. Fingering you for a split second as you gasp — and then they disappear again.

He moves in to kiss your cheek. Just a peck first. Then his lips open against your neck, hand moving up your body and pushing your tit up. His tongue soon joins the fun, darting through his parted lips, sucking your tits hard. Biting, groaning, moaning.

“Jungkook.” You push your touch through his hair as he kisses his way further down, nibbling at your sides, and you whine, “Don’t wanna wait, Kook…”

His eyes are closed and his voice hushed, raspy and deep as he says between kisses, “I’ll be gone for a moment, baby. You’ll barely notice, I promise.”

Strange how he means distanced from your kiss, not from your body. Strange how you miss each other while in the same room, but not melted into each other.

You’re losing your mind. Throwing your head back, ruining your hair against the tiles. Eyes droopy and hazy, mind turning in various directions as you relish each touch and peck. Your body relaxes; all the weight of the world off your shoulders.

Jungkook fondles your body, caresses all of you, planting kisses on your tummy, your waist, your pelvis. Continues to tug at the flesh of your thighs with his lips. It feels like a massage, not painful but gentle. Careful as he hoists up one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder. 

And then… he starts.

His tongue flashes out to your clit. Parts your folds. It’s difficult from this position, but his pointy wet muscle paints patterns over your pussy. And you reel.

Jungkook truly is an artist. Knows to make you mewl, turns your breaths laboured. You move your hips, guiding his face closer with your hand in his hair, slowly riding it. The French kisses, the brush against your thighs… he’s…

God.

“God,” you echo, “I love this, I—”

He’s feasting. Letting out alluring sounds, spurring you on, and you almost topple over the edge. But Jungkook knows what he’s doing — leaves you yearning, moving away and up to you.

When he said he’d be gone for a moment, he truly meant it.

Your lip quivers when he looks at you, ordering a soft, “You’ll come together with me.” He raises your chin. “Okay? You and I together. Always.”

Must be a hidden message. He’s not just talking about sex anymore, is he? But him and you in one bubble, separated from the world. Nothing but you, you and you.

You barely wait another second. Instead, you immediately lurch forwards, initiating a kiss beyond sinful from the start. Teeth clashing, tongues feral. For a couple seconds you breathe into each other, letting out odd noises, his hand pulling your leg back up again and pinning it against the wall.

You’re on your tippy toes when his cock teases your entrance, his lips soon on your shoulder again. Cold chain brushing your skin. He’s sucking harshly, guiding his dick inside with determination. Sheer impatience is palpable in his touch and audible in his sounds.

The head of his dick parts your folds, diving in; and you let out a moan so lustful that he grows downright desperate against your shoulder. Standing here like this is hard, too; so he puts his palms on your ass, commands—

“Jump once.”

“What?”

“Jump,” he repeats, “I’ll hold you. Want you, please.”

“Okay…” you mumble. You put your hands on his broad shoulder, readying yourself, “Okay.”

And then you do — immediately wrapping your legs around him. And he lets you fall slowly, body pressed against yours, so you’re sandwiched between him and the wall; so he can guide his hardness back to your cunt.

You drop onto it slowly, carefully. Impaling yourself on him, inch by inch penetrating your insides. The more you take in, the deeper the crease between your eyebrows. And when he’s bottomed out, you feel like… yourself again?

Because what moment is more intimate than this? What moment allows you to crawl out of your shell more than this?

Even if in a crude sense, this is yet another definition of home. And every definition can be traced back to him.

“You feeling alright?” he asks, and you nod immediately.

“Is a bit weird, but…” you hold onto him, one hand moving to his face. You don’t finish your sentence; only nod, exhaling against his lips.

“Can I start?”

Another nod; and then he starts pumping in. Slowly in and out; you’re firmly in place against the wall, slipping just a little. His hands engulf your ass again — his strength is mind-numbing, and his sounds loud as he splits you in two.

Your eyes shut for a mini moment, and when they crack open again, they’re met with the still mirror. It’s fogging up again, yet still clear enough to make out Jungkook’s back; the form of his body. Your thoughts tangle up.

You’ve seen him shirtless a million times before, fully bare — but it might be the first time you’re enjoying this very perspective. And the entirety of him… leaves you gasping. Butt naked, ass muscles flexing, the triangle shaped back smooth. Where do his guts even fit?

They’re a blessing, those reflections, catching the way he’s standing, ramming into you. And then you, burying your nails into his shoulder blades, expression fucked out, body moving up and down the wall. Having things done to you by him.

You’re so fucking lucky.

You mutter, “Kook…”

“Yes, baby.”

“You look so good… so…”

“Mmmh, you do, too,” the sentence starts in a clear tone, but morphs into a whisper, “just… can’t see enough of you… shit, babe—”

He leans in, parting your lips with his, your tongues touching as he delivers a rough jab just once. And that’s when things stop working for you.

Because soon enough, you’re swaying to the side, nearly falling; as his protective instincts kick in, immediately holding you, his cock jumps out. And he shakes his head, pecking your temple once, and then deducts, “Okay. This won’t do.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in agreement, weak on your legs, “bad idea for sure.”

“Hold up.”

He’s quick to turn you around, thoroughly in charge of your body tonight — you’re fully under his mercy. Ready to kneel and bend for him. And Jungkook, understanding your boundaries, gives you all you need — knows what to do, knows when to stop.

And you keep handing over control; more so when he pushes you over the sink, stating, “Okay. Looks easier.” A pause. “Looks so much fucking better, too.”

Wish you could see. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re tense.

He leans down to kiss your back. His dick pokes between your ass cheeks again, slipping down and further down until it makes itself home between your nether lips again.

It falls into it in one fell swoop, swiftly, as if it’s no effort at all — guess it never is.

And god, does the position feel heavenly.

Balls deep inside; the first angle that allows full unhinged, animalistic mode.

But he still starts out slow; with long strokes and a hand in your hair. You tumble backwards a little, urging him to move too, lifting your ass higher and pushing your legs together for maximal effect.

Allowing more tightness for him; more friction for you.

“I… missed fucking you so much,” he says between thrusts. “You feel unreal.”

You guess you do. He does, too. Maybe the two of you need a reminder that this is all too real; perhaps a tantalising equivalent to a wake-up-pinch.

So you suggest, “Fuck me harder, Kook.”

“Hmm… want that?”

“Been waiting so fucking long.”

And while a lover of patience and anticipation — who is he to reject your wishes after the entire ordeal occurring in this room? The two of you have dragged out this moment plenty.

So he listens fast; soon using your neck as leverage as his inked fingers wrap it smoothly. Agreeing, “It’d be my literal pleasure, babe.”

God, he’s a dumbass — but you can’t physically react. Too caught up in something else; storing the laughter and jokes for later.

Because he picks up on pace, not too much right away; but enough for his hips to slap against your ass. Enough for you to be catapulted forwards with a whine, cheek pressing to the glass.

You lift your hand, accidentally wiping again, but only manage a trail, hand sliding down. From behind, you hear a hoarse praise, “Looks so fucking hot,” he draws a sharp breath, nearly hissing, “I promise I’ll be careful, just…”

He pulls at your hair. Shoves his cock inside rougher, face closer to you, lips to your cheek. Swallows hard enough for you to hear, and then, “Tell me if it’s too much. Am careful until I can’t be, baby.”

Until he loses control. He says it right before he drops all inhibitions and — goes feral.

You squint your eyes shut, calling out his name; the word echoes in the small room, and for just a second, you worry the neighbours might hear. And then right away, you stop caring again.

Because you want this man. Now and later and forever; want him like this, want him in any way. This isn’t just sex to you — if that’s what you wanted, you’d download an app like your freshman self used to.

No.

No matter how obscene, there’s meaning in every one of your touches; in every stroke, in every word, in every single time you lose yourself in him.

Your stomach twists as he jackhammers into you; you’re craving proximity, craving all his attention. Want all of his emotions and touches raw and merciless. Want to see him.

Although, when your shut eyes open, you only see blurry forms in the mirror moving, him behind you. He squeezes your neck; you see that much before he slides it down your body, straight to your clit, no detours.

He pushes his knee up for a second, touching the edge of the sink and balancing on one leg, but drops it again soon. The white painted, stainless steel of the sink, previously cold on your tummy, burns against your skin now. A chafing feeling.

Jungkook draws more forms against your clit, but then retracts his hand; instead, squishing your tits, indecisive where to touch. But it’s the last move he makes before he straightens his body, palms on your ass until he spanks just once and…

Pulls out again.

What?

“Look at me, sweetheart,” you register.

You pant, fingers clutching the sink and gulping down the tiredness before you manage a turn. Your eyes land on his dick first; it’s fully drenched in your arousal, so unbreakably stiff.

He whispers again, “Look at me,” but the moment you do, he doesn’t withhold your stare for too long. Instead, his hands are back on your cheeks, drawing you close, seeking your lips. His never-satisfied thirst matches yours; you want to remain here and freeze time.

With your arms around his neck, he guides you towards the washing machine, pushing the clothes further aside. He helps you get on it, but you argue immediately, “This could be dangerous, right? Shouldn’t sit here, I think… might break…”

“It’ll be okay,” he says, making himself comfortable between your legs, pushing them apart with his thighs. Two fingers hold your chin, lips ghosting over yours. “Is a cheap ass thing… want a new one anyway.”

You wonder if he’ll say that about all the furniture he’ll fuck you on. Because observing his eyes, you know that he will — will soil every inch of his apartment within, what you anticipate, a short period of time.

But unfortunately for the washing machine, you’re too weak to reject the offer.

So you hold him tight, jostling him closer to you as you ask, “Yeah?”

“Mhmmmm.” The word drowns in your moan when his cock glides back in; when will you ever get used to this? “Don’t worry… won’t break as badly as we will.”

Well, fuck.

The ridges of his cock drag just right along your walls, the angle making your mouth water. Your cunt is burning; and he still dares to ask, “Okay like that?”

“More than okay, Kook… more than—”

He always screws you numb; barely ever lets you finish your sentences. Your moans have become a constant interruption, along with the goddamn things he says, “Your pussy is so good. So, so good.”

And then he’s back making out with you, sweatier than before. His body is enticingly warm, muscles working on you. Both his and your hair sticks to the nape of the neck or your back, and you hold onto him, keening against his lips.

Then, you lean back for a second, keyed up as fuck, propping up your body with your arms. Your palms press against the back of the machine, and he inches close to explore the bare skin of your torso. His chain skims your nipples, as if on purpose; and he kisses you here, there, everywhere.

Neck, clavicles, tits, jaw.

Perspiring without an end, all of this could be gross. But instead, you feel hyped up, sexy as never before. Dizzy at the sight of his golden skin, the small beads of sweat spreading on it.

It takes one or two more minutes of this insanity until things come to an eventual end. A glorious end, that is — filled with deep moans, squealed calls of names, unrhythmic thrusts that fasten for the finale.

“I’ll come,” Jungkook states, and you shoot back up to him, holding his head against the mounds of your tits. He kisses between them, breathing irregular, words muffled, “Gonna come so hard, what the f—”

And when he does, you lose all coherent thoughts immediately. Not that you could think before — but his uncontrolled exclaims already make you wish for a whole new round. Nevermind that your pussy is wrecked and beaten.

Vocal as ever, he finishes with deep shoves, slowing down with each second. His lips remain open between your collarbones, and you feel his eyebrows draw together. Thick strings of hot cum filling you up, your cunt tightens.

And somehow, after all this, he still finds the energy to sneak his hand between your bodies, blindly seeking your clit until he finds it. Familiar circles render you breathless, even though they’re lazy — but picking up on intensity when he leans back, still breathing hard.

He looks absolutely done — still fucking the rest of him into you. But you’re moaning and groaning, and he’s far from giving up as he says, “Come with me, baby.”

Honestly, he doesn’t need to tell you. You’re already calling and blurting out random words, already limp. Wrapping your legs around his torso with the tiny remaining energy you have left, absolutely insane.

Jungkook kisses you one last time. And you let the build up in your lower tummy and pussy proceed; up and up and up to the peak — until he delivers one last stroke, cock already softening, finger on your nub diligent and…

You milk his dick in its entirety. Your pussy clenches and unclenches. Random figures swim in your vision, flashy behind your eyelids. Limbs trembling, body a mess and fingers hooking into his chain, you only notice now that you’re repeatedly whispering his name.

Winding and crying. Trying not to tug too hard, to break the jewellery, but still urging him closer, closer.

You’re shivering, surviving the vertigo, breathing stagnant. Trying to control it. Quivering like fucking crazy, not feeling your legs.

Also hating how his cum is dripping onto the damn washing machine. In your hazy mood, you laugh a little.

It takes a bit of time for the two of you to calm down, to dim the adrenaline in your nerves. Your chests rise and fall in unison, still clutching to the embrace. His skin is flushed, yours hot, skin tingling with the lingering heat of the passed passion.

And when he finally moves back, looking at you, you see half a dozen things in there. Satisfaction and vulnerability among them. Maybe even a hint of mischievousness, proud of whatever just happened; happy with the emotions it conjured.

Stars in his eyes. Contentment, composure and affection at last.

A pleasant stillness follows, the world outside the bathroom nonexistent. The aftermath of the steamy encounter lingers until you break the silence after all.

“When the hell,” you start, throat dry, “did you get so broad?”

“…What?”

“You just. You looked endless in the mirror. You’re so—”

Amused, he displays a grin as sly as you adore. He tsks and then mocks, “Stop drooling.”

“You first.”

His chuckle is throaty; a result of the constant exclaims and the absolute dehydration. You give the two of you a moment to collect saliva on your tongue, to swallow and wet your cords.

Your fingers paint an invisible, light pattern on his skin; tracing his tattoos is one of your favourite things to do. You jest, “That’s a good way to destress.”

He arches an eyebrow, then rolls his eyes — but the devotion towards you behind the gesture is irrefutable. It carries into his words, no matter how playfully mocking his tone or his sighs, “Everything for the princess.”

“So,” you pause, lips curling into a soft smile. “Is this what I’m gonna be getting for the rest of my life?”

You see it immediately. The explosion in his eyes; the burst of stars in the depths of his pupils. Clear as the night sky, fond and sweet and magical. Guess you spoke big words for sure.

“…The rest of your life, huh?” he asks.

“No?”

“Is that what you want?”

Ever-the-boomerang, you gauge his reaction, closing the distance between you. Lips barely apart, you throw back again, “Don’t you?”

You don’t need to glance through his ribs, lungs, blood and skin; you see the swelling around his heart. Emotions swimming in it in abundance. You see all of it right in his eyes.

And his voice proves it; delicate and quiet, “Baby… you make my heart drop to my stomach all the time. Do I not look at you like I want a rest of my life with you?”

Gosh. You’re too weak for this.

“Look at me like that more often,” you answer, breathing against him, eyes dancing with delight, “maybe I’ll believe you then.”

“Huh,” he makes, letting out an entertained huff, “brat. Maybe later. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed for now, alright?”

Right. You forgot you’re still here. Snapping back into reality is always a task.

Of course it is.

Because your world is a cocoon; you don’t want to leave it just yet. And maybe, somewhere in the near future — you won’t have to anyway.

Jungkook and you don’t waste minutes doing formalities tonight. No flickering candle flames; no organised set up of your table. You dim the lights, snatching a lamp from his bedroom and rely on it along with the TV’s brightness.

You filled your plates and stomachs with a dish he’s wanted to show you for a while. It’s some special Jeon recipe — limited to him specifically, not his family. The brief cut in your relationship kept you from the meal, but watching him fiddle with the pots and cutlery was worth the wait after all.

He’s still proud of it; you’re filled to the brim, sick to the core, but the noodle-Buldak-mayo-perilla-oil-combination introduced the night just perfectly.

Your body is limp against his after dinner, bloated. A mutual agreement concluded that watching a movie might be the easiest activity you could indulge in to further destress. So you cuddle up, eyes droopy as you wait for the Netflix logo and thump to subside.

You let the username float by, though unable to suppress your giggle. Your back shakes against him, his hand halting mid-air, remote control in it, and you comment, “Letjungcook7. You’re such a dork.”

“Why?” You look back, met with raised eyebrows and round eyes. “Do you not like it?”

“I love it. Don’t you ever dare change it.”

He tuts, trademark smirk tilted; responds, “And don’t you ever change your Sunny Baudelaire icon.”

“God, she’s an iconic baby,” you groan, enthusiastic; your hands gesture to the TV, Baudelaires nowhere in sight, “I will never shut up about this show.”

“That’s why you’re not allowed to change it. Kinda cute how much you love it.”

“Jungkook,” you tug at his unoccupied arm, placing his wrist and palm over your belly button, “would you ever rewatch it with me?”

His hand rubs gently over your shirt, and then drops until his fingers are toying with your — his — jogger’s strings. “I’m a pro at rewatching. I’m down.”

You whisper a dragged celebratory word, eyes back to the screen. He’s scrolling through the genres fast, barely inhaling the titles and summaries. And when he skips three more of the stuff you’d usually settle on, you say, “Don’t think you’ll find anything on there.”

Ironically enough, he answers, “We’ve barely looked. Look. Knives Out’s second part is on there.”

“I just watched it recently. Hmm, what about that Poe movie with Christian Bale?”

On cue, he passes it three seconds later, only stopping on it for a moment before he voices, “Hmm…”

You wait. Drag out another second. Then conclude, “Okay, you’re not feeling it. Got it. Something else?”

“What about Disney?”

“What about scrolling until we fall asleep?”

The hand still busy with the strings moves up to your sides, pinching you lightly. You flinch, hard enough to nearly break his nose, overdramatic by nature. Amidst your commotion, you hear him say, “Don’t mock me. I’ll kick you from the couch.”

“I’ll just stay on the floor then.”

“Angel, I swear.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.”

But you’re not.

Because the bicker continues for another ten minutes, remote control snatched every now and then, ideas suggested and immediately rejected.

Jungkook admits his guilty pleasures merely a couple minutes later, and you conjure all your patience and discourse abilities to explain why you can’t watch The Notebook or Titanic anymore.

But once Dion’s soprano voice builds a nest in a lobe of your brain, you give in, half laughing, half agitated as you tackle the 90s classic — only for Jungkook to click out again.

“It’s no fun when we’re not both ready to watch it.”

“Dude…”

More scrolling, you guess.

Five more minutes pass — and eventually, Titanic deserted, you sing the songs of Coco instead. You expect Jungkook’s attention and lips to shift halfway through the movie, tracing down your neck or along your sides – a standard for a weekday movie night.

But to your surprise, he powers through it with minimal dialogue and wide, focused eyes. Palm above your ribs, moveless under your shirt and his cheek pressed against your heartbeat, you assume he’s fallen asleep by the time the credits roll.

Until – you feel warm liquid wetting your shirt, a sniffle combining with his shaky breath before you ask with your own damp eyes, “Babe— are you crying?”

His answer is delightfully unashamed and immediate, “I’ve never watched Coco without crying.”

The soft strains of the movie’s soundtrack won’t let your eyes dry either; but Jungkook seems far more into it than you. Adoration burns hot in your veins.

“You never told me that!” you exclaim.

“Because it’s not worth telling. Should be a given — these movies are made to cry to!”

You giggle through your tears. Jungkook’s mind works in miraculous ways — non-judgemental, yet probably flashing a side-eye to those who do not partake in a sob fest during Coco or Encanto.

“I honestly love how you’re not a toxic male at all, you know?” you point out; you feel a huff against your chest.

At least he’s smiling through the brief sadness, too.

You crane your neck, not quite turning around just yet, and watch him rub his cheek clean off the tears. Not that his eyes have stopped welling up, though.

For a moment, you observe, staring at the swollen, pouty lower lip. His pupils glimmer in the TV’s light, long locks brushed back; half of them tied in a tiny ponytail.

You could overthink every detail of his face. Tell him all about his everlasting elegance. Instead, you only lower your voice, soft as you say, “You look pretty even when you cry.”

“Thank you,” he returns, though fingertips still work at the liquid, and you can’t help but laugh.

You can barely believe that’s the same confident beast who was pressing you against cool tiles just an hour ago. The stark contrast baffles you.

You’re amused when you question, “It really affects you so much?”

“Everything about it!” he immediately argues. You expand your eyes. “The way Coco looks at Miguel at the end. And that freaking moment when she meets her parents at the end. Does it not affect you?”

“Oh, of course it does,” you defend, “I’m a story girl. I’ll cry reading and watching these things, for sure.”

“And then the lyrics,” he continues, in his element a hundred percent, “the thought of remembering someone even after they’re gone and far away…”

The further his sentence progresses, the more the words blur. His voice is feeble, hoarse when he gets to the final syllables. When he pauses between his rambling to draw a breath, you hear a heartbreaking shake in his inhale.

And the exhale sounds like a quiet sob.

You turn back immediately, pressing onto the pause button, remote control still in his hand. The credits darken the room as opposed to the movie’s colours before. You see a damp trail along his cheek, eyelashes wet.

Your smile vanishes as you stare a little longer. The blanket falls from your chest into your lap when you lift your arm from under it, hastily drying his tears with your thumbs. Just slightly, he leans into the touch, but his face soon falls, an attempt to hide.

You ask, “What’s wrong?”

Jungkook isn’t embarrassed of tears — you figured this out without him admitting it to you. But he’s embarrassed of the guilt he feels; acknowledging it when he speaks.

“It’d just be nice,” hands holding his face drop; you touch his chest, “to make up with the family like this. They made it look easy.”

You keep looking. Bewildered, unable to answer for seconds too long. You blink until the words sink in properly, incapable of more than, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“No, no,” he argues, shaking his head, “I mean. Who am I to tell you something like this?”

“It’s okay. Your worries are legit worries, too. Look at me,” you reassure, prompting him to meet your gaze. “You’re not a bad person. Okay? It’s… so terrible that you think you are.”

“I fucked up.”

It dawns on you once more that he firmly believes that; causes a searing sting. The process is neither a smooth nor a quick one — you know it’ll take a while for him to convince him otherwise. To drop his current beliefs about himself.

“You didn’t,” you refute, firm certainty and conviction in your voice. “That’s not how a fuck-up is defined, I promise you. And those who are actually wrong probably know, too.”

“It’d just be nice,” he starts again; the shrug of his one shoulder doesn’t distract you from the misery and self-loathing in his eyes, “if he called at least.”

“I know. I don’t know, I… do you think you could call instead?”

Jungkook’s lashes brush his skin, the apples of his cheeks not as round and squishy as usual. Yet, the sadness makes him look younger, softer.

You sigh; a warm blanket isn’t enough anymore. You need to wrap him in the comfort of the world — ideally, in his father’s care.

Jungkook opens his mouth for another argument, but then holds it in, says after another moment of contemplation, “Actually… There’s a gathering coming up. I’ll see my people there, so… I don’t know. Trying won’t hurt, right?”

“It never does.”

His eyes start unfocusing. You recognise it in the way he glues his gaze to a point on the glass table, unblinking, staring nowhere in truth. You keep your attention on him for another second, hoping he’ll look at you, even if forlorn.

But when he doesn’t, you wrap your arms around him instead. His chest is calmer against your head now, breathing as soft as the palms that find your back. He presses you into his body by mere inches; you barely notice.

Your fingers draw shapes on his arm, a subtle consoling gesture. In the background, you hear the song fade, volume lower now. The movie soon transitions to something else; you don’t pay any mind to it, drowsy and distracted in his embrace.

But then your mind wanders; to the man keeping Jungkook’s thoughts hostage. You remember the conversation the two of you had last Sunday. You recall the way your hand held his broken heart together.

You wish it was as easy as a small scar — an echo of whatever once transpired, but also a reminder that it healed.

Then, for a second, you think of your own wounds. How they still need to be cured, too. How years and time alone won’t fix issues; you need to tackle them actively — maybe at some point, the two of you can.

You laugh softly against his shirt, burying between his pecs; joking, “We’re perfect for each other. Dysfunctional families and whatnot.”

His chuckle is still a light tremble, but genuine enough for you to celebrate. His hands push a little harder into your back; your body shifts up his lap, butt half on his thigh. Eyes shut, still sniffling.

Jungkook wraps around you like a soothing force, an invisible bubble. A bandage despite carrying all bruises. You sigh in contentment, head dizzy from exhaustion; waking up just when he blurts a question again.

“You really think that, right? That I’m not a bad person.”

You crack your eyes open a slit.

You understand. Someone who overthinks needs multiple repeated reassurances — you’re the same.

So you nod against him, guaranteeing, “You’re… kind of ridiculously amazing. You’re someone who gives all those people hope who don’t believe in humanity anymore.” Pause. “And I admire you in every way. So much.”

He doesn’t respond. You wait. Further dead silence, interrupted by the soft sounds of the TV. You lick your lower lip, dropping your gaze to where your thumb rubs his wrist. Tracing a vein.

His mellow voice reverberates, a melody to your eardrums when he whispers, “We’d do this so much if you were here all the time.”

“Crying in each other’s arms, huh?”

He clicks his tongue, accompanied by the grin you’re certain graces his face, even if you can’t see. You hear it in his voice all the more, “Sure. Also, have dinner together. Shower and watch movies together. Laugh and cry.”

You smile. “I still can’t believe it, you know? That you want this… and me at all.”

“You feel that, too, yeah?” Fingertips move up your spine, between your shoulder blades and then to the nape of your neck. Tickling, grazing gently. “I promise I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t truly feel all that, though.”

“What’s all that?”

“Just.” His chest rises. Then falls. “Everything.”

One of your heartbeats freezes, you’re sure. And when it comes back alive, you think — maybe he doesn’t need the world’s comfort after all. Or his father’s care. Maybe yours is enough right now.

But then again.

You’d be damned if you kept your traumas intact. Or his. You took each other as you came long ago — as vulnerable human beings, with a whole lot of baggage. With all the injuries on your heart.

Yet, this isn’t a state you want to accept. For neither of you.

Your unwavering belief remains steadfast — that one day, things need to become… okay.

So you gulp down all the pain, lighting a candle in your chest, and say,

“It’s not over yet, baby.”

Zara keeps yelling orders around. Her voice, usually collected and tender, is agitated today. You can barely imagine how many little tasks, how many stressed phone calls must be overrunning her.

You establish a distance between your device and your ear, protecting your hearing with one eye squinting shut. And when she returns to the conversation, you exhale through the nose.

“Sorry. You were asking—”

“How’s it look?” you repeat.

“I mean, everyone’s stressed,” she responds, clearly frustrated; as if it should be obvious to you. And it is; but you’ll spiral, too, if you don’t keep your calm, at least. “A lot to do.”

“You’re sure you don’t need me to come earlier?”

“All good, love. You’re not a manager yet,” she stops her speech to mumble something to another co-worker, imaginary hands jam packed with preparations for the press conference. “But when you are, you won’t know what to do with all the stress.”

“Great outlook into a potential future.”

“I just mean you should enjoy things while they last.”

Zara isn’t the only one wandering up and down the building to assure perfection. She’s only one of the big mentors, managers to handle everything; responsible for the catering and content to be presented at the conference.

Her team stands firmly behind her, but you don’t blame her for still allowing her head to steam. Of all busy people in their blazers and slacks, however, she’s been the only one to spare some time for you.

You’re grateful for her enthusiasm and support. You smile as you ask, “Do you think I can answer everything the way I intend to?”

“I think so.”

“It’s so new to me.”

“Yeah, but you’re a natural at this stuff. And also,” she speaks slower now. The chaos behind her has calmed a little; her voice echoes off somewhere. Perhaps a restroom. “Things are looking good.”

You stop sauntering through the room, pausing in front of the bed’s corner before dropping onto it. Dragging your tongue over your lower lip, you blink, and then ask, “You’re sure?”

“We had a couple conversations over here. Made a few more phone calls, and I think you don’t need to worry about a thing. We’ll come up with something if things derail, though, okay?”

You’re uncertain, still anxious. Should this afternoon flop, you’ll be screwed.

You need it to succeed. You can’t afford misfires. Ugh.

Restless, your foot taps against the floor. You try not to think of things going astray; try to think of a smooth progress, not precarious in any way.

Yet, you ask doubtfully, “Can we do that?”

“We always can. That’s business.”

Guess she’s right. Your mother has saved you one too many times — from stupid things you did as well as from things you never needed saving from.

A rich human being’s power over the media — and frankly, the world — is unbeatable. Barely to be underestimated.

“Okay,” you mutter, “thank you.”

Despite only hearing her voice, you imagine her nod, the way she often does. You miss the warm, promising palm on your shoulder. Appreciate that she’s still here instead of dropping you to the side; leaving the call to handle more relevant issues.

No, she lingers there; you hear her breathe until she asks, “Are you bringing your man, too, by the way?”

Your man.

You straighten your back in pride, bright smile back, “Yeah! He said he’d come and support me. But he’s not home yet.”

“Oh? Well, you gotta be here in three hours. Where’d he go?”

“God knows. But don’t worry about punctuality.” You hear a hum, glancing up at the clock. Past noon. “Hey, also. My parents are definitely gonna come, right?”

“Babe,” she drags the word a little, and you can almost see her side-eyeing you, “journalists will be present. Cameras everywhere. At least your mother would never miss such a thing.”

Right. Cares about that company too much.

You remember the times she proved it to you. When you’d come home from middle school, eating some extravagant lunch while watching her talk on TV. Conversing with your staff.

“Okay. Good,” you say, happy about that very answer for once.

Outside, a door creaks. Steps echo through the hallway, a soft call of your name following as you hear the jingling of keys stop.

He sounds joyful.

You get up, phone halfway off your ear as you say, “Hey, I should go. I think that he—”

And the moment you look at the open door of the bedroom, your heart stops. For a second, you fear an intruder at his apartment, but the longer you look, the more your brain gives out.

The black-white-red jacket hugs his broad shoulders comfortably, the thin white sweater underneath it nearly transparent enough to reveal his tiny nipples. But despite his stature, it’s not his body that kills the power in your head.

It’s the—

You murmur last words into the phone, making out a goodbye that doesn’t reverberate as much anymore. She’s probably out of the restroom again; too distracted to give your mumble any attention anyway.

You place your phone where you previously sat and inhale his appearance carefully.

First off — you can see his ears. Can see most of his eyes. His forehead.

His hair is still dark, but it’s tamed. The wild locks, usually a feature you’ve gotten used to over the span of that one year, lay comfortably on his head. In fact, most of them are gone.

You feel a needle in your chest, but one of the surprising sort. Not painful at all.

“Wow,” you only say.

He reaches to the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing the hair there. “Yeah?”

You move towards his body, eyes fixated on every hair strand. Then, close enough, you state the obvious, “You cut your hair.”

“I… yeah. Is it terrible?” he asks, round eyes meeting yours. He raises his hand again, to his ear this time, scratching behind it for a second. “Not used to it at all. But I figured I’d look a little more serious as an artist like this.”

Really? Most artists you knew cared the least about a fancy appearance.

Then again, Jungkook doesn’t look fancy. He just looks different. Breathtaking, more mature, older.

His cheekbones look more chiselled now, his eyes wider. You could pass out right here, right now, and he still wouldn’t know how relentlessly he affects you.

“More serious?” you ask, less because you need an explanation. More because your mind keeps wandering, and you can’t fathom a word he’s saying.

“Just. Needed a change, I think,” he admits, “and wanted to adjust to a press conference’s typical look, too.”

“You did this for the press conference?”

“I wanted to look put together.”

Your heart dissolves and dissipates. His voice is soft as a petal, tender like the colours on his arm. The expression he sports is unsure, like he wants to hide — waiting for your opinion.

He really put thought into this. Woke up this morning and set a goal with purpose, not uttering a word to you to surprise you a couple hours later.

You don’t know what to say. You barely know what to feel, except this unbearable urge to ramble down every piece of tiny emotion he’s ever made you feel.

You want his body wrapped around you, engulfed in a blanket, head on his chest and slumbering for the rest of your life. Want to mumble little confessions, shiver when his lips touch your scalp.

Overwhelmed — that’s what you are.

“I loved the long hair,” you finally admit, “I guess I got too used to it, so I need to adjust, but. But… this is so… It… it suits you.”

You’re stumbling over your words, suggesting doubt. Not the way to go. Perhaps they shouldn’t have chosen you as one of the press conference speakers after all. 

Jungkook’s concern grows visible in his big, round pupils; expressive, a true glimpse into his heart. You feel bad because you’re not as good with words as he is, and because he seemed so happy about his choice.

You just can’t fucking express yourself — even though you’re melting inside, falling harder. And maybe he notices your awkwardness, because he tries again.

“You’re uh— sure you don’t hate it?”

“No! God, no. It’s different. You look amazing, Kook. You look like…”

He swallows. “Like what?”

“You’re so pretty, Jeon Jungkook.” You say it with genuinity this time. He closes his lips, blinking, and while he attempts to veil his relief, you still see the high rise of his chest. “You look fucking gorgeous, no matter what you do. I… I mean it.”

The answer satisfies him. His risen shoulders drop a little, tension falling off, and he fixes the already perfectly sitting collar of his jacket before he smiles. Just a little, a subtle twitch of the corners of his lips.

As soft as his response, “I always aim to reach your level, you know?”

You roll your eyes. Partly to keep them from watering because your heart is bursting. Splintering like every morning and every night; you wonder if you’ll ever get used to it.

A couple gentle words lie heavy on your tongue, pressing against the muscle to let them out; but at the prospect of actually uttering them, your guts twist. You don’t want to throw up before the meeting.

So you remove the tightness from your chest with a deep exhale, nearly until your lungs are dry, and say, “Shut up.”

Playfully, you deliver a soft push against his chest, laughing when his dramatic ass stumbles backwards. Submerged in those goddamn dimples, you immediately grab the hem of his jacket and before you know it, you’ve taken a step forward and landed in his arms.

You sneak your arms underneath the leather-ish material, not hesitating for a second before you’re squeezing his torso. He lets out a choked sound, groaning, but reacts similarly fast as you.

His heartbeat accelerates for a moment, right against your ear as you make yourself small. The sweater smells like his favourite detergent and him; musky, fresh. Your palms, flat against his back, crave deeper touch.

Nothing crude; just an afternoon on the bed behind you, limbs entwined, laughing about things that probably aren’t that funny anyway.

For a moment, the silence transcends words. You inject the blend of gratitude and affection through your touch, ensuring he understands.

But when it’s not a testament to your emotions enough, you speak against his chest, voice very likely muffled, “You didn’t have to do this for me… you just. You never have to do anything for me, but you still do.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

Immediate and sincere. Voice unwavering.

God, you’re not his strongest soldier.

A smile tugs at your lips, and you chide, "Stop that."

"What?"

"If you keep saying these things," you continue, a frisky lilt in your voice, "I'll die. Do you want me to die?"

Jungkook chuckles. Always a soothing melody in a hushed room. He remarks, grip still wrapped around you securely, "Acting all innocent now."

You don’t understand right away what he means — but then you hear his heartbeat, picking up on pace again.

Makes you want to squash him harder. Melt into him further.

“Shut up, Jeon,” you respond with a nudge, cheek pressed against his shirt. Just a moment longer — just a couple more seconds to inhale the solacing scent.

Your heart is unguarded; he could sever it if he wanted to. He’s proven that he has the power to. Yet, you keep fuelling it, vulnerable in his warmth as you say, “You’ve no clue what you mean to me, Kookie.”

Your vivid imagination might be forcing things upon your mind that aren’t actually there, but you do think you perceive the way his entire body melts. Nearly limp, in a state so relaxed and peaceful that you have only experienced in the mornings before.

Waking him up for work, feeling weightless limbs wrapped around you, passed out.

His fingers trace patterns on your back lightly, stirring from bottom to top and back. They first stop at the small of your back, then lift off your body, hands suddenly on your shoulders.

He pushes you off him, your movements reluctant, and looks at you with profound sincerity. His voice matches his expression, gentle and adoring, “Will you tell me how much I mean to you?”

Amidst the delicate minutes you spend standing between the bedroom and the living room, you almost forget that there’s a world outside. It’s a little more grey than before, similar to the suit you’ll be wearing in a couple hours.

You remember the prospect of an audience, the answers you’ve prepared, to questions they probably will ask. Zara told you they wouldn’t hold back — they’d phrase their inquiries friendly, but still keep the intentions devilish.

Right.

The world is still turning out there. You want it to stop for the two of you — frozen moments. But it can’t, at least not yet. Right now it’s too real; and you guess that the worst part is that in your line of business, it will keep revolving around people like you.

Whether you want it or not.

So maybe, if it truly needs to keep spinning and can’t halt for you, keeping you in the centre, you should give it something to talk about, too.

Something crisp, something new. Without a care for it, but all the care for you and the man in front of you.

Which is why you spare him another fond smile, forehead calm and your demeanour confident — and tell him, “I’ll do my best to let you know."

The audience stretches to the far back. All the rows are filled to the brim with reporters or guests. The shutter of the cameras and the flashing lights are agitating.

You look down.

Nervously tapping your feet on the stage, you shrink into yourself inch by inch. Your seat is uncomfortable, though padded, a little too warm against your ass right now. Zara notices your tick and puts a steady hand to your knee, repeating for the millionth time today, “Stop. It’ll be okay.”

“It’s just dawning on me though, Zara.”

“What is?”

You nod faintly towards the mic and the attendees, tell her, “That I was actually chosen to speak. They shouldn’t have chosen me.”

“You asked for it.”

“Yeah, but there are more important things to discuss.”

Zara’s lips form a circle; she shakes and lowers her head, sending out a beam of air that you feel on your wrist, blazer sleeves rolled up. You’ve been like that all evening.

“You can do it,” she repeats patiently, “you’re the boss’ daughter and they want your opinion. You’ll hit them hard with yours.”

You suck in a breath, leave the air in your cheeks, and then puff it out again. “I want to. I hope to, I just— never thought it’d be this nerve-wracking. Don’t wanna say anything wrong.”

The subtle shake of her head continues — or reemerges —, lips in a thin line, eyes slowly blinking, “Mh-mh. We talked about it, okay? Practised all the questions they could ask. You’ll be good.”

“You gotta promise.”

“As much as I can, babe, it’s up to y—” She takes in your falling face, holding back with a sigh when she sees the dread in your pupils. “I promise. Of course.”

She taps your knee, softly and lightly, and then says, “I’m so curious about everyone’s reactions. Like. Gosh, just look at those people.”

You understand what she means. “I know.”

Zara places a manicured thumb on her matte red lips, mumbling, “Here for entertainment. At least a third of them will add their own fantasies to the articles they’ll write. Hypotheses and manipulative, neutrally phrased thoughts. Cockroaches.”

Funny. That’s what you call them, too. A collective understanding, you see.

But.

“Shhh,” you voice, “they—”

“It’s fine. They know it, too. Like lawyers do.”

Can’t refute. Eun told you one too many times how unfair the law business usually is, and how she’ll strive to not have anyone ever manipulate her. To remain genuine.

“Yeah, but,” you still argue, “I imagined they’d be listening in all the time. Don’t they do lip reading and stuff?”

She nods, a finger still on her mouth, smiling, “Mhm. I also feel like I could say whatever, but it’ll be you they’ll focus on today.”

Your heart drops, an uncomfortable twist in your guts adding to the stress. Might have to dash to the bathroom at the very last minute. You curse, “Shit, Zara… I should fucking ru—”

“Stay. You can do this. I promise.”

“Okay,” you take another deep breath, helping your oxygen-lacking, spinning head, “okay.”

You look back to the media present, ready to survive questions; prepared to provide answers. The moderator is talking to your mother at the front, covering the mic with a hand.

They gave you around five minutes to speak, and in that time, you need to answer everything. How you do it is up to you, but the pressure to perform in a certain way, accordingly, weighs heavily on you.

But it’s alright.

You’ll just need to stay confident. Stick to your message. They’ll have things to say anyway — and you’ll make the best of them.

You stare past the lights, squinting to find him, raking your neck. His figure towers in the back, easy to detect, and once he meets your eyes — or perhaps never having averted his from you — he lifts a hand to wave in tiny motions.

Then, he drops his fingers again, entwining them in front of his body. He isn’t necessarily allowed here, but you were able to sneak him through in advance. So now he’s a couple feet from the wall, choosing to stand rather than sit, so you find him easily.

So you seek his eyes for comfort if need be.

Before you parted near the entrance, he said, “I’ll be offering a dozen thumbs up like a fool if you need me to.”

You chuckled — but maybe he meant it. Because his smile and nod undoubtedly dispel your fears; as if he can see you struggling.

The seconds drag on, and the conference begins seven minutes later. Your mother is the first to talk, outlining a general overview of what’s to come. Of Charmante’s philosophies, of its success, praising the team.

Then, she forwards to important employees like Zara, letting them ramble about launches or ideas in depth. Business strategies, partnerships, bringing across points that you usually don’t get the chance to share.

This is legit press; even though out for a loophole, they won’t follow you around or hide in the shadows. Incessant and vexing, but at least they’re allowed here.

Conversations about new collections, store openings as well as expansions and customer engagement pass in a trice, and at some point, another coworker is uttering last words to a last question.

And you realise — that you’re next.

The moderator introduces you with pride; everyone applauds, smiling at you fondly despite all the controversies. ”Controversies.” Under quote marks, as Zara pointed out, because you never committed an offence.

You stand on weak knees. Trembling when you grip the podium. It’s like the sound in the room fades, a single peeping tone overshadowing all noise. You barely blink anymore; not even the flashy white can shut your eyes.

And god, you can hear your breathing. Your damn heart. Your nose sucks in all the air available in the room, or at least in the building, and then you open your mouth to speak.

a/n: this is not a cliffhanger!! tumblr just doesn't allow to drop looong posts anymore, so here's the rest of the chapter lol, keep reading and enjoying, i love you and will see you on the other side!! and don't forget to support this chapter, folks 🥺 <3

[baby-tini]

Imagine Dabi kidnaps you and he's actually really sweet. Besides the kidnapping, he could be actual boyfriend/husband material. Like he hasn't hurt you physically and it kind of fucks with your head a bit. He provides everything you need to live plus more. And you don't have to worry about surviving anymore. Since you were kidnapped dare you say more relaxed than ever. So, you put up with it and eventually develop Stockholm syndrome fr.

I don't think this was a request BUT I genuinely can't stop thinking about this, I love when he's so soft.

You despised him at first when he took you away, but it got better, Dabi told you it would. He told you that if you behaved that he would take care of you, treat you like a princess. Dabi truly loved you, he just wanted you to understand that and he would do anything to make you understand. It took a little while with punishments here and there but it worked. When he came home, you were there to greet him with open arms. Telling him how much you missed him, kissing him, nuzzling into his chest. Dabi could truly say, that for once in his life he truly felt happy, at peace... like he finally was enough for someone.

It felt.. nice, to be around Dabi, he was comforting in a way. Brushed your hair for you, braided it, let you sit with him on the balcony as he smoked. It was nice to just sit and talk about things with him, smelling the mid-night air as you leaned against his chest. He smelled nice, the smell of cigarettes now becoming a comfort, the sick smell of ash that had you wrinkling your nose now had you clinging to him, shoving your nose into his jacket. Dabi truly became someone of comfort for you, holding you close on cold nights. Kissing your head when the thunder sounded too loud on some nights.

You don't remember falling asleep, but then again, no one does. His side of the bed was warm though, so that had too mean he was home now, throwing the comforter off you go looking for him, and sure enough, he was out on the balcony, smoking. He truly looked ethereal, his eyes relaxed, shining a beautiful cerulean, head thrown back, dyed black hair a little tousled from scarred hands running through it. Dabi truly is a sight to behold.

Opening the sliding door, he looks up at you as you step out, closing it behind you so that bugs don't get it. He wraps an arm around you as you walk towards him, plopping down into his lap as blows the smoke away from you. "How you feeling doll, you sleep good?" There's a nod from you as you bury your face into his chest, inhaling that sweet smell of ash you've come to adore so much. The smell always makes you think of him, an automatic comfort it brings you is a stress-relief.

"How was work," you ask him softly, running your hands through his hair. He inhales through his nose before sighing, "It was fine, tiring, but fine." You can tell, he sounds exhausted, looks exhausted too. You kiss him, running your hands up and down the nape of his neck, he shudders at that, pecking your cheek. His right hand running up and down your back, drawing little patterns every now and again.

"...can I hit it," he glances at you, then looks at the cigarette, the tip burning a bright blue. He hums at you, holding it to your lips as you inhale the smoke. Holding it for a couple seconds, you blow it out away from his face. He pushes some of your hair behind you ear, mouthing at your neck. "You feel better pretty girl, hm?" His voice is always a welcome, low and deep, sounding so apathetically pretty.

"Yeah, thank you," he hums again, kissing at your collar bone as he runs a hand through your hair. He kisses your cheek before giving a couple pats to your ass, "come on, up, I'm tired doll, lets head in."

[babyjakes]

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event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | knotting

pairing | alpha!steve rogers x omega!reader

warnings | omegaverse elements: knotting, mating press, breeding (and me not knowing like anything about the omegaverse.) unprotected p in v. clit rubbing. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. crying kink. breeding kink (like fr he wants her pregnant lol.) he comes in her. some brief aftercare. alpha!steve is so hot and powerful it's ruining my life.

word count | 859

an | i've wanted to write something substantial for an omegaverse au for sooo long but i've just been so hesitant to bc i don't feel super well-versed in the genre. shoutout to @starksbabie, ao3, and my google images search for teaching me everything i know about knotting LOL. and @brandycranby for teaching me about the mating press lol. if i got anything wrong, please let me know!!

imagine being alpha!steve's prized omega and mate, being fucked and bred by him during your heat 🤤 (nomad!steve is what comes to mind first, but i've also had a soft spot for endgame look for the longest time, so i'll let you take your pick 😉)

steve's the kind of alpha that doesn't let you lift a single finger (in or out of heat); everything's always done for you because duh!! you're his baby!! this is especially true when it comes to sex during your heat. your only job is to be pleasured and bred. your alpha will do everything for you, no need to worry your pretty little head 💕

thinking about him spreading you out on your back, bringing your bottom up to the edge of the bed so he can stand over you and pound into you as you lay there and take it. he gets you nice and comfy, laying a blanket down beneath you and positioning a pillow under your head to make it easier for you to look up and keep eye contact. of course, he knows you'll spend much of the ordeal with your eyes closed or rolled back in bliss 😏

the number one thing you crave during your heat is the feeling of being filled up, and by now steve's fucked you enough to make you crave being filled by him specifically. he's massive, even for an alpha. long, thick, and unbelievably powerful. because of his overwhelming size and strength, he has to maintain a good balance of fucking you hard enough to satisfy you both, but not too hard to prevent injury

the look on his face as he's ramming into you is a mixture of such pure love and authority. he absolutely talks you through it 😔🙏 you're so overcome with pleasure, he understands it's hard for you to do much talking back

sliding in and out of you at a steady speed, watching as your face is washed over with relief as you finally get what you need. "there you go, honey," smiling as he sees your tummy trembling as it's filled up, "gonna keep fucking this pretty little pussy, just keep being my good girl and taking it. let me give you what you need, doll"

bringing his thumb up to swipe over your quivering clit, always a little eager and impatient with how much he loves to see you come. crooning as you whine and wriggle at the burning feeling he's creating, "i know, baby. i know- so sensitive there, aren't you? look at this pretty little clit. so needy for me"

"nng... n-nnn," he loves the soft, weak little noises you're making. and he loves it even more as they gradually grow louder and more desperate, signaling your building climax

he's working his thumb quicker over your slick button to help keep the pressure rising, "c'mon baby, almost there. you gonna come for me? let's see if we rub a little faster-... oh-" he gasps almost mockingly with a smug smile, praising you heavily as you clench down on his swollen length

and god he could never get tired of seeing you coming. watching as your little face scrunches, your toes curling up in delight, your tummy spasming helplessly as you stammer through a string of angelic, breathy whimpers

"goood, so good for me, baby. keep coming for me, that's it," he draws out his words as you're coming down from your first high. your big, watery eyes and soft little squeaks, paired with having just seen you come, and knowing how sensitive and overstimulated you feel now?? it all makes steve's eyes burn as the heat and primal urges within him rise

it doesn't take long for him to near the edge himself. his large hands come down to manhandle you into position, grabbing under your thighs to force them up, your feet splaying out in the air as he leans himself down over you, his speed and forcefulness bringing tears to your eyes

"gonna come, sweetheart. you want me to fill you up? wanna carry my pups in that pretty little tummy of yours? come on, baby-... shit, that's it-.. f-fuck-"

the feeling of his base rounding out inside you has you crying out weakly, your entire body bracing as you feel the pressure in your core reaching its limit. as the heavy band snaps, your poor, helpless form seizes and spasms beneath your alpha. steve's heavy load shoots into you, the tight mass bulging just inside your entrance locking him inside, forcing you to take what you're given

seconds feel like hours. eventually everything fades to soft tingles as the silence is filled by your and steve's heavy breathing. as soon as he's able, he's shifting so delicately hold you against him, his thick knot still pulsing inside you hard enough to let you feel his heartbeat. "shhh, shhh," he's wiping away the tears that escaped down your cheeks, letting you rest your face in the crook of his neck to breathe in his familiar scent. "i got you, doll. just rest now. close your eyes, i'll take care of you"

[rubra-wav]

May I Request a part 2 to Dealbreaker!Reader (same characters) but it’s the characters reactions to the reader surprisingly breaking their deal? I loved what you wrote!

Angel, Husk and Alastor with a dealbreaker S/O pt. 2

[ Part 1 ] < > [ More lore on DBs ]

A/N Thank you so much, I'm glad you liked it, I loved writing this and the last one. Dealbreaker lore brainrot fr.

With how dealbreaking usually goes, it's not instantly a happy ending, unfortunately. These are all pretty happy endings, though.

Fairly long reads for all of these, but it's worth it, I promise 🙏

!(MY REQUESTS ARE NOT OPEN RN. THIS IS JUST LEFT OVER FROM WHEN THEY LAST WERE.)!

Cw: SFW, depictions of violence, mentions of murder, Husk and Angel's is romantic, Alastor's is platonic, gn reader, male reader in mind for Angel's (forgot to add this aaaages back omg)

**Alastor's is written under the assumption that the Lilith owning his soul theory is real + is making a great big assumptions about Lilith + the nature of her deal that will likely be disproven.

She's a great big mystery, I'm just heavily leaning into pure theory in that one.

Angel

- When you break his contract, Angel is overwhelmed with a potent mixture of relief and gratitude.

- The path this far had been fairly easy as far as the process of actually breaking the contract goes.

- The chains on him were poorly crafted and the format was extremely simple with a lot of loopholes to bust the contract wide open.

- It was honestly much harder to fully knock Angel out of the all-encompassing fear-rooted belief that he was doing something incredibly wrong after years of Val's manipulation and control over every part of him.

- It didn't take long to make the counter-contract, just a few minutes referencing the draft as you quickly wrote everything down upon the page pressed against the filthy bench you were sitting at. Angel hovered over you anxiously wringing his hands as he watched you work.

- The lock on his prison cell was quickly broken, along with the actual collar around his neck.

- You cheered as you threw your arms around the disbelieving man next to you. Angel cracked a smile, giddy as he realised that you had done it.

- This peace was short-lived, however.

- You now had to deal with the consequences of actually breaking Angel's deal. Valentino does not take kindly to people taking his toys away from him, especially not one of his top money-makers and favourite souls.

- You had, of course, crafted the counter-contract that was now clutched in your palm in some random location far away from the hotel so Val wouldn't be knocking at the front door knowing it was done then and there.

- However, you two still needed to run.

- Hand in hand, you run away from the approaching sound of distant but loudly approaching cars with the sound of gunshots echoing, legs and lungs burning with exertion.

- As a contrast to your very evident worry, Angel is laughing joyously and more boisterously then he thinks he ever has as the feeling of the heavy sensation of the collar that has been weighing on him is lifts alongside the inability to speak his real name without choking on it.

- The feeling of his newfound freedom and adrenaline mixes in his body, making his blood sing out in his veins like a symphony. An indescribably rich sensation of being alive that he thought he'd never be able to feel again while sober.

- "So long, you overly tall rat bastard! I've found something that's better then anything you could ever fucking give me!" Angel yells out into the warm air of the night as he flips off the general direction of the sound of the gunshots, laughing all the way as you get to the getaway car.

- You're panting as you crank the car into gear, speeding away and putting the glowing counter-contract on the back seat.

- As the distant sounds of gunshots fades into the distance behind you, you turn to the passenger side of the car to make absolutely sure Angel is really okay as he calms down from the high of the chase.

- Your boyfriend is absolutely beaming next to you, glowing with a sense of natural light you'd never before seen in your time being together. It's a beautiful contrast to the artificial sense of life you are so used to seeing broadcast within the studio and his films.

- He looks so different, and not only due to the disguise he had decided upon to lay low until shit calmed down a bit.

- As you make it to your destination - a small house youd been allowed to stay at courtesy of Charlie - you put the car into park and sit there for a for a few seconds.

- "Holy shit. I did it. I actually freed you. And we're not dead." You said, stunned.

- Angel snickered, unbuckling his seat belt and leaning over to you to kiss you on the cheek. "Never doubted you for a second, baby."

- You laugh, relieved, turning to him and gently pull his face close to yours, kissing him deeply. You chuckle at the feeling of the giant smile on Angel's face.

- As you move to settle in to live in the small house for a couple of weeks, you regret turning on the television.

- Angel's face flashes across the screen with text quickly scrolling past a smiling but seemingly close to tweaking Vox on the screen, the man looking like he's about to absolutely lose his shit if one more mild inconvenience happens. The Video Star's eye twitches sightly as if hearing something irritating as he speaks.

- "There is a hefty reward for anyone who can find Angel Dust and the dealbreaker who has interfered with his contract. Any useful information will be welcome. To give us tips, go to the website listed below or call-" You switch the TV off, unplugging it as well just in case.

- If Vox got well and truly involved in this situation to attempt to placate Valentino as soon as possible, this would be even more difficult of a situation. You hadn't much considered the rest of the vees getting involved, assuming they would stsy in their own lanes while Valentino stopped being pissy.

- You shake your head, and move to go to the room where Angel is unpacking. The outside world could wait until later. All that shit could wait until later.

- Angel smiles at you as you walk into the room, such a lightness in it that makes your heart burn.

- You hug him tightly and then fall down on your side into the bed, both of you laughing joyously and filling the empty house with life.

- The road ahead would not be easy, but you were finally on the road to starting your life with him.

- Your life with him as Anothony, not Angel Dust.

Husk

- The road to forming a counter-contract was hard as all hell.

- Alastor's deals are absolutely air tight, crafted with the uptmost skill and attention to detail, so you finding a vague clause to dig your claws into to get it rolling after weeks of arduously reviewing it again and again was a goddamn miracle.

- When he saw that you had made progress, he's shocked as can be. Has a 'well I'll be' moment as you point it out to him after another sleepless night as he wanders up to you.

- Feels bad for fully doubting you after that. He's still pessimistic about your chances of actually succeeding in the counter-contract, but the flame of hope inside of him sparks to embers as you manage to do what nobody has managed to even remotely succeed to do in centuries.

- When you make further progress, he becomes deeply afraid for your safety. If Alastor ever found out you'd been able to get this far, you'd be toast.

- Never in a million years would Alastor allow someone who's managed to undermine his skills to this degree to live. When you say that you've got it covered when he brings it up, he's incredibly skeptical and is even more concerned when you say you can't tell him 'just in case'.

- Is in utter disbelief when you insist you just stay in the hotel as you actually write the counter-contract to break the deal while Alastor is out doing some shenanigans.

- When you say that you don't, in fact, have a death wish, he's extremely stressed and sweating bullets as you begin to write what you'd been drafting for weeks.

- The lights flash and then go out as you're about halfway through writing the contract. Unnatural green light fills the room and Alastor casts a great big shadow on the wall as he materialises out of nowhere.

- Husk feels dread sink into every part of himself.

- The ground shakes as Alastor physically shows up, much larger then usual and snarling. "What do you think you're doing."

- His voice is dripping with malice and static which hurts your ears greatly, but the movement of your pen on the page doesn't stop even though you can feel your heart thudding in terror and your vision is becoming blurry.

- Husk feels nauseous as Alastor looks down at you, growing all the more aggressive the more he feels his hold on Husk slipping.

- Husk fights a panicked yell as Alastor's neck snaps to the side loudly, now looking directly at him with an absolutely vile grin on his face. He cannot make it in time as Alastor's hand moves to crush you, and he fears the absolute worst as you are no longer in his sights.

- His deep despair is interrupted however, as from underneath Alastor's palm great big rose briers grow from underneath and pry it backwards, revealing you still writing - albeit looking extremely stressed - and the figure of Rosie who looks rather angry at Al.

- Alastor's eyes widen in shock and disbelief that one of his oldest friends are currently blocking him from destroying the one trying to take his property.

- Husk hardly hears the back and forth and stalling that goes on between the two overlords as he's running to you to try and pull you the hell out of here.

- He stops in place as he feels it, and hears Alastor let out a terrifying frustrated growling noise. The green collar and chain around his throat appears, and then it breaks with a loud snapping sound. You've succeeded.

- You actually fucking did it.

- The next few moment are a blur as Husk is rendered motionless and speechless, eyes wide and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as if he's about to wake up from this moment.

- He slowly walks towards you, looking to the side blankly as Alastor shrinks back to his normal size and is escorted out of the hotel with a look of pure bewilderment on his face by a now smiling and laughing Rosie. The leader of the cannibals winks at you and gives you a thumbs up as she leaves.

- You turn to Husk and grin at him wearily, still sweating nervously with clear relief on your face. You literally could have just died.

- Husk sinks to his knees beside you from where you sit on the ground, having fallen from your chair as Alastor tried to crush you.

- Husk grips your face in his shaking hands as he looks up at you. He can now see that one of your eyes is black with a deal you've made yourself but for now he doesn't address it.

- "Thank you." His voice is hoarse, low. Tears stream down his face for the first time in a long long time.

- Your face crumples as you allow your brave face to fall to bits. Your heart is still racing and you are still getting over the fear you felt.

- Husk pulls your crying face to his, leaning his forehead against yours as he wraps his arms tightly around you. "Thank you so much." Husk says, closing his eyes and causing more tears to roll down his cheeks.

- "If you ever do something that fucking stupid again, I'll not be humouring you." He added after the wonderful moment stretched out for a couple of seconds.

- You laugh softly, and nuzzle into his cheek as you kiss it. "You're welcome, Husker my love."

- Husk hums in fake annoyance, but he cannot even hide how much lighter he feels.

- The bonds which had kept him trapped for decades had been broken down all at once, leaving him free.

- He had no idea what kind of deal you made with Rosie, but he sure hoped it kept Alastor the fuck away from you and him for the rest of your lives.

- And, for your sake, he desperately hopes it is not the type of deal you will regret making later.

Alastor

- The path to dealbreaking Alastor's is bar fucking none with difficulty, mostly because he doesn't want your help.

- Hurts his his ego so much to see that even though his consistent efforts to tell you to get lost have failed. He's opted to scaring you off multiple times and yet you're still relentless.

- After yet another time of him growing into that massive form and snarling down at you, you snap.

- "Maybe I'm 'overestimating my abilities', but what if I'm not? What if a fresh pair of eyes are what you need rather than you just pissing off to your radio tower and staring at everything until you have a mental breakdown over it!" You yell at him weakly as he turns his back to leave. Blood is dripping from the corner of your mouth, and you're only just regaining your vision from the former static, which blacked it out.

- Alastor stops in his tracks, startled that you know about that too.

- "Maybe I don't have as much experience as you, but I have a different mind and way of looking at things! What if that's exactly why you can't break it? What if whoever it is knows how you think so they've designed this thing so you can't do this alone?"

- You can't see Alastor's face, but he's standing there still not saying anything. One of his ears is pointed backwards in your direction. He's actually listening.

- You gulp, and stand up shakily. "What if they knew that you would never seek assistance, so they've done things which won't be visible to you and only you. If you just give me a chance." You're no longer shouting, rather speaking in a tone you're trying to keep even despite how afraid you are.

- Alastor grits his teeth, ears twitching as he considers it. He's pissed off because you're actually making a good point.

- It goes against every instinct in his body, but suddenly, he's right in front of you, holding out his hand to you as he glares menacingly at you. "A week, and if you find nothing, you will never fucking approach this with me again, or share what you have seen and heard about my deal with anybody."

- You gulp audibly. It's a ridiculously slim deadline for this kind of business, but it's more than nothing. As you accept the deal, he utters a single word you're shocked to hear.

- "Lilith."

- Without any further words, he disappears, leaving a glowing copy of the contract at your feet.

- The week of reviewing the contract was utter fucking hell.

- it's not just that the contract was super air tight, it's just that it was so ridiculously complicated and hard to understand that you could hardly fucking comprehend what you were reading most of the time. It was utterly maddening.

- Your breakthrough, however, came not through solely just reading the words, but from actually talking to Lucifer himself about Lilith when he came to visit the hotel while Alastor left.

- As per the deal, you didn't share anything about the contract, but you did ask about her in private with him and he was actually surprisingly happy to discuss her.

- So that's, how on the last day of the deadline, you cracked the contract wide open with a counter-contract draft you had written in a few hours.

- Alastor almost screams out in pure unadulterated fury when he sees what you've written and hears the explanation behind it.

- Lilith wasn't some skilled dealmaker hellbent on controlling demons. She was a broken down dreamer who had no idea what she was actually doing in the contract, but being Lilith, her words held so much weight that they'd chained him despite that.

- It actually takes every bone in your body to not burst out laughing with how utterly humiliated he looks.

- His ears are pressed forward on his head, and he's making an odd high-pitched audio feedback kind of sound as his face is hidden in his hands.

- He'd been stressing over this thing for years as a skilled dealmaker looking at it, and yet that was exactly why he couldn't do it.

- Couldn't do what you did in a fucking week.

- "So, do you want me to undo this thing now or-?"

- You startle as suddenly he's in front of you, both hands on either one of your shoulders.

- you try so hard to not snicker as you see his expression finally, but fail. He's pressing his still ever-smiling mouth into a crooked line, eyes squeezed shut and brow furrowed. Dark flush covers his cheeks and neck.

- "Yes. Please." He says those words as if they are poison in his mouth. "I'm.. Sorry. That I underestimated you." Alastor opens his eyes to look at you as he begins to regain his composure a bit more, the hard part of this interaction being over with.

- Fortunately, and also infuriatingly, Alastor had not had his soul contract used once. Lilith simply had him in her back pocket and didn't lift a finger whenever she felt him try to break it again and again. It's like she didn't even give a fuck that she literally owned him.

- This fact burnt hot embarrassment and frustration into him as it destroyed his ego, but now it was a relief as she would most likely not try and come after him. Or you for that matter.

- His claws grip painfully into your shoulders as you fail to stop snickering loudly in disbelief that he actually apologised. Admitted losing essentially.

- "S-sorry! I just can't believe I'm seeing you like this." You apologised.

- Alastor gritted his teeth. "Don't get used to it." He growls before his mask slips right back on like it never happened. "I'm simply admitting my mistake in assuming you could not do this, darling! It turns out you truly can't teach an old dog new tricks. Or deer, in this case." He clears his throat, straightening up.

- You smile up at him, heavy bags under your eyes from where you've barely slept for the past week pouring over this.

- "If it makes you feel any better, it makes sense why you couldn't solve this thing. It's utter bullshit nonsense." You shake your head at the contract.

- The deal was undone embarrassingly quickly after that using the draft you had written. No pushback at all on it.

- Alastor feels his collar slacken and break to bits as you write the counter-contract and sighs with extreme relief as he watches the other contract disintegrate, feeling the power which had been stolen coming back as it turns to dust. It doesn't cure the utter humiliation that still sits heavy upon his shoulders however.

- After everything, he would threaten to kill you if you tell anyone about what went on or how he had fallen apart. Though, it would be a lie to say you two don't grow significantly closer.

- Alastor is still hesitant to fully let his guard down around you, however the massive wake that existed between you two even as fairly good friends has now significantly closed.

- He's still a lying, scheming asshole, but he'll be much more inclined to not be so much with you considering you've kept multiple giant blows to his ego fully secret.

This was a lot longer than what I usually write for requests holy moly, but I absolutely loved writing these. I hope I fulfilled your vision anon 🙏

You get through Angel's and Husk's, which are really emotional and sweet, then you get to Alastor's 💀

Masterlist

[cvnt4him]

i would request monoma x reader bc I'm literally going crazy about him but idk-- OMG NVM MONOMA X KIND/SOFT READER

BITCH ME TOO WHEN I TELL YOU HE FR GOT ME FOAMING OUT THE MOUTH LIKE IM A RABID ASS DOGGGG.

You know you wrong as hell for that picture tho.. bc why he look so goofy, bones js doing my man wrong this season😞

...........................................

*˖°My heart.°˖*

...........................................

"I don't get what you even see in him, my love."

Mina scolds as she finishes crocheting your last butterfly loc into your hair.

It was 4 AM, you both had school in a couple hours and she had been doing your hair since 12 o'clock. Your head was pounding and was going to be throbbing for the next week. You can only imagine how bad it'll be once you put your hair into a ponytail...

You sigh from relief knowing that was the last braid you had to endure. She puts muse all over your hair, the soft yet cold air like foam covering your hair as she gently slides her hands down each braid costing it in the pleasant and calming scented hair applicator.

You stand and stretch deciding to just put your bonnet on without putting your hair up so you can just head straight to bed, not that you'd get much sleep since school started in like what less than an hour and a half? What's the point in even trying to sleep.

"he makes me laugh. he's a gentleman, he--"

"gentleman my ass."

She cuts you off with a scoff straightening up all of the things she used to do your hair, putting them away and washing the icky foam texture off of her hands.

"okay first of all, don't you ever in your life; he's a sweetheart, really he is. and I don't need you questioning my choices, you're like a sister to me so please for the love of God just fucking trust my choices for once, yeah?"

She hums and rolls her eyes putting her bonnet on and getting under her leopard printed covers. She sighs and wishes you a good night as you leave and head back to your dorm.

All you could think about while getting ready for school was how rude mina was. Sure he was quite unpleasant to your classmates but he's a sweet guy to you!! Well no.. he's just less of an asshole. You noticed that Everytime he would say some smartsss remark to your peers he wouldn't say anything even remotely bad to you. He wouldn't even look at you. It's like there was something about you that just made him go silent.

The way you looked at him however, that was a game changer. He would get all stuttery over his words and just get flustered to the point he'd live without kendo needing to assist. (Knocking his hardheaded ass out)

You figured he had a crush on you which you were completely alright with due to you reciprocating his feelings! He was so beautiful and rather charming in his own way. He was distinguished and quite dashing!!!

You had no idea how people could just say such mean things to him!!

You finish off your look with a silver necklace that makes everything pop so beautifully. Your many rings matching indefinitely. You wore a white turtle neck and a pastel pink plaid skirt with white opaque tights on underneath. Baby pink Mary Jane's accompanying your soft aesthetic.

Being in college was fun for you, the party's the sleepovers the random socks on other people's dorm handles. It was an interesting experience, one of the greatest parts about it was how you could wear whatever you wanted! No dress code, no uniforms just your own unique style!

You walked with a sway to your hips as you made it to your class, to your surprise seeing how there were different students there than normal.

You look around and see groans and laughter coming from somewhere, you turn your head out the classroom door to see some of your friend and peers angry and uncomfortable whilst a manically laughing monoma boasts about something.

Mina sees you and lights up nodding her head in monomas direction telling you in girl talk or whatever the fuck to "get your fucking man before I have kirishima walk him like a damn dog."Her eyes saying more than enough.

You chuckle which catches others attention, including monomas. He turns with a raised brow to see you, his eyes widening and a pinky tint slightly becoming visible on his features.

"hello, neito."

He clears his throat and turns to you dusting off his outfit and giving you a small grin looking to the ground, unable to hold eye contact.

"hi y/- ahem. Y/n."

His voice cracked whilst he tried saying your name instantly making him get flustered and asking a loud and entertained kirishima have a belly laugh.

Monomas turns to them and instantly shouts at them calling them "Imbeciles" and "incompetent losers" and such, the way he spoke with such sophisticated mannerisms was just amusing to you, even while arguing and being angry with people he disliked he still manages to not use foul language and be somewhat civilized. It's quite neat.

You giggle catching his attention again, he turns to you and bows his head lightly with a smile as an apology.

"what are you up to, neito?"

You ask with a tilt to your head.

"who me?! I- uhm-- y'know the usual, classes are just taking over my brain at the moment, haha!"

He jokes, making you giggle again. God you were so cute to him, the way you innocently giggled or laughed at anything, the way you dressed to adorably like an innocent little girl was oddly compelling to him.

"i see you've gotten your hair done. It looks very nice, y/n."

He says to you nodding his head to your hair, the way you had little sparkles raying off of it and how you had little star shaped clips in your locs just completes your outfit.

"awh thank you neito!! You're so sweet!"

You jump into his arms with a hug, snuggling your nose into his shirt. He blushed intensively, getting stiff and tense underneath your touch. You did such foul things to him, making him flustered and blushy like this. He never felt this way for anyone, he always wanted to be a hero and show everyone that he was just as capable of doing things his former class rivals could.

He slowly wrapped his arms around your shorter figure leaning his head down and resting it on your head, his nose burying itself into your locs and smelling the sweet smell radiating off of them.

It was an unfamiliar smell to him, yet it was so intoxicatingly sweet. Like he'd smelled it before, or like it was just something he couldn't resist. A smell he was sure he wanted to take over his senses all the time. For the rest of his life even.

The hug lasted quite some time, an angry kirishima faux clearing his throat to end the long hug. Mina rolled her eyes and nudged him, she didn't like monoma really, but if you had then she'd just have to thug that shit out. For your sake.

You pulled away first, having monoma realize where he was, which was not in a perfect mansion with a beautiful rose garden, white picket fence, and a golden retriever running around with happy and cheerful barks.

He looks down at you ass you peer up at him with beautiful eyes, the way they shine so brightly even without sunlight raying into them, the way you bat your eyelashes at him and smile innocently.

He blushed while staring deep into your eyes. Fuck he'd just imagined a whole entire life with you, making you his wife and you have his kids.

You were evil and putting him under your spell. Your evil, wicked, enchanting, perfect, beautiful, absolutely breathtaking spell. Wait what?!

He got flushed and hid his face with his hand as he looked away, his other hand still on your waist.

You put one of your hands on his neck causing him to snap his neck to look right back to your face. You look down at his chest and rub your other hand up and down it and slowly look back up to him. You smile and move your hand that was once in his neck to his flushed cheek.

He wss going to kiss you. Fuck he was actually going to kiss you, finally, after having a huge crush on you for all these years you were going to kiss him. He'd finally make you his!

"AHEM. So yeah uh, we have to get to class, right y/n? Wouldn't want kids to catch you guys Frenching in the middle of the hallway while classes are in right? Right?"

Kirishima interrupts, making up an excuse to get you away from him.

Mina face palms herself while pulling kirishima away from the two of you. Monoma watching while he gives kirishima an evil, shit eating grin. Kirishima was practically foaming out of the mouth like a raccoon with rabies.

You simply giggle before letting him go. No no no, that's not what was supposed to happen! Why'd you let him go?!

"he's right, we should get to class."

You say quietly, never taking a step back still being rather close to him, peering up at him with wide eyes and offering him a smile.

He sighs and looks away. He was extremely disappointed. Why'd that shitty shark toothed fucker have to get in his way? You were finally going to kiss him.

"but, we can hang out later, if you'd like."

"yes!-- I uhm.. yes, I would like that, if you would."

He answers quickly, before stumbling on his words and saving himself from eternal embarrassment, not that toud ever make fun of him. He was cute, and flushy. Most people didn't get to see him like that not even kendo. You were honored and wnsted to spend more time with him. So you agreed. The two do you made plans and agreed to meet and have lunch, he'd take you to see a movie and you'd go out on dinner dates.

He had so many plans for the two of you. And once you start dating you better believe you're not allowed to be around anyone without him, not that he's jealous.. he's jealous. He's so jealous, he hates anyone that's not him being in your presence. He loves you! More than anything and anyone.

He holds you with grace, being so gentle with you throughout everything. Making sure you don't have tod I anything, not lift a single finger. He holds you tight at night making you feel safe and warm. He loves matching with you, and eating with you, and doing anything to ensure everyone knows you're his. He isn't insecure or anything but he's not oblivious to the rather hot people that swarm your school. He has a hard time reassuring himself that you only have eyes for him!

You're so kind and nice to everyone it's hard to believe you're his girlfriend. Seriously, no one believes you two, but you are. You're his and he's yours. No doubt about it, he'd choose you over the world.

He loves showing you off, boasting and bragging about how cute you are, how you're his girlfriend and how no one can ever even compare to you. How your skin glows in the sunlight without any help. How you're so strong and are better than anyone who ever existed. You can be a bit of an airhead at times, he even teases you about it, but let someone dare say some shit about you, he's ready to throw words. Something tells me hes not the best at hand to hand combat..

Anyways, he loves you dearly, he makes sure to tell you constantly. He doesn't want you feeling like you're less than perfect. He has standard, rather high ones too, and you meet them to a tee.

...........................................

AN: this is x black!reader bc I js got my hair done and I've become kinda obsessed w him so. Yeah!!! I'm definitely making more monoma and tenya content bc they've recently been clouding my head. Anyways love laugh love monoma!!!

This is kind of all over the place so come back later for more and much better content including him.

[latenightdaydreams]

Oh my goodness I was reading your Konig kink list and it makes me think of sunny Konig... Is so excited for his girl and will do anything she asks. Wants her to hit him and use him like a big dildo and he just thanks her??? Wild. Absolutely wild. That kink list is so accurate fr. Anyways- enjoy some water and some good food. :D

Thank you!! 🥰

Sunny!König x Dom!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

For more click here!

>cw: fem/afab, consensual hitting (fem hitting masc), dirty talk, p in v, oral, shaming, sub/dom

1.2k word count

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You walk into the bedroom wearing nothing but red lipstick. Your eyes landing on König as he sits on the bed reading a book. His pale eyes meeting yours over the edge of his book, his eyes slowly dropping as he lets the book fall from his palm. His jaw drops seeing your perfect body on full display for him to see.

“Mein Gott…” He slowly gets off the bed and begins to walk to you, the erection in his pants growing by the second. He holds his hands out to grab you when you hit his hands away.

“On your knees, now.” You demand of him.

Without hesitation König drops to his knees. He looks up at you with lovey eyes as you look down at him with a firm gaze. His eyes travel down to your breast that tease him being to close to his face, he can smell your sweet natural musk and he just wants to sink his face into them.

You grab his chin harshly to make him look into your eyes, “Look into my eyes, not at my breast.”

“I’m sorry Liebling-” König is cut off with a hard slap across his face. A stinging sensation turning into a heat as he can feel that you left a mark. He looked back to your eyes with the sweetest smile on his face. His eyes looking back and forth between yours.

“I had a stressful day today, König.” You caress his face and run your fingers along his stubbly jawline.

“How can I make your day better Schatz?” He leans into your hand on his face.

“I need…relief.” Your fingers glide to under his chin and hold his face again.

“Please, let me give that to you.” He looks at you with the sweetest puppy eyes. “Use me, please.”

“Do you love me?”

“I love you so much,” he says with pure honest love and devotion in his eyes.

“I love you too,” your hand runs over the red mark on his check before raising your hand and slapping him again. König lets out a soft moan.

“Stand up and take your clothes off,” you say walking past him to the bed. You sit on the edge with one leg crossed over the other as you watch König undress. You watch the way he moves eagerly, grasping at the hem of his shirt and flinging it off. The way his muscles flex with every movement. He’s beautiful and he’s yours.

Dropping his boxers to his ankles, he steps out of them and walks to you. His cock fully erect and slightly bouncing as he walked to you. His large hand comes down and gently grasp the base.

You stand from the bed and point down to it, “lay down.” You watch his large body move on to the bed and rest his head against the pillows and looked over at you. His eyes trailing down your body before meeting your eyes again.

You climb on to the bed and crawl to him, lifting one leg over his body to straddle him. His cock resting up towards his belly button, you reach down and stand it upright. König lays there and just watches as you slowly impale yourself on him, knowing not to touch you. His fingers grasp the bed sheets tightly as you slowly begin to bounce on his cock. Your tight pussy wrapping so nicely around his cock König can’t help but to let out tiny moans. His eyes glued to the way you your labia stretches and hugs him with every bounce.

“Whose fucking cock is this?” You ask in a demanding voice laced to pleasure.

“Yours,” König whimpers in response as you continue to bounce on his cock.

Your dominant hand comes swinging down to slap his face before gripping it harshly, “I said whose fucking cock is this?”

“It’s yours, Meisterin.” König corrects himself.

“Good boy,” you press your hand into his face and shove his head back into the pillows. Slowly you move your hand down his face and neck to his chest as you begin to drag your nails along his chest; you watch as red streaks appear on his pale skin. Your sopping wet cunt making a loud gushing sound the fills the room with the sound of your moans mixing with König’s.

Your bouncing turns into grinding as you lean in and begin to kiss down his body, leaving red lipstick marks behind with every kiss. You bite on his nipples causing König to whimper in pain. You continue to kiss all over, biting occasionally.

Suddenly you stop moving and stand, König’s glossy cock falling back on to his stomach as he looks up at you. You lower yourself on to his face and hoover just above him, “Stick your tongue out.” You grab a fistful of hair with one hand. He quickly follows your commands and sticks his fat tongue out for you. Lowering your hips, you begin to grind your pussy back and forth over his face. König in absolute bliss as he breaths in your arousal and finally gets to taste you. His hands shaking by his side wanting to hold you, feel your soft thighs, desperately.

“My pussy taste good to you baby?” You moan out as your grip on his hair tightens.

“Mmmhm.” König tries to answer you with his mouth full of your cunt.

“You’re such a good fucking boy,” you begin to grind harder, pushing your sensitive clit against his tongue over and over.

Königs cock leaks precum from the excitement of feeling used by you. It twitches begging for attention but he knows he isn’t allowed to touch himself. You don’t even think about his pleasure as you focus on making yourself cum.

“Finger me and eat it,” you move off of him and drop down on bed beside him. He gets up and move down on the bed to get between your legs.

König runs two fingers down your cunt to get his fingers wet before slipping two in. His begins to move his fingers in and out rapidly. His blue eyes looking up at you as you play with your nipples and close your eyes. He rests his head against your thigh, using it as a pillow, as he laps at your cunt. Your moans become louder as your body begins to quake. His excitement beginning to boil over as he feels your walls tighten around his fingers.

“Oh fuck, König, you’re- you’re doing so well.” You praise as you feel yourself begin to cum.

König watches as you get ready to orgasm. Your perfect body, your sweet smell, your taste, the way you praise him… he can’t stop it. König begins to whimper into your cunt as he feels a warm puddle form under his cock as he begins to cum on the bedsheets. You follow with your own orgasm as your wetness drips down his fingers.

You open your eyes hearing his sounds and look down at him with your eyebrows furrowed. König notices your gaze and he slowly stops licking your clit and looks up at you.

“Did you just cum before me?”

“Es tut mir Leid,” König whispers.

You pant looking down at him still, “Get on all fours.” You kick him back with one foot as he scrambles quickly to the floor.

Walking to the closest, you get out your paddle and turn back to him, you run the cold wood along his back. “You’re washing the sheets after this too.”

“Of course, Meisterin, thank you.” He says smirking, preparing for his punishment.

[toranesu]

STRESS RELIEF ( M¡NE ) ♡

sub bottom solomon + dom top male reader | cw. masochist solomon, spanking, choking, degradation, anal sex, dumbification, overstimulation, possessive reader, he calls reader sir, takes place in nightbringer

:: solomon's UR+ is cumming to me fr

"Solomon.. miss you," you hug him from behind. You had just arrived back at Cocytus Hall and instantly went towards Solomon. He lifted his head from his studies and looked at you with a smile, "Tired?"

"Mm," you merely hummed in response burying your face in the crook of Solomon's neck, inhaling sharply. "Didn't realize dealing with the brothers who're acting like that would drive me crazy," you mumble under your breath, Solomon gently patting your head in return.

Your grip on his waist tightens, kissing his neck softly. "Sorry, Sol. Mind if I get some of the stress out?"

Always agreeing to your requests, Solomon was ruined. Face shoved down into the matress, tears streaming on his face as he moans and bucks his hips up to yours. He'd lost count of how many times he's came, how red his ass was from how you slapped it repeatedly and your merciless thrusts.

You've reduced him to the point all he can get out is loud moans and slurred groans of your name.

"Fuck, nothing but my little slut, aren't you, Sol? Oh Great Mighty Sorcerer Solomon, face down and ass up before me is always such a pleasant sight, y'know?" you groan at the way he tightens up at your words, clenching around your cock and moaning helplessly at your words, letting out slurrs of 'yes..yes yes..'

You lean down to kiss his naked back, kissing along his spine as you continue to mercilessly thrust into him. His back arches and he lets out a long drawn moan, throwing his head back.

"Thank Diavolo we don't have neighbors. You're always such a loud slut. But I bet you'd like it if someone were to find out, huh? Mighty Sorcerer Solomon, at the mercy of his puny little apprentice. It should humiliate you," you grip his hair tightly, pulling it back towards you and whispering in his ear, "..But no. You like it. You want the whole world to know how much of a slutty whore you are, don't you, Sol?"

He moans at your words, no words escaping his mouth. You shove him back down on the matress, grabbing his arms and pinning them on his back, using them as a leverage to continue fucking him roughly.

You give him a hard spank on the ass before groaning under your breath, "Maybe I should let some other lowly demons fuck you dumb to their full wish. Then everyone would know how much of a whore you really are, huh Sol?"

Solomon sobs loudly and clenches tightly around your cock, "Y-yes.. yes," he whimpers, making you grimace and slap the mound of flesh on his ass again, dropping your hold on his arms and gripping on his hair again, fucking into him at a rougher pace.

"Well too bad for you. You're mine, Solomon. Don't ever wish for someone else to do you like this, because no one can. I'm the only one for you, Sol," you place your hands on his neck, pressing and cutting his breath circulation, earning a choked moan from him.

The way you called him yours, only yours— the way you're so possessive over him, drives him mad. That feeling itself was enough to send him to the edge, cumming all over the bedsheets once again, clenching his walls around your dick.

"Hnngh s-sirr....." he lets out a slurred moan, grinding his hips back onto yours, trembling from the ecstasy of yet another orgasm. "I'm yours.. o-only yours.. please.. use me."

And fuck, was that hot. He'd do anything for you. Use him, break him, claim him as yours, he'll take it like a good little toy.

Your good little sorcerer ♡

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Worship You

Pairing: Frank Castle x AFAB Reader

Main Masterlist

GIF Source: Papa-Evershed @papa-evershed

Summary: You’re feeling a little nervous and insecure about your postpartum body, Frank just wants to show you how much he loves you.

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). Mentions of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum AFAB body. New mom insecurities and fears. Lactation kink, oral (F receiving), fingering, protected P in V, use of lube. Pet names (baby, sweetheart, mama)

WC: 2600

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

Four and a half months, that’s how long it had been since you’d given birth to the precious angel that was your daughter. It was the best day of your life and changed so many things so quickly.

Particularly, your body. You were so proud of it; growing and carrying a life for 9 months, enduring 14 hours of labor and delivery, producing daily nutrition to feed this tiny human you loved so dearly. You lamented all the times in your youth when you would pick and pull at your skin, over analyzing the ways your body could “improve” and wishing to abide more by the over photoshopped standards you saw in magazines. How foolish you were.

Now you loved your body. She was a warrior. A Goddess.

But still, even with your new found appreciation for her, it was difficult some days to not feel like a stranger in your own skin. You knew pregnancy and birth would bring about irreversible changes to your body. But nothing could have prepared you for the emotional wave of grief and confusion that came with all the new feelings and quirks that come with life after pregnancy. 

Which was probably why you had been avoiding having sex. 

Sure sex had been uncomfortable towards the end of your pregnancy, you and Frank inventing the most insane positions just to find a comfortable way to do it. Your body had already changed so much then, but even more so now. Would he still love you like he used to? Would the things you used to enjoy still feel good? Would there be any pain?

You’d been cleared at your 8 week postpartum appointment to move forward with all sexual activity, but still had put it off.

Frank, of course, never pushed the issue. In fact he never brought it up at all, too tired and busy doting on your daughter and making sure your recovery went smoothly. Daily, you got to witness the strength and determination he showed to welcome this second chance despite the demons of his past. He was the epitome of a perfect father and partner, which only turned you on and made you love him even more.

“Ithinkweshouldhavesextonight” you finally blurted out one morning, need for intimate connection and relief outweighing the anxiety.

Frank had just gotten your daughter down for a nap and was at the kitchen sink washing out your pumping equipment. 

He turned around so casually to face you and leaned against the counter, as if you had just asked him what the weather was. God, did he have to look so sexy when he was just existing?

He looked you up and down and with an eyebrow corked replied softly “Yeah? That somethin’ you’re ready for?”

You were still reeling from the shock of actually saying it out loud and stuttered out “I… I think so.”

Frank nodded calmly. 

“Okay.” 

And then he was back to his task without another word.

He didn’t bring it up for the rest of the day, going through the evening routine of dinner, diaper changes, and bathtime with your daughter as he normally would.

Meanwhile, your nerves were on edge, half with anxiety, half with anticipation. 

The last feeding of the night was done and your daughter drifted to sleep in your arms as you rocked her. You gingerly set her down in her bassinet, careful not to wake her and have to start the whole routine again.

It was typical to find Frank leaning in the door frame of the nursery, happily observing the site of his family. So you weren’t surprised when you turned around and found him standing there with a grin plastered across his face.

“Hey beautiful.” 

“Hey big guy.”

“You still feeling up to…” he asked

“Yeah,” You nodded. “C’mon let's go to the bedroom.”

You reached for his hand, but he pulled it away.

“I got somethin’ for you first.” 

The bathtub was to the brim with bubbles. Based on the aroma in the air, you could tell it was the good kind you liked to buy at cute little boutiques in Brooklyn and not the Johnson and Johnson brand you used for your daughter’s baths.

Frank pressed his chest to your back and placed a gentle kiss to your crown.

“Gotta get you relaxed first.”

Docile fingers danced under the hem of the shirt you wore; a dingy, grey henley that once belonged to him, as he slowly began to undress you.

You silently cursed at yourself for not putting on something sexier earlier. Not that any of your old lingerie fit you, but anything more put together than this would have been better.

“Where’s that brain of yours goin’ now?”

Goddamnit how could he read you so well?

“Just wishing I put a little more effort in to seducing you.” 

“Eh, you know you don’t need nothin’ fancy to do that.”

The kisses he peppered to your now exposed shoulder sent a shiver up your spine as he continued.

“My woman’s so goddamn pretty, it’s been torture keeping my hands to myself.” 

Frank’s plan worked wonders as you found yourself emerging from a half-hour in the scented warm water feeling relaxed and floaty.

He was waiting for you in the bedroom, wearing nothing but clean grey sweatpants that rode low to tease and tantalize you. Good to know he still remembered just what you liked.

He eyed you up and down as you walked towards him, closing the gap between you and pulling you flush to him.

A gentle hand ran down your cheek as you lovingly gazed into each other's eyes.

“Okay, here’s how this is gonna go,” he said “I’m gonna go nice and slow,”

You let out a huff, which caused Frank’s eyebrows shoot up.

“And you’re not gonna whine about it.”

“Fine.” you conceded

“If at any point, anything hurts or makes you uncomfortable, even a little, you tell me and we stop. You got that?”

You nodded your head gently, leaning into the hand he still had resting where your jaw and neck meet.

“Atta girl.”

His lips were soft when they met yours, gentle but not hesitant. He took care to guide you backwards and sit you down on the bed gingerly.

It always fascinated you how hands that inflicted so much violence and death could show you such tenderness and love, could provide so much pleasure. Even moreso now seeing how docile he was with your newborn.

The tie of your robe undid easily and the soft fabric fell off your shoulders and pooled in your lap, exposing you to him.

His eyes were full of reverence as he once again stared at you, admiring with a boyish grin before he dove in and covered your skin in the sweetest of kisses. Each meeting of his lips to your shoulders, your neck, your chest was the rising sun of spring, reigniting your body from hibernation.

His nimble fingers gently grabbed at your breast as he continued tracing his lips across you, giving it a small squeeze before twirling your nipple under his thumb.

It was just enough stimulation to release a few small drips of milk, followed by a tiny stream.

You pushed at his shoulder to get him off and attempted to stop the liquid with a bit of your robe.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought about pumping before we got started, but I was hoping maybe she had enough before bed that it’d be alright.”

“It’s okay baby.” Frank practically whispered, swiping at the opaque fluid with his thumb.

“They sore?” he asked

“A little.”

“Can I help?”

You practically felt a flood rush between your legs at his request and nodded eagerly.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees before you. His breath was hot against your skin as he licked all the way up from your ribcage to your nipple, gathering the warm nectar on his tongue. 

He hummed in satisfaction as he took your nipple fully into his mouth. The divine mix of building pleasure and sweet relief filled your body as he began to suckle, soft pouty lips encompassing your breast.

Big hands wrapped around your lower back, pressing indents into your skin with his calloused fingers as he held you close to him, his eyes now squeezed shut as he continued to nurse.

You threw your head back, groaning at the borderline overwhelm of feelings that ripped through your body.

Frank laid you down slowly, upper lips dragging along your skin as he released your breast and began to kiss down, allowing a spurt of milk to fly into the air.

As he moved down, your hands instinctively flew to cover the loose skin of your stomach, still laden with lighter stripes from where your daughter stretched your flesh as she grew in utero.

His thick fingers grabbed at your wrists to stop you.

“No.” he commanded and instinctually you groaned in rebuttal, trying to free your hands from his grip.

“Ain’t no hiding from me baby. C’mon.”

The low roughness of his voice always made you want to obey whatever he requested. You looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Look, I know you’re still gettin used to all of it, but you’re still my woman and I love you. Shit, you’re even more my woman now that you’ve had my kid. You think I ain’t gonna worship every bit of you? This beautiful body that gave me my daughter, that gave me a second chance I don’t deserve. You think I ain’t gonna love every inch of you just as much as before?”

You couldn’t help but grin at his praise and nodded, leaving your hands at your side and permitting him to continue his work.

Done with taking his time, but still a certain gingerness to his movements, he finally kissed his way to between your legs. You were practically squirming with need as he teased his hot breath against your core.

The sweet relief when he finally ran his tongue through your folds had you practically jumping off the mattress with how calico-like your back arched. You were sensitive, having had no stimulation there in months. You hadn’t even dared to touch yourself in any way that wasn’t medically related, afraid to even test the waters.

Once he was satisfied with the amount he slicked up your petals with his tongue, he went back to being slow and careful, experimenting with your limits by tickling your entrance with the tip of his finger.

Another nod from you and he pushed in just to the first knuckle, then the second. All you could do was whimper with the pleasure of finally feeling him again, bucking your hips to encourage him to go further.

He massaged your walls a little before adding a second finger and you were in heaven.

It was so familiar the way he worked you over with his fingers and mouth. More and more of your fears dissipated with every movement, the luminous pleasure building inside took them over. 

Your orgasm crashed into you unexpectedly, taking not much at all to get you there. It made you feel normal and human and real again. 

Tenderly, he kissed at your thighs as you worked to steady your breathing.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?”

Another nod. Usually it was Frank who was mostly silent and you doing all the talking. But not tonight.

“That good, huh?”

A giggle escaped you.

“Talk to me pretty girl, what you need now?”

“You Frank, wanna feel you inside me.”

“Okay. How? Gotta do whatever’s gonna be most comfortable for you.”

“I think I should be on top. Have the most control that way.”

“You got it.”

Frank rummaged around the nightstand and pulled out a condom and the bottle of lube. He shed his sweatpants and made his way back to you. 

Spreading your legs, he applied a generous amount of lube, using his fingers to push it inside you a little. Satisfied with that preparation, he layed down beside you and put the condom on. You tossed your robe to the floor and crawled to him, maneuvering to hover over his length.

He held you in place with one strong hand and ran the back of his finger down your cheek with the other.

“Remember baby, anything hurts, we stop.”

You nodded, then reached down to guide him to your entrance.

It was a delicious stretch as you slowly sank down, relaxing away the last of your fears about pain. It felt good. It felt different. But it felt good.

The sigh of relief once he was fully seated inside you echoed around the room. You sat there for a moment, enjoying the pleasure. It felt like coming home after being away for too long.

You gave a rock of your hips, steady and easy, feeling the drag of his cock against your velvet walls. 

Again. And again. 

Until you found a comfortable rhythm and lost yourself to the pleasure.

Meanwhile, Frank’s hands continued to explore, reveling in the feel of your skin under his touch after missing it for so long. Observing the way pleasure twisted and contorted on your face as you rode him, he couldn’t take his gaze off of you.

Temptation won him over, he raised his hand to paw at your other breast. Just a few pinches to your tender nipple and the leak began.

Rising to his elbows, he once again took your breast in his mouth. The warmth of his soft lips latching and sucking sent a wave of goosebumps across your skin as you continued to thrust against him.

Carding your fingers through his cropped hair, you held his head to you, encouraging him to continue.

His fingers found the other breast, squeezing so the stream of milk began once more, flowing down the curve of your tit.

“Frank, I’m so close.” you said, punctuated by the slap of skin.

He moved to bury his face between your boobs and kissed your breast bone, husking out “That’s it baby, let me feel you. Atta girl” 

Every dial in your body was cranked up to maximum capacity and it wasn’t long before you erupted, white hot pleasure coursing from head to toe as you rhythmically clenched around him.

You grabbed at his shoulders in an attempt to not fall over and he shushed at the whimpers you released with every spasm of your walls.

Frank wasn’t far behind, cradling your face as he pulled you to press your forehead to his.

A grunt escaped him as he thrusted up into you a final time. His gaze bore into yours as he released, attempting to say a million words he couldn’t form right now.

Cautiously, he tipped sideways and laid you down beside him on the bed, pulling you to lay on his glistening chest. 

“You feeling good?”

“Yeah, Frank that was perfect.”

“Good baby, I’m glad we…”

But his words were cut off, the siren cry coming from down the hall stopped both of you in your tracks.

You moved to get up but Frank pushed at your shoulder.

“Shh shh shh I got her mama. You stay put.”

You closed your eyes as you listened to him coo her back to sleep from down the hall, content to live in this little bubble of joy forever.

For you @itwasthereaminuteago

[moonstruckme]

hey, i love your writing so much!! can you do something with remus where reader is really upset over doing bad on an assignment and he comforts her. i had an essay today and i KNOW i failed😭😭i fr need a remmy

Thank you gorgeous! I hope you did better than you thought <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 831 words

Remus can feel some sort of upset building inside you. You’ve been quiet ever since dinner, a glumness accumulating around you like a thick fog. He’d call it a sulk if your usual kindheartedness didn’t seem so intact. But every smile is thin-lipped and you’re making painfully slow progress on your section of the puzzle, your eyes too often going cloudy and distant, off to somewhere Remus can’t follow. 

“Think I’ve got one of yours,” Remus murmurs, pushing a puzzle piece towards you. 

You take it with a low hum of thanks. 

He watches as you put it in your pile. His section of the puzzle isn’t coming along much better; he’s too worried about you to focus. You’re teetering on the edge of some sort of fracturing, he can feel it, and he doesn’t know what to do or how to make it better. 

He tries a new tactic. “Do you feel like some dessert, love? I might nip to the corner store for a sweet.” 

“Sure, that sounds good.” The smile you give him this time is more a grimace than anything else, and then you’re pushing yourself up from where you sit on the floor. “I’m going to go to the restroom.” 

Remus watches you go with a hollow ache in his chest. During dinner, you’d gotten an alert on your phone, and the change had been instant. Your shoulders had drooped at whatever you’d seen, your lips parting and then pressing determinedly together before you’d set your phone on the table, face down. Remus didn’t ask, and you didn’t seem inclined to bring it up. But whatever it was has clearly stuck with you. 

He gives it a few minutes before he follows. You could actually be in the bathroom, but he doubts it; he thinks he knows where you’ve gone. There’s a small gap between the bed and the wall in your bedroom, just barely big enough to walk in.

That’s where he finds you. Slouched in the corner as if you’ve misbehaved. 

“Hey,” he says softly, cramming into the space in front of you. He places his feet on either side of yours, your drawn-up knees slotting between his calves. “Why’re you hiding from me?” 

You’ve got your face covered with your hands, and your voice muffles into them when you speak. Still, the evidence of your crying is audible. “Because I know I’m being stupid.” 

“You’ve never been stupid, not once in your life,” Remus replies lightly. He takes your wrists in his hands, letting his thumbs run over the sensitive skin. “If you tell me what’s wound you up so badly, I can tell you if it’s stupid, but I doubt it is.” 

You lower your hands without his asking. It takes a good deal of self-control not to crumple at the sight of you. Your face is blotchy, a terribly sad downturn to your pretty lips, and when a tear globs and drops from your eye, Remus feels like someone’s thrust their hand into his chest and squeezed.

“You’re too nice to tell me if I’m being stupid,” you say, a teasing note to your voice despite your sorry state. 

Remus goes with it. He nods, faux serious, and gives you a look of great solemnity. “If any stupidity comes to light, I promise to laugh at you for the rest of the night.” 

You start to smile, but it crumples halfway through. “I really messed up.” 

There’s no joking to his seriousness now; he feels his brows bunch as he rubs a path up your forearm, desperate to soothe you. “How, sweetheart?” 

“I did really badly on my essay,” you whimper. “I know it’s dumb to cry about but I just—I really wanted to do well.” 

His heart swells with sympathy, though there’s a bit of relief that comes with it. “That’s not stupid,” he promises you, working his hand up your arm to your shoulder. It’s halfway to a hug, and you lean towards him a little, craving the comfort. “To some people, it might be, but you put so much pressure on yourself about these things.” He kisses your knee. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed, lovely, but it’s going to be okay.” 

You shake your head, sniffling. “The grade’s already in. There’s nothing I can do.” 

“I know,” Remus says apologetically. He moves closer, looking into your eyes so you can see the sincerity in his. Your chin wobbles. “It’s done, but you’ll be alright. You’ll still graduate, get a job. In a year from now you won’t even remember this.” 

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. You’re still weeping, but it’s slowing. He sets both hands to your cheeks. “You did your best, sweetheart. Keep trying. You’ll be okay.” 

“Promise you won’t leave me if I fail this class?” you joke.

Your efforts win a rare smile. Remus scrunches his nose against yours. “Promise. It’ll take a lot more than that, you’ve got me all settled in.”

[vinaxxo]

17+ | Let that hair down, Grandmaster 🩵!

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve written something fr, but i need to contribute my love to my MK baes like the rest of yall. My top MK baes being Tomas and Bi han. Love my babies to def.

What happens when Bi han’s hair falls from THE bun?

CONTENT: smut, fem reader, (bihan is a warning itself), degradation, slight fluff near the end because i adore him and the mood wasn’t rough anymore

Long after Bi han’s lin kuei duties have been fulfilled, he took it upon himself to relax… inside of you.

“Bi han, slow down—!” You cried, barely getting used to the thickness that filled your core. He only scoffed, snapping back at you with his chilly attitude.

“Take it,” he grunted, pausing his thrusts very briefly to hook your shaky legs over his massive thighs. His words made you whimper, and soon enough moans started to spill from your pretty lips as Bi han pounded into your cunt once more, the sheer force making your body jump against his. “Take it like the whore you are.”

His face melted in relief as his aching dick was squeezed by your warm, slick pussy after a hard day’s work. Before you lose any more focus, your eyes warm from fresh tears of pleasure, your hands latch onto Bi han’s back, your nails leaving trails of blood red down it— making him jerk his head forward with a curse (causing his hair tie to loosen). You know he savors the pain, and it’s only fair since your pussy’s getting abused by his huge dick every other day.

Enchantingly, right as Bi han drives a cool hand up your throat, his bun falls, causing his silken black hair to messily pool right over his shoulders.

You’re mesmerized by this sight, reaching a hand up to touch his hair— and Bi han is too late to push you away. He momentarily slows his feverish pace, opting for something more sensual as his intense gaze falls over yours.

“I could get used to this view…” you said softly, subconsciously pulling his handsome face closer to yours.

Bi han broke a small, rare grin, pearly whites making you swoon before his lips crashed into yours. Truly a Bi han fashion. As his dick grinded up your guts, the lewd sounds made your ears burn up and your cunt flutter around him. Bi han’s kisses turn hungrier as his locks brush against your cheeks, chilled tongue melting against your warm one.

“You’re lucky.” He comments, pulling back slightly, his voice charmingly gruff. “… Lucky that I allow you to be this close to me.”

His deep brown eyes look into yours, inches away, and you swear you fall harder for your Grandmaster. Even when he said so little, it meant so much coming from him. You tucked some of Bi han’s fallen hair behind his ear, his left cheekbone and small moles visible once more.

“I’ll always be yours, Grandmaster.” You fawn, unable to keep your hands off of Bi han as they wander to his chest. He (his dick) takes a liking to your words, as he almost tenderly holds your jaw.

“And you will always be mine, (reader).”

…

After that night, Bi han got used to having his hair down more often— in only the private downtime with you. You never fail to run your fingers through those royal strands, and he quietly permits you to massage his scalp after a long day, his big arms crossed over his torso.

He would never admit to it, but you’re the only thing keeping him grounded in this world. You’re stuck with him for life, whether you know it or not.

© vinaxxo 2024. Do not use my works for ai, or reposting to different platforms.

Dividers by: @rookthornesartistry

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 14 - Born Under a Bad Sign

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Words can't explain how EXCITED I was for this episode AHHHHHHHHHH!!!! It's one of my favs and I've had scenes planned for it since I was writing the first few episodes of season one.

I've been powering through a lot of the heartbreak and shit in this season JUST for this episode lol.

So I hope everyone likes my twist and take on it!🥰

________________________________

Third Person POV

"Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from her?" Dean asked hopefully, currently parked under a bridge. Y/N has been missing for a week, no calls, no texts, nothing. Just radio silent. His heart aches painfully, constantly blaming himself for her leaving. Telling himself that if he had push her away, if he hadn't been so cold. She would've never left.

"I swear, it's like looking for dad and f/n all over again. I'm losing my mind here" Dean grumbled, wiping his face, frustration in his tone. "No, I've called her a thousand times, there's nothing but voicemail. I mean, I don't know where she went or why." Dean defended but he was lying, his mind was blaming him over and over.

"I left Sam at Bobby's to go out looking for her. Took a lot to make him stay behind but he did....Y/N's just gone" Dean croaked. "Alright, thanks Ellen.." Dean sighed before hanging up, dialing Sam's number. Sam answered almost immediately. "You heard from her?" He asked softly, his voice filled with concern and hope. "Nothing...not one fucking thing" Dean muttered, his voice rough.

"I've called and called...there's no answer. All her phones just go straight to voicemail" he replied, a deep frown settling on his face as tears welled up in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. "Maybe she just needs some time, Dean" Sam reasoned gently, trying to console his brother. He knew how much Y/N meant to him, how worried he was about her being alone out there somewhere.

Dean let out a bitter scoff. "You think I haven't considered that? But it's not like her to vanish like this, Sam. Something's wrong." He said, his grip tightening on his phone. "I know, you're right" Sam sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "But we'll find her. We just need to keep looking, keep calling" he said, a note of determination in his voice.

Dean went to reply but he felt his phone vibrate, pulling it away from his ear, he saw that it was Y/N's cell calling him. Dean's eyes widened, he nearly dropped his phone. "She's calling," he said urgently, hanging up on Sam. His heart racing as he answered the call. "Y/N/N??" Dean said softly but urgently before he snapped, "Where the hell are you, are you okay?!" He bellowed.

"D-dean?" Her shaky and terrified voice echoed through the phone. At the sound of her voice, all the tension in Dean's body seemed to ease some. He let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. "Princess, thank god... yeah, it's me. Where are you? Are you okay?!" Dean asked, his voice a mix of worry and relief. She immediately started freaking out, sobbing hysterically.

Y/N's sobs echoed through the phone, her panicked voice making Dean's heart ache more with each passing second. "I-I-I'm so scared, D-Dean! I don't know where I a-am" she stuttered, her words broken up by gasps and sobs. It sounded slightly exaggerated and rehearsed but Dean tossed all logic out of his mind upon hearing her like this. His mind swirling with worry and panic.

"Hey, hey, hey..calm down for me okay, sweetheart? We don't want you to have another panic attack, alright?" Dean tried to soothe her, his heart breaking at the sound of her crying. "Do it with me. Deep breaths. In...out..." He guided, trying to get her to calm down. Y/N tried to follow his instructions, her breaths coming out as shaky gasps and sobs. Gradually, her deep breaths turned more rhythmic.

"Dean...I-I-I'm trying to stay calm but I'm so scared. I don't know how I got here" she hiccupped fearfully, her voice hoarse from crying and hyperventilating. "Where are you?" He asked her urgently. She instantly gave him her location, "Alright, don't move. I'm on my way" He said firmly before hanging up and hopping into his car.

As the call ended, Dean practically leapt into the Impala. He started the engine, pulling out from under the bridge and speeding down the road. He drove as quickly as he could, the entire time, his mind racing.

Why didn't she call until now? What the hell happened? Where's she been, who hurt her? Questions swirled in his head like a storm, his heart hammering in his chest.

-

Meanwhile, Y/N, who was currently being possessed by Meg. Hung up the call, a with a wicked smirk on her face, wiping away a faux-tear from her eye. Staring into the mirror of the motel room as y/n fought for control on her body, looking back at herself. Sobbing on the inside at the shit Meg had made her do, staring down at her bloodied hand.

As Meg's smirk spread across Y/N's face in the mirror, she could feel the girl trying to desperately claw at her mind. Y/N's desperate and terrified pleads echoed in the back of her head, while Meg silently laughed.

"Don't fight it, darling" Meg cooed tauntingly, as she continued to stare at Y/N from the reflection. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" Meg taunted in a mocking tone. She turned from the mirror, pacing around the room as she spoke. "The big, tough hunter is coming to save the poor damsel in distress. How cliché" she chuckled darkly.

Y/N's voice rang within the confines of her mind, screaming her defiance and anger. "Shut up, bitch! Shut up!" she yelled, struggling to have even a semblance of control to speak. But her voice was a mere whisper in the back of her own mind. On the outside, however, no words left her lips. Meg was in control now, and there was no way for Y/N to regain even a tiny bit of that control.

She was currently just a prisoner within her own body horrified Y/N. She could only watch helplessly through her own eyes as Meg did whatever she wished with her. And right now, that was waiting for Dean to arrive, like a trap.

________________________________

(Quick Author's Note: Sorry for the interruption but I just wanna put it out there that I won't be saying 'Meg' for the rest of the chapter, unless I'm speaking of her internal monologue because it would be confusing to me, honestly. So I'm just going to say y/n to make things easier. But remember, Meg possessing her the entire time and every move she makes isn't hers, it's Meg. Okay, back to the story!)

________________________________

Twin Lakes Motel

Shortly after, Dean arrived to the motel. Slamming his door shut as he ran towards the motel room y/n gave him. Trudging down the hall and Y/N sat on the bed, stoic, Meg controlled her, aiding to the act as she stared down at her bloody knuckles. A knock at the door echoed, "Y/N, it's me" Dean gruff voice boomed through the door.

Meg's smirk widened, her fingers running over the blood on her knuckles as Dean unlocked the door, slowly walking through it. She kept her gaze trapped on Y/N's knuckles, a feigned air of innocence and fear.

"Hey Dean," she croaked in Y/N's voice as Dean moved closer. Deans eyes glanced down at her bloody knuckles, crouching besides her as he took her fist into his hand. "Are you bleeding?" He asked her softly. "I tried to wash it off...I-" She croaked, as Dean's eyes landed on her blood soaked top. His heart sank, "Oh my God" He gasped, pushing aside her leather jacket to see her cream top, drenched with dried blood.

"I don't think it's my blood" Y/N's voice dropped, "Who's is it?" Dean asked urgently, his eyes wide with panic. "I-I don't know" She shook her head, looking down at the top confused. "Y/N, what the hell happened?" Dean urged as she looked up at him slowly. "Dean....I don't remember anything" Tears welled up in her eyes as she said this, feigning sadness.

Dean's heart practically sank to his stomach as she spoke. Her words, her tone, the look in her eyes it all seemed so... wrong. Something was off about her, he could feel it in his gut. Nonetheless, he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as she leaned into him.

Y/N, trapped within her own mind, was screaming to be heard. She was pounding on the mental walls, she was kicking, scratching and doing everything she could to have even a semblance of control as she felt herself be pulled into the side of Dean.

It was so wrong, wrong, wrong. It was all so wrong. She was being so close to the man she loved, but it didn't feel right. Not with the smirk on her face on her face that Meg was sporting, not her in control. It didn't feel like the hug she'd wanted so badly. Y/N wanted to scream but could do nothing but watch through her eyes as she buried her face into Dean's chest, her arms wrapping around him.

-

A little later, Y/N was sat on the bed as Dean entered back the room, having left to find out when y/n checked in and to get food. A paper bag with food in one hand and his phone pressed to his ear with the other, talking to Sam. Informing him that he's with y/n right now.

He closed the door behind him, his eyes glued to her figure on the bed. She was oddly and eerily still and silent, it sent a slight shiver up his spine. Dean continued speaking into the phone to Sam, his grip tightening on the paper bag. "Yeah, she's here. I found her" He said as he walked closer to her.

He reached into the paper bag, pulling a burger and fries out for her. She accepted it graciously, "Let me talk to her" Sam said to Dean through the phone. "Hang on," Dean replied as he handed the burger to Y/N. She took it almost hesitantly, her eyes flicking warily over his face. "Here, eat up," Dean said gently, as he put Sam on speaker phone and put it down on the bed.

Y/N looked down at the phone, before picking at a fry in the burger box reluctantly. "Hey Sammy" She breathed out, "Hey y/n/n" Sam's voice echoed through the phone, relief and worry filling his tone. "You're okay? Thank God, where the hell have you been? We've been calling you nonstop" Y/N bit into the burger before speaking. "That's what we're trying to figure out" She sighed, looking up at Dean expectingly.

Dean met her gaze, his heart sinking. The look in her eyes was so foreign to him. It looked.. empty, like there was no compassion, no comfort, no nothing. Just a blankness in her eyes that felt wrong.

"She doesn't remember what happened" Dean said finally, sitting down next to her. "What'd you find out?" Sam asked, "She checked in two days ago under the name Charlotte Bennington . Of course I think the scariest part about this is that you're still a Linkin' Park" Dean snorted, earning a dry chuckle and a middle finger from Y/N.

"Dean" Sam said seriously over the phone, "Y/N's rooms been quiet. Nobody's noticed anything unusual" Dean sighed, "You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood" She clenched her jaw, suddenly feeling less hungry as she put the burger said, not that Meg needed it to survive in her body. "Yeah, that's what I mean" Dean frowned, "How did I even get here, fellas? What happened to me?!" Y/N groaned, burying her head in her hands.

"We don't know, but you're okay, that's what matters" Sam's voice pierced through the speaker, "Exactly, everything else we can deal with" Dean added, placing his hand on the small of her back to rub gentle circles. Meg inwardly rolled her eyes at the touch before putting in back the act, "Oh, really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse-" Y/N shot up from the bed, beginning to pace the room as Dean's hand dropped to his side.

"Y/N!" Sam and Dean cut her off in unison, making her roll her eyes as she rest her hands on her hips. She took a deep breath before saying, "What if this is what John warned you about?" She stated, "Hey, woah woah. Come on, man. Let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened" Dean got defensive. "He's right, y/n/n. If it was....that..." Sam gulped, "It would've happened to me too" He stated firmly as Dean nodded.

"Exactly, most of your weirdo visions and stuff are connected, it would've happened to him to. Now we just gotta treat this like any job" Dean agreed as y/n took a deep breath. "Fuck this, I'm leaving Bobby's. I'll meet up with you guys in Twin Lakes" Sam grunted, adamant to help but Dean was quick to deny the help. "No, no no, Sammy. You stay where you are" Dean said firmly.

"We've got this" Sam rolled his eyes at this, "Dean-" Sam began but Dean was already cutting him off. "I'm serious, Sam. We don't need anything happening to you too" he said firmly. Sam let out a defeated sigh over the phone, "Fine.." he grumbled. "You better keep me updated though" He said firmly, the concern clear in his tone. "Yeah. We'll call you when we find something" Dean replied, reaching over to end the call before Sam could say anything else.

"Alright sweetheart, what's the last thing you remember?" Dean began softly, patting the bed next to him as y/n paced the room. She continued to pace, "It was me, you and Sam. At my safehouse in Fredericksburg, Texas....I went out to get supplies for the house and..." She began, this made Dean's face drop. "Fredericksburg, Texas? That was over a week ago" His tone dropped. Y/N looked over at him, anguish in her eyes. "That's it" She sighed, plopping her hands in defeat.

Dean was deep in thought, "Next thing I knew, I was sitting here....bloody. I felt like I'd been asleep for a month" She feigned a gulp. "Okay. Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and they never saw you come back so..." Dean got up and walked over to the window, pulling aside the curtain, his blood went cold when he saw dried blood on the window handle.

"Hey..." He called her over, y/n stepped closer to see the blood. Her breath hitching as they shared a look. "Well check it out, after" He said firmly, "But now" He then pointed to the food on the bed. "Eat" Dean ordered her firmly. Her stomach had no appetite, and the thought of food only made it twist uncomfortably. But she knew she had to keep the act up. So she sat back down on the bed and reached for the burger, forcing herself to take a half-hearted bite.

After she finished her food, Dean fished out a warm chocolate chip cookie from the paper bag. Y/N eyed the cookie, her mouth practically watering at the sight of it. Damn she couldn't deny her love of chocolate chip cookies. Meg hated them but Y/N loved them. So in order to keep up the act, she smiled widely. "You got me a cookie?" Dean smiled, clearly relived to see her smile.

He held the cookie out for her as he chuckled, "Yeah. I know how much you love them" As Dean turned away, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. Meg resisted the urge to chuck the cookie at his head, rolling her eyes as she grimaced but forced it down Y/N's throat.

Meg wanted to gag at the taste of the cookie. While Y/N was happy to get something in her stomach because the bitch wasn't feeling her. Meg hated it, but she couldn't show that. So she forced herself to chew and swallow it with a pained smile. "Thanks Dean" She said faintly, trying to hide her disgust.

________________________________

The two walked down to the parking lot, y/n was now changed into fresh clothes. Her bloodied ones trashed, currently dressed in a dark brown top with a red flannel, her leather jacket tossed over. "Recognize anything?" Dean asked as her eyes scanned the lot. "Not really" She sighed as they walked a little out. "Wait" She suddenly said, "What?" Dean asked. "I think I was here..." Y/N began, "Do you remember?" Dean asked as Y/N eyed the lot.

"Not really, it just....It feels familiar, you know?" She shrugged, her brows knitted together as Dean moved towards the parking garages across from them. Dean attempted to pick the lock to one but y/n stopped him, "Try that one" She pointed to the second door, "Okay.." Dean said attempting to pick the lock again as she buried her hands into her pickets, feigning a confusing look as she took out a key.

"Wait..." Y/N gulped, before handing Dean the key. He raised his brows at this before accepting it, shoving it into the pad lock. The key did end up opening the garage door, an almost exaggerated gasp escaping y/n throat as he slid the door upwards, revealing a Volkswagen Beetle. "Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this" Dean groaned, looking at y/n with a exasperated expression as she sighed.

The two then made their way over to the car, Dean opening the passenger and y/n opening the drivers side. She pulled down the visor above, her eyes widening as they flickered down to the steering wheel. She ran her fingers over the wheel, showing it to Dean who looked equaled terrified, "More blood" She gulped, "Y/N...backseat" Dean pointed to a knife, drenched with mostly dried blood floorboard.

Y/N shakily picked the knife, examining it with terror on her face as Dean clenched his jaw, imagining the worse. "You think I used this on someone?" Y/N muttered horrified, but Dean shook his head. "I'm not thinking anything" He responded gruffly, but his heart was paining at the possibility. Y/N looked like she was close to tears as she wiped the blood from the knife on her dark flannel.

"Okay, now this is disturbing" Dean muttered, picking up a pack of Maverick cigarettes from the dashboard, y/n's head tilted in confusion at this. "But you know I smoke" She raised her brow, "Yeah, but you don't smoke this shit" Dean waved the pack of cheap cigarettes, "You usually smoke Dunhill, that flavored one" Dean stated the obvious, causing Meg to curse herself mentally at the forgotten fact about y/n. "Right...right" She covered up her mistake with a sigh.

Dean threw her a suspicious glance, his brows furrowed as if something was on his mind. But he didn't say anything, instead, he focused back on the situation at hand, trying to make sense of the pieces as he looked around the car. He brushed it off as her head not being in the right place. "Come on, Princess. This couldn't have been you. It had to have been someone else. Somebody who, uh.." Dean assured her before sniffing the half empty pack, "..has terrible taste" He chuckled amused, tossing the pack on the dashboard

Y/N eyes landed on a receipt that was folded in between the seats. She picked it up, studying it closely for a moment before showing it to Dean. "Hey. A gas receipt, few towns over" She said urgently, her voice low.

-

Couple hours later, it was now evening time, the pair made it to the gas station in the Impala. Dean parked near the Gas n Sip store, "Alright, the receipt's for 10 gallons at pump number two" Dean said, reading off of the receipt as Y/N was lost in thought. His eyes flickered over to her, concern filling him from the dark look in her eyes. "You, uh, getting any goosebumps yet? 'God this looks familiar', déjà-vu, vibes?" He asked as she shook her head.

"That ESP thing doesn't seem to be working today, huh?" Dean smirked lightly, expecting a glare or a smack from her, as per usual. But instead, she sighed, shaking her head again. "Seems not" She said coldly. Dean's brows furrowed at this, used to her giving him at least an eyeroll whenever he poked her about it, confusing him even more. "Maybe someone inside will remember you" Dean grunted, turning the ignition to Baby off before hopping out.

"Come on" He ushered her out, moving around to her side to open the door for her. The two then walked into the store, the cashier immediately shouted, "You, out of her, now. I'm calling the cops!" Picking up the phone as he shook with fear. Y/N and Dean both gave the cashier a confused look. "You talking to her?" Dean asked, pointing at y/n with his thumb. "Yeah, I'm talking to her" The cashier scoffed.

"Bitch comes in yesterday, stinking drunk. Grabs a 40 from the fridge, starts chugging" The cashier explained with hostility. Y/N's eye's went wide at the story, her body stiffening at his words while Dean's jaw clenched in anger. "First of all, bitch.." Dean air quoted 'bitch', "...not necessary" Dean glared at the cashier, "And this woman? You drinking malt liquor?" He turned to Y/N confused.

"Not after she whipped the bottle at my fucking head" The cashier scoffed angrily, further shocking Dean. He turned to y/n, who wore an equally baffled look. "This woman?" His voice went up an octave at the complete out-of-character description the male cashier was giving him of y/n's supposed actions. "What, am I speaking, Urdu?" The cashier scoffed again, "Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything-" Y/N began apologetically,

"You know what, tell your story walking, sister. Po-po will be here in five" The cashier rolled his eyes, pressing the landline to his ear. "Wait, wait, wait, she's leaving, she's leaving. Put the phone down" Dean attempted to reason with the cashier, "Y/N, go wait in the car" Dean instructed her. "But, Dean-" She protested. "Go wait in the car" He repeated, his voice filled with more authority.

Y/N obeyed Dean reluctantly, walking out of the store and to the Impala, leaning against the car as she waited for him. Meanwhile, Dean turned to the cashier again, now alone with him. Dean wore a faux-smile. "Hey, look, I just wanna talk to you, thanks it, okay?" He tried to reason again, the cashier reluctantly put down the phone. "Now, when she took of yesterday, which way she did go?" Dean asked.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" The cashier sassed as he leaned against the counter. "Because, I'm asking you" Dean flashed him a tight lipped smile, causing him to roll his eyes. "Now. Please, you'd be doing me a huge favor, okay?" Dean pleaded, "Oh, do you a favor? Well, that is what I live for" The cashier sassed, causing Dean to roll his eyes. "You know, you girlfriend didn't pay for the booze or the smokes, which she also illegally lit up."

Deans eyes widened at this, "You saw her smoking that crap?" He asked shocked, "Yeah. Chick's a chimney" The cashier stated as if it was obvious, Dean's eyes darted outside to y/n, who was leaned up against the Impala, patiently waiting. He then fished his wallet out of his pocket, clearing his throat before finding out a $20 bill. "This, uh, ought to cover it" He smiled, resting the hill on the counter as the cashiers face lit up.

"Mm, It's, uh...It's coming back to me now. She took down packs" Dean gave the cashier an unimpressed look before taking his wallet out again. "Of course she did" Dean muttered, pulling out another $20 bill, slamming it into the counter as he glared at the cashier, who smirked as he pocketed the change. "She went north on Route 71. Straight out of town" He told Dean.

He nodded before taking up a candy bar and another pack of Dunhill cigarettes from the holster above. Waving it at him as he quickly made his way out of the store, not bothering to pay, throwing a glare at the cashier before he left.

________________________________

It was now nightfall. Dean was driving as Y/N sat in the passenger side, taking a drag from her cigarette. Her elbow braced on the window ledge as Dean eyed her concerned. Dean kept his eyes on the road, glancing over at her every few minutes. The car was filled with a tense silence, only interrupted by the sound of the radio and the occasional drag from y/n's cigarette.

"What's going on with you, y/n? Hmm?" Dean's gruff concerned tone broke the silence. "Because smoking cheap crap, stealing, throwing bottles at people. I mean, that sounds more like me than you" He added. "Does it though?" She snorted, giving him a knowing look.

Dean chuckled lightly in response, shaking his head at her. She had a point, they were very similar but very different in many ways. "Alright, alright" He shook his head, the amused smile on his face dropping as he glanced back at her. "I mean, why did you leave?" His heart was in his throat as he asked. "Is it..it's it because-" Dean's words got caught in his throat as he thought back to a few weeks ago, that night in Milwaukee.

He looked away, hoping his words didn't come out how he had dreaded they would, "Is it because of that night?" Y/N didn't respond for a moment, her expression unreadable as she took a drag from her cigarette. Meg smirked internally as she went back into y/n's memories to see what night he was talking about. While y/n was screaming on the inside, trying to fight her way out of the demon's possession but Meg wouldn't budge.

After a few moments, through her voice again, spoke up, "What night?" She asked him in a monotone voice. "Don't play dum-" He said gruffly, but Y/N interrupted him, pointing to a dirt road. "Dear, wait. Right here. Turn down that road" She said urgently, flicking her burnt out cigarette bud out the window. "What?" Deans brows furrowed in confusion, "I don't know how I know, I just do" She exasperatedly.

Dean obliged, a bit frustrated that she brushed him off but he drove down the dirt road. About a mile in, they come upon a house. Dean parked infront, the two hopping out of Baby as they scanned the surroundings with their eyes. As soon as they stepped infront of the yard, a large automatic bright white light flashed in their faces from a lamppost. "Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises" Y/N commented. Dean was first to walk up the porch, y/n following behind.

"Should we knock?" Dean said as they approached the door, "Yeah, I guess" Y/N sighed, fishing out her flashlight from her jacket, shining it inside the window to the side as Dean rapped on the door. "Hey charming..." She called out to him, shining the light on the broken glass that scattered on the outside of the window still. "I'm surprised the cops didn't show" Dean muttered.

"Place like this, you'd think they'd have an alarm" He said, shining his own light inside the house, through the window. Y/N walked further up, her eyes flickering to the electrical box to the side of the house, "Yeah, you would" She said, pushing it open. She and Dean shared a look at this.

-

Now inside the house, it was completely trashed upon entered. Dean closed the door behind him as he and y/n further investigated, their boots crunching on the broken glass that was scattered across the floor. Their lights shone through the dark house as Dean entered a room that seemed like an office, to see a man, laying flat to his side on the floor.

Using his foot, Dean poked at the man. "Hit the lights" He mumbled to y/n, who did just that. They both turned off their flashlight, shoving it into their pockets as Dean crouched besides the man, slowly turning him from his side to reveal the deceased man, a large gash in the side of his throat, the pool pooling on the carpet. Deans stomach churned as he brought his hand over his mouth.

"Oh, Christ," Dean breathed out in a whisper, his hand still plastered over his mouth, hiding the repulsed look on his face. Y/N behind him, "Dean, I did this" She croaked, tears welling up in her eyes. "We don't know that." Dean defended, "What else do you need? I mean how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood!?" She exclaimed, "I don't know, y/n/n. Why don't you tell me?!" Dean argued back, her mouth snapped shut at this as Dean tried to come up with possible reasons.

"Look, even if you did do this. I'm sure you had a reason. You know? Self defense, uh, he was a bad son of a bitch, something" Dean assured her but Y/N rolled her eyes.

Loverboy is finding every way to defend her, it's sickening. Meg groaned internally.

Dean began to search the man's pockets but came up empty, "He didn't have any ID" Dean muttered, "I need your lock pick" Y/N said suddenly, her eyes flickering to the closet behind Dean. "What? Don't you have yours? Or you hairpin?" Dean asked confused. "No, just give me yours" She grunted, Dean raised his brows at this but obliged. Y/N unlocked the closet, pulling the doors open to reveal an arsenal of guns, grenades, rifles and ammunition.

"Holy fuck..." She muttered in shock as they scanned the closet, it was not only packed with weapons but also papers and journals that seemed to be filled with lore. "Either this guys a unibomber-" Dean began, "-or a Hunter" Y/N finished his thought, "Dean. I think I killed a hunter" She said shakily, her voice cracking with fear. Dean spotted a camera at the corner of the room, on the ceiling, Let's find out" Dean stated, y/n's eyes followed in his direction.

-

Y/N sat behind the computer that had the footage, after hacking in and retrieving the video. "Here we go" Dean muttered as she rewinded to footage. On the screen show Y/N attacking the man, he attempted to fight her off as she straddled him. Right hooking him square in his jaw before he tossed her off of him. She stumbled back but quickly recovered, kneeing the man in the groin before punching him across his jaw again.

The man doubled over in pain as y/n raised the right foot, swiftly kicking him off of his feet. The man was now off camera but she pulled him back, right in the angle of the camera before off swiping the knife she was wielding across his throat, resulting in a deadly wound before tossing the man aside like trash. She stored the knife in her pocket, wiping her hand on her cream too.

Dean and y/n's eyes widened, a look of terror on her face as Dean paused the video. His heart sank as they watched the video. He couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe what he was watching. Y/N just killed a hunter in cold blood, and it was on video. He refused to believe it was in cold blood. Y/N's face had heartbreak written all over it as Dean tried to recollect his thoughts.

-

Y/N was still sitting at the desk, reading a letter that the man's daughter wrote for him. "How do you erase this, huh?" Dean asked her urgently, but she refused to answer. "Y/N, come on. I need your help" Dean said harshly as he tapped her shoulder gently as he crouched by the computer's case, "I killed him, charming" She whispered, "I just broke in and killed him" She croaked, tears welling up in her eyes.

Dean's heart broke upon hearing her tone and seeing the tears in her eyes. "Listen to me, princess." he said gently, getting up to lean across from her at the desk. He reached over to tuck a lock of hair away from her face. "Whoever this guys is, he's a hunter. Which means that other are gonna come looking for his killer. Which means we gotta cover our tracks, okay?" Dean said firmly but y/n's expression remained stoic.

"His name was Steve Wandel. This is a letter from his daughter" Her voice cracked as she handed Dean the letter. She took a deep breath, exhaling hard as Dean clenched his jaw before moving back over to the computer case, picking up it up and crashing it into the floor. Y/N flinched at the sudden destruction, watching as Dean took his anger out on the computer. Driving his combat boot covered foot into it over and over.

He turned back to her, his jaw grinding before tossing her a cloth from his jacket. "Wipe your prints. Then we go" He ordered her firmly.

________________________________

Now back at a motel, y/n practically stumbled in, pure horror on her face as Dean shut the door behind them. He was beyond worried about what the hell was going on, but all he cared about was that she was okay and no one was gonna find that video. "Alright, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror. We'll meet up with Sam after" Dean said as he tossed his bag on his bed. Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose as she took a deep breath.

"Look, I know this is bad, okay? But you gotta snap out of it" Dean said firmly, but y/n didn't answer, her back turnt to him. "Y/N, say something!" Dean exclaimed, a twinge of desperation in his voice. Y/N faced Dean, "We should get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder. Dean. That's what I did"She stated in a gruff tone, her hands residing on her hips. "M-maybe, okay? Hey, we don't know- Shapeshifter" Dean suggested, causing y/n to roll her eyes.

"Oh, come on. You know it wasn't. You saw the tape. There was no eye glare, no distortion" She scoffed pacing the room, "Yeah, but it wasn't you! Alright?" Dean argued as she narrowed her eyes at him. "I mean, it might have been you, but it wasn't you" He shook his head, refused to believe it as he stepped closer to her. "Well, I think it was" She said in a low tone before settling on her bed. Deans heart ached for her, sympathy etched on his face.

"I think maybe more than you know" She whispered, burying her head in her hands. "What the hell does that mean?" Dean grunted, his tone pained. "For the last few weeks, I've been having...I've been having these feelings" She began, "Y/N, you always get feelings. It's how we solve half our cases" Dean scoffed, "Not like that Dean!" Her head snapped up as she growled, her tone surprising him.

"What feelings?" He asked shakily, inching towards her before settling in the bed next to her. "Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it" She explained, not daring to look at him. "It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse" She whispered shakily, "You never told me this" Dean said softly, "I didn't wanna scare you or Sam" She admitted, taking a deep breath glancing up at Dean, her eyes connecting with his.

His heart sank as y/n spoke, and he shifted slightly closer to her on the bed, their knees barely touching. It was breaking Dean hearing her speak like this. He couldn't believe what she was saying, it felt so far from the y/n that he knew. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her, tell her things were going to be alright. "Why...Why would you think I'd be scared?" He asked tentatively as he shifted to sit closer to her.

"Because the Yellow-Eyed Demon, you know he has plans for me and Sam. And we both know he's turned other children into killers before too" She explained but her cut her off. "No one can control you, but you. And that isn't gonna happen to you or Sam" He stated firmly. "It sure doesn't seem like that Dean. Maybe it isn't the same with Sam, but it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely...I'm- I'm just becoming-"

"What?!" Dean scoffed, "Who I'm meant to be!" Y/N retorted. Dean chuckled humorlessly at this, shaking his head as he got up from besides her, beginning to unpack his back. "You said it once before, Dean. I gotta face up to who I am!" Y/N shot up from the bed, her tone defensively. "I didn't mean this!" Dean shouted back. "But it's still true, you know that!" Y/N argued, her voice raising as she paced over to him. "John knew that too. That's why he told you, if it ever came to this-"

"Shut up, Y/N!" Dean snapped, causing her to flinch. His face dropped, immediately feeling back for snapping at her, "Dean, you promised him. You promised me and Sam." Her voice dropped, "No. Listen to me" He began in a firm tone, "We're gonna figure this out, okay? I mean, there's gotta be a way, right?" He offered her a soft smile, "Yeah, there is" She responded sadly before reaching to the rear of her jeans to pull out her revolver.

She took his hand into her, shoving her gun in it, "I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you." Dean froze, his heart pounded against his chest as she placed the gun in his hand. His grip tightened around the gun, not wanting to believe she was actually asking him to do this. He swallowed hard, "You won't." He said firmly, "Whatever this is, you can fight it" He assured her as she allowed her tears to fall from her eyes and down her cheek.

Looking at her standing there in front of him, tears streaming down her face and a look of anguish plastered on her face broke his heart. "No, I can't. Not forever." She shook her head with a tight tearful smile. "You gotta do it" She added firmly, her voice breaking her as she held back sobs. But Dean didn't move, she then roughly took Dean's hand that had the gun and pressed it to her chest.

"Please, Dean. I don't wanna be this" She breathed out heavily, a new wave of tears coming up as she begged. Dean stood paralysed, his heart rate quickening as he tried to process what was happening. But he knew this was what she wanted, even if he didn't want her to. "Y/N...I can't" He whispered softly, shaking his head as his own eyes welled up. "You have to!" Y/N pleaded, gripping onto Dean's hand that held the gun, pressing it further into her chest.

"You know, I tried so hard to keep you and Sam safe" Dean croaked, his lip quivering. "I know" Y/N nodded through her tears, offering him a sweet tearful smile as her breathing quickened. Dean's eyes went from the gun place on her chest and back to her eyes. "I can't" he repeated in a choked voice, pulling his hand away roughly from hers before tossing the gun on the bed. "I'd rather die." His voice broke.

Y/N gritted her teeth as Dean walked away from her, his back facing hers. She rolled her eyes frustration at Dean's refusal before, picking up the gun again before turning to Dean. His face hardened, trying to mask his emotion and tears that were ready to burst from his eyes as he turned to her. Y/N took a deep breath before taking her hand into his, closing the gap between them.

Her lips ghosted over his. Dean felt his heart pound against his chest as Y/N's lips hovered over his. Her body was flush against his, and the sensation of her warm breath on his lips made his heart throb in his chest. "W-what are you-?" Dean stuttered. His breath hitched in his throat as she gripped his shirt and pulled his body even closer against hers. Her lips were just barely touching his, the tips of their noses brushing against each other.

He was torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to pull her closer. He could feel her body pressed up against him, stirring up a mix of conflicting emotions. Their faces were so close that he could feel the heat radiating off of her, and her scent was filling his senses. Despite his resolve, he couldn't help but melt into her touch, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist.

She brought her left hand up to caress his cheek, Dean leaned into her touch like he always would but something didn't feel right about it. "Y-Y/N..." He managed to stutter out, his voice low and gravelly. "Y/N....we talked about this" Dean choked out forcefully but Y/N didn't respond, her lips were parted a slightly as she gazed at his. Dean's heart was pounding against his chest, he wanted desperately to lean in and kiss her.

His mind was racing with emotions, and he tried to pull away but Y/N gripped his shirt tighter. She gently shushed him, her eyes holding a mixture of longing and determination. Her hand moved to the back of his neck, her fingers running through his hair. Her fingers felt like electric shocks against his skin, making his body shiver involuntarily.

"You'll live, baby..." She assured him in a soft tone. Her tender words and the way she called him 'baby' sent a pang through his chest. He didn't want to listen to her, but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to move away from her. He closed his eyes, trying to focus away from the feel of her body against his, but he couldn't shake off the dread building up in his heart.

Y/N smirked wickedly at him, "Yeah....You'll live to regret this" She said in a dark tone before swiftly pistol whipping Dean across his face. Knocking the elder Winchester out cold, his body fell to the ground with a hard thud to the ground as Y/N stood above him, a dark grin on her face. She then turned to the mirror, her eyes flashing black, "Mirror, mirror on the wall..." Meg mocked her in a jeering tone.

Meg, with y/n's voice, cackled darkly with a smirk on her face as she stepped closer to the mirror. "Who is the baddest of them all?" She finished snidely. Y/N felt the sickening feeling wash over her as she witnessed everything take place through her own eyes, she tried desperately to fight off the possession but nothing worked. Nothing. She was hopeless as Meg exited the motel room in her, leaving an unconscious Dean inside.

-

The next morning, a loud knocking at the door woke Dean up. Groaning, Dean slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head where he was hit. "What the fuck?" He muttered groggily before himself pushing up. Keys rattled behind the door, it opened to reveal the motel manager, "It's past your checkout" The manager informed him as he rubbed his head. The throbbing from the pistol whip intensifying.

"What?" Dean groaned, disoriented and confused. "It's past check out and I have a couple here who needs your room" The manager informed him, Dean glanced outside to see an older man and a younger blonde woman who was dressed quite provocatively, "Oh yeah, I bet they do" He commented, "What time is it?" He asked urgently, checking his watch. "Twelve thirty" The manager informed him, losing his patience.

"The woman who was with me, have you seen her?" Dean asked the manager urgently, "Yeah, she left before dawn in your car and you should've gone with her because now I'm gonna have to charge you extra" The manager stated in a gruff tone. "Oh, son of a bitch" Dean muttered in frustration at the fact that he has no transport out of her. "That's just policy, sir" The manager stated, "I need you use your computer" Dean said quickly, rubbing his head. "Why would I let you use my computer?" The manager scoffed.

-

The manager was now counting the ten $10 bills that Dean gave him in order to use his computer as Dean sat behind the computer, the landline pressed to his ear, calling 'A-Line Mobile Phone Services.' Within a few seconds, someone answered, "Hi, uh, so sorry to bother you, but, uh, my...little sister, snuck out of the house last night to and, uh, went to a Justin Timberlake concert. An- What?" Dean came up with the first lie on his mind but was cut off by the amused response of the responder.

"What?" He muttered, "Yeah, Justin is quite the triple threat.." He furrowed his brows at this. "Uh, anyway, so, she's not back yet, and I'm starting to worry." Dean stated in a worried tone, "Right, teenage girls will be teenage girls" Dean chuckled, "But see, y/n/n, is a, uh, a diabetic and, uh, if she doesn't get her insulin- then I just- I have to find him. My parents left me in charge, man. I'm scared something happened to her"

"Please, I'm begging you" Dean pleaded, "Yeah, no, no, no, I'm on the website right now. I just need to activate the GPS on her cell phone" He said, relief soaring through his chest as he typed in y/n's number on the computer in the website and her location popped up. "Yeah, right there. Duluth, Minnesota...Yeah, that is a long way to go for a concert. I appreciate your help" Dean thanks the responder before handing up.

________________________________

Duluth, Minnesota

Y/N pulled into a parking spot, outside the bar where Jo worked. She got out of the impala and entered the bar, she quickly spotted her bike outside of the bar. She tilted her head in confusion before shrugging it off and making her way into the bar. The last customer was just leaving, "Goodnight, thank you" Jo's tired voice said.

Y/N cleared her throat behind Jo, who's back was turnt to her, "Sorry, we're closing up" Jo informed her, "How bout just one for the road?" Y/N said offering her a small smile. Jo turned around, her expression softening as she recognised that it was y/n. "Oh my god, y/n!" Jo gasped, quickly walking over to her. "Where the hell you been?" She demanded lightly, pulling her into a tight hug.

Y/N was surprised by this, excepting her to be a bit more hostile. She chuckled as she returned the hug. "How did you know I was gone?" She asked Jo confused as she pulled away, causing the younger hunter to blush a bit lightly. "I- uh...Sam told me, he was just by here" Jo responded with a small shrug and it dawned on her.

So that's why Quinn was outside the bar, Sam took it to come see Jo....huh, and he's always on about how her 'death machine' scares him.

"So that's why you're being nice to me?" Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, a sly grin on her face as Jo moved around the bar to get her a beer. Compared to their last interaction, she was expecting Jo to be a bit more hostile. "Of course not.." Jo muttered in denial as she set the beer down in front of her, avoiding eye contact as she busied herself with cleaning the bar. A light chuckle escaped y/n's lips as she picked up her beer and sat down at the bar.

"You're a shitty liar" Y/N teased with an amused grin as Jo's shoulders drooped lightly in defeat. "So...you and Sam?" Y/N quirked her brows, her tone suggestive. "Oh-I- uh.." Jo's face turned a darker shade of red as she sputtered out, feeling heat pool in her face as a shy smile made its way onto her face. "No....You and Dean?" Jo returned the question with a sly grin.

Y/N raised her eyebrows at the question, feigning shock, "Me and Dean?!" She questioned in mock shock. "No way" She said with a scoff before taking a swig of beer. Jo smirked at this, shaking her head. "So, how'd you find me?" Jo asked. "Sam told me that you were here, don't know if he told Dean" Y/N responded with a shrug.

"Speaking of him, where is Dean?" Jo asked curiously as she leaned against the bar counter. "He couldn't make it." Y/N said quickly, "I'm just glad to see you're okay" Jo offered her a small smile, "And I'm glad to know you're not totally mad at us...since..." Y/N trailed off as Jo's face dropped. She decided to change the subject, "So, where's Sam?" She scanned the bar with her eyes.

Jo's smile returned again at the mention of the younger Winchester. "Oh, he left" She said, trying to keep her tone as casual as possible, "Went to get food about half hour ago" She explained, the shy smile returning to her face. "So, it's just you and me here?" Y/N asked in a low tone, her eyes trailing up Jo's body as she took her jacket off.

Jo's brows furrowed at her tone, her eyes flickered to what looked like a branding on y/n's arm. It was a small circle with a line through its radius, seared into the flesh on her forearm. "That looks like it hurts" Jo commented. Y/N went on edge as soon as she noticed it, covering it up with the sleeve of her flannel and a nervous chuckle. "No. No, just...had a run in with a hot stove" She chuckled, brushing it off.

"Look, Jo..." She began, cleaning her throat, "I actually came here to square things up" Y/N said in a sympathetic tone, leaning forward. "We didn't exactly part on the best terms, and it's nice to see that you and Sam made up...but I still feel bad, you know?" Jo looked surprised at her words, taken a back for a moment. She smiled at y/n in appreciation, "That's really sweet of you" Jo breathed out, a hint of relief washing over her.

"But, you really don't have to do that" Jo started, shaking her head. "I'd be lying if I said I'm not harboring some kind of resentment, but I'm trying...let's just forg-" Y/N cut her off, "No, Jo. Please, listen to me" She pleaded as she reached forward, grabbing Jo by the wrist and pulling her closer, forcing the younger girl to lean over the bar.

Jo immediately felt something off at this, "I know how you feel about John and my dad, and I can't say I blame you...they were obsessed." Y/N shook her head with a scoff, "Consumed with hunting. And they didn't care who got caught in the crossfire..and I guess that included your dad" She said sympathetically.

"But that was my father and John. That's not me" Y/N assured her, "And what about Sam?" Jo asked timidly. Y/N's demeanor changed, a scoff escaping her throat, "Boy, you're really carrying a torch for him, aren't you?" Y/N chuckled bitterly, pulling away as Jo made her way around the bar, leaning against it, across from y/n. Jo was baffled by her change in tone, "Excuse me?" Jo scoffed offended. "I'll take that as a yes" Y/N snorted.

"It's too bad. Because see, Sam, he likes you, sure...but not in the way you'd want" Y/N said in almost a mocking tone. "What are you getting at?" Jo demanded, her eyebrows furrowing as she stared at y/n in confusion. It made her blood boil at her sly smirk and knowing tone, she could practically feel the hostility seeping of her. "Sweetie, I'm sorry to put it like this. But Sam might just see you as a booty call."

Jo's jaw dropped at this, disbelief etched across her features. The comment made her cheeks burn hot with rage, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "That...we haven't even-" She started, struggling to get her words out through the anger bubbling up inside of her. "You shut your mouth!"

"You think because he came here to see you that you mean something to him?" Y/N shook her head, chuckling, sipping her beer. "I'm just telling you the truth, I'm not trying to hurt you, Jo. I'd- I'm telling you because I care" She added in a faux-sympathetic tone. "You're lying." Jo shot back, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. She took a step forward, closing the gap between them.

"Sam cares about me. He's my friend. He would never use me!" She defended. "You've known each other, all of what? Two seconds?" Y/N chuckled darkly, shaking her head in amusement. "I've known him my whole life" Jo's eyes narrowed to slits at Y/N, "You know? You're the last person I expected to be such a bitch" She growled at her. "Just trying to look out for you, that's all" Y/N snickered, the smirk on her face only infuriating to Jo more.

She then grabbed Jo's arm a bit roughly. "I'm just telling you, because I see more to you than just a hot piece of ass, Jo..." She caressed Jo's arm as she spoke, her tone filled with lust. "I could be more to you" Y/N said suggestively, her eyes trailing down Jo's body as she tugged her bottom lip into her mouth. It took a few seconds for Jo to realise exactly what Y/N was implying here, her eyes going wide as she slowly took in her words.

This was not the y/n she knew, "Maybe you should leave" Jo seethed through her teeth. "Okay" Y/N simply said, her eyes darkening as Jo snatched her arm away. Y/N pushed herself off the barstool she was sitting on. Jo turned away from her, exhaling deeply at the sudden change in behavior from her. She was caught off guard when Y/N suddenly grappled her, spinning her around to face her as she held Jo in place.

"Y/N, get off me! Y/N, get off me! Let go!!" Jo tried to fight her off, screaming as y/n held her in place. Tilting her head back in a tight grip, "Jo, Jo, Jo" Y/N mocked her, running her nose along the nose of her neck. Jo attempted to reach for the beer bottle to smash it against Y/N's head but she snatched Jo's arm, rearing her arm back, driving the beer bottle into counter, shattering it. Y/N then spun Jo around, holding her in a headlock as she attempted to fight out of her grip.

Screaming and whimpering, but y/n was by far stronger. "Y/N, no, no, no, please! Please! I'm your friend, please!" Jo pleaded, panting as she gripped her blonde locked between her fingers. Y/N tugged at her hair before driving her head into the counter, knocking her unconscious and limp into her arms before holding up her body. Cradling her weight, then lifting her onto the counter.

"It didn't have to be this way..." Y/N said in a low tone as she brushed Jo's hair away from her face, "..or maybe it did" She chuckled darkly.

________________________________

Meanwhile, Sam was just leaving the diner he went to get food for him and Jo. His phone then started vibrating in his pocket. Sam balanced the food boxes in one hand as he pulled his phone from his pocket, seeing Dean's name on the screen. He answered the call, "Hey, how is she?" Sam asked immediately, concerned about y/n. "We need to talk" Dean voice immediately caused a chill to run down the back of his neck.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked concerned, "Dude, I think Y/N's possessed. She has to be" Dean rambled, "What? How-what-" Sam sputtered, feeling his heart rate increase, as he stopped in his tracks. Dean gave Sam the full rundown of the events of what happened in their motel room, the younger Winchester's jaw was practically resting on his shoes as Dean explained what she did.

"Where the hell are you!? She's in Duluth, Minnesota at some bar. I'm heading there now." Sam's blood ran cold, the boxes slipped from his grip. Almost dropping his phone in the proceed, his heart pounding out of his chest. He had told y/n where Jo was, of course he told her, he told her almost everything. "Fuck!" Sam exclaimed. "I'm here. I'm on my way." Sam said urgently, hanging up and breaking out into a run.

________________________________

Back in the bar, Y/N gently placed the record only the player, 'The Doors by The Crystal Ship' now playing on the jukebox as she propped an unconscious Jo up to a pillar, pressing her back against it as she bounded her wrists around it. Jo slowly began to regain consciousness, winced from the throbbing pain in her head. "What the fuck is going on? What are you doing?" Jo grunted, wincing from the pain as y/n tightened her bounds.

"So, what exactly did your mom tell you about how your dad died?" Y/N whispered in a low smug tone. "You're not Y/N" She gritted her teeth. Y/N smirked, "Don't be so sure about that, sweetie. Answer the question" Y/N peered behind her, over her shoulder but Jo refused to answer. Y/N sighed deeply before pulling a stool to sit right infront of Jo. "Come on..." She held up a knife to Jo's face, "..It's me. You can tell me anything, you know that" She whispered.

"Answer.The.Question" Y/N gritted her teeth impatiently. "Fine" Jo huffed, "Fine" Y/N smiled widely, sliding the sharp knife gently over the bump from the head butt she gave Jo, moving some of hair hair away as Jo glared at her. "Our dads were in California. Devils Gate Reservoir. They were setting a trap for some kind of hellspawn. John was hiding, waiting. And my dad was bait" Jo grunted reluctantly as Y/N listened intently before chuckling darkly.

"That's just like John and F/N" She shook her head, propping her hand on her chin as she smiled. "Oh, I bet they dangled Bill like meat on a hook" She laughed as Jo glared at her. "Then what?" She asked curiously, getting up to move around the pillar. "Then the thing showed up. They got too eager, jumped out too soon. Got my dad exposed out in the open...the thing turned around...and killed him" Jo explained tearfully, hating the fact that she had to talk about this again.

"Hmmm, not quite" Y/N mocked, sighing as she leaned against the pillar. "What?" Jo's brows knitted together in confusion. "What? Oh-" Y/N feigned confusion, "You see, it hurt him. It didn't kill him" She giggled sadistically as Jo remained silent, in disbelief. "You really don't know the truth, do you?" Y/N chuckled at Jo's expression. "I bet your mom doesn't either" She added in a malicious tone.

"Know what?" Jo snapped, "You see, Bill....was all clawed up" Y/N began, her voice low as she brushed her lips against Jo's ear, a slither of fear, disgust and fear running down her spine as the hunter spoke of her father. "He was holding his insides in his hands..he was gurgling and...praying to see you and Ellen one more time" Y/N explained as tears spewed from Jo's eyes.

"So John...killed him. Put him out of his misery like a sick dog" Y/N said in a faux-sympathetic tone, a wicked grin on her face as she pulled away from Jo. "You're lying" Jo growled, refusing to believe that it's true. "I'm not. It's true" Y/N pressed, doubling over to lean down infront of Jo, her hands residing on her knees as she taunted the young hunter.

"Sam's daddy shot your daddy in the head" Y/N taunted in a sing-song tone. "How could you know that?" Jo snapped, shaking her head as the malicious smile returned to Y/N's face. "I hear things" Y/N responded simply before stabbing the large knife she was tracing Jo's features with into the pillar, right above Jo's head. "Why are you doing this to me?" Jo grunted, tugging at her bindings.

Y/N chuckled, fishing a long cloth out of her jeans pocket. "Like daddy, like daughter. You're bait. Open up" She wickedly smiled as she gagged Jo with the rag. "That's a good girl" She taunted again, tying the cloth around the back of her head, her chin residing at the top of Jo's head. The sound of the bar door opening made Y/N's ears perk up, she quickly pulled the knife from the pillar.

"Y/N!", Sam and Dean shouted as they barged in, guns pointed towards Y/N, "I begged you to stop me, Dean!" Y/N screamed back at them, pressing the knife to Jo's throat. Sam's heart fell from his chest, "Put the knife down, dammit!" Sam demanded but his words came out more like a plea, gripping his gun. "I can't fight it!" Y/N shouted. "My head feels like it's on fire, alright?! I know you feel it too, Sam!" Their hands shook as they aimed their guns at her.

"Sam, Dean. Kill me or I'm gonna kill here" Y/N warned the boys, pressing the knife harder against Jo's throat, causing her to whimper. "Please, you'll be doing me a favor" She pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes. The Winchesters exchanged a look at her words, "Shoot me, fellas." She sucked in a deep breath as the boys had their own tears welling up in their eyes.

Retracting the knife from Jo's throat, she left out a breath she didn't know she was holding as Y/N opened her arms wide. "Shoot me!" She demanded as she stared into the barrels of their guns, "No, y/n/n. Come on" Dean pleaded as they both shook their heads, lowering their guns. Sam turned away, swiftly taking out a flask of holy water from his jacket. Glaring as y/n as she moved closer to Dean, her back to Sam, unscrewing the cork.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?!" Y/N bellowed before pushing Dean roughly, "Are you that scared to be alone that you'd rather let Jo die?!" She growled as Dean stumbled, he clenched his jaw as she turned to face his brother, "You'd rather let your little girlfriend die than kill me?!" She shouted at Sam, who tossed the holy water on his face, causing her to hiss in pain, the water sizzling on her skin.

Dean did the same, taking out his own flask, "That's holy water you demonic bitch!" Dean growled, drenched her with the holy water as she wailed from the pain, backing up into the pillar. She sneered at them, smoke pouring from her skin, her eyes flashing black at the Winchester before hauling ass out of the bar. Crashing her body through the glass window. Sam quickly took up the knife that y/n dropped when he and Dean were drenching her with holy water.

Cutting Jo from her binds as Dean ran towards y/n. "She was possessed?!" Jo exclaimed after she took off the rag from her mouth. Sam nodded as he pulled Jo into his arms, a shaky breath leaving his mouth as he held her. "Hey... are you okay?" Sam looked down at Jo, checking for any signs of injury. "I think I'm okay.." Jo replied tiredly, leaning against Sam. "Okay, stay here" Sam instructed her, taking his gun out of his pants.

"I'm coming with you" Jo insisted. "No, you need to stay here." Sam responded sternly. "...Please" He pleaded, flashing her his puppy dog eyes. Jo sighed in defeat, reluctantly nodding. "Fine.. but be careful." "I will, I promise." Sam reassured her before giving her a quick kiss on her forehead, relieved to see she's okay before following behind his brother.

-

They followed Meg to a warehouse, the shuffling of her footsteps echoing through it as they creeped with their guns. The two saw her bend a corner not to far from them, both aiming their guns in the direction before sharing a look. They saw her head peer out from behind a large stock, but she quickly ducked. "So, who are you?" Dean asked, his voice echoing. "I got lots of names" Meg grunted as they creeped around.

"You been y/n since she disappeared, haven't you?" Sam asked, nudging his head in a direction, indicating to his brother that he heard her voice come from there. Dean nodded, taking the lead, "You should've seen your face when you thought she murdered that guy. Pathetic" Meg mocked him, "Why didn't you kill me?! You had a dozen chances" Dean shouted, both him and Sam ducking behind a large stock as she picked up an old beer bottle, tossing it in the other direction.

Their heads snapped over to the direction of the cluttering in the distance, "Nah, that would've been too easy. Where's the fun in that?" She chuckled as the boys eyes went wide, "See, this was a test. I wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Y/N. I should've known you wouldn't have the sack" She taunted Dean.

"I was gonna hop into you Sammy boy...I've always wanted to get up in that body of yours" She added with a sinister giggle. This made Sam groan in disgust as Dean's face contort to horror at the sound of the demon saying that in y/n's voice, "God, kill me now" Sam muttered, bracing his back against the stock, earning a glare from his brother as his choice in words. "Anyway, funs over now boys"

"Yeah, well I hope you got your kicks. Because you're gonna pay hell for this. I'm gonna make sure of that" Dean retorted. "How? You can't hurt me, not without hurting your little girlfriend" She mocked him. "See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find." She threatened, Dean put away his gun as Sam kept his, aiming it around the room as Dean reached into his jacket, taking the flask of holy water out again.

Quietly unscrewing the cork as she continued, "One look into Y/N's dewey sensitive eyes. And you, and they'll let me right in their door." With that, she made her way out the back door of the warehouse. Sam and Dean saw her shadow exit, both sharing a look before quickly following behind her. Dean pushed the door open, Sam aiming his gun outwards.

The two pressed their bodies to the wall leading out to the pier. Their eyes scanning the surroundings for Y/N. "I don't see her" Dean muttered lowly. "Neither do I" Sam whispered back, "Fuck!" Dean hissed. The brothers began walking down the pier, carefully maneuvering themselves from being seen. They kept looking around, searching every nook and cranny. Both now standing at the edge of the pier, looking down towards the water.

A shot rang out behind them, the bullet from her y/n's gun hitting Sam directly in the back of his right shoulder blade. "SAMMY!" Dean instantly turned towards his brother, his eyes widened in shock as Sam fell into the water at the edge of the pier. Y/N stood a few yards away from them, revolver in her grasp, grinning madly. Without hesitation, y/n raised her gun again, aiming at an unarmed Dean. But the bullet only grazed his shoulder.

So to aid to the act, Dean threw himself into the water. The brothers hid just below the surface of the rippling water. Their muscles ached from being tense and their bones shivered from the bitter cold. They stayed submerged under the water, holding their breaths as best they could.

She slowly began walking over to the spot where they went in. She looked down at the water, searching for any sign of them. But it was a black abyss in the night, the moon only gave so much light in the dark. She smirked to herself, believing the both brothers to be gone.

Staying underwater, Dean slowly looked over at his brother who was floating just beside him. Their eyes met under the water, Sam giving a nod as if he was reassuring his brother. Dean returned a nod, hearing her footsteps descend on the wooden pier.

________________________________

After Sam didn't return, Jo went looking for him. Her light shining through the dark warehouse as she pressed her phone to her ear. "This is Sam, leave a message" Sam's voicemail said before beeping. "Damn it Sam!" Jo huffed at hearing the tone. She hung up before stuffing her phone away. Pushing the back door open, the night air instantly hit her skin. She went to take a step forward before stopping, hearing grunting from the end of the pier.

She quickly began to jog down the pier, her boots clinking against the wooden surface. Sam laid flat on his back, gripping his shoulder as Dean pressed a wet cloth to his bullet wound. "What the-!" Hearing her, Dean looked up, eyes widened in shock, seeing Jo approach them, her face full of distress and concern.

"What the hell happened?!" she exclaimed crouching down besides Sam. Quickly taking off her dry jacket, replacing the wet cloth on Sam's shoulder with her jacket to add pressure to the wound. Sam whimpered quietly as Jo applied pressure to his shoulder; the pressure made his body cringe, the stinging of the wound still fresh, feeling as if it was throbbing with each heartbeat.

"Where's y/n?" Dean asked urgently, wrapping Sam's unwounded arm around his shoulder, helping him to his feet. "I don't know, I've been looking for you guys" She responded, trying to help Dean steady Sam's weight. The three of them began to make their way back up the pier, the water dripping from the boys' clothes as they went. Sam's teeth were practically chattering together.

-

Now back at the bar, Sam grunted continuously as Jo dug around in his shoulder for the bullet. "Alright! Got it, got it" Jo cheered as she held a small silver bullet in her hand with a pair of tweezers, dropping it into the shot glass with rubbing alcohol as Sam chugged from the bottle of whiskey. Standing off to the side, leaning against the bar, Dean grumbled under his breath as he watched his injured little brother writhing in pain.

His mind was swarming, worried about Y/N. "There" Jo spoke up. "God, you're a butcher" He groaned, resting the bottle down on the table. "You're welcome" Jo retorted with equal sass. "Fuck this" Dean growled, moving to leave the bar, clutching his grazed arm that was still dripping with blood. "Whoa whoa whoa!" Sam called out, grabbing his brother's undamaged arm stopping him in his tracks.

"Just give Jo two minutes to patch you up, we can't help y/n if we're bleeding to death" Sam snapped. "Like I give a damn!" Dean roared, turning around. His eyes were bloodshot from his rage and worry. His breathing coming in short bursts as he fought to keep down his emotions of anger and worry. But Sam being Sam wasn't going to back down just because his brother was angry. Instead, he pushed through the pain, keeping ahold of Dean's arm.

"I know, alright! I want to find her just as much as you do, but we need to be smart about this" Dean scowled, he knew his younger brother was right. He always was, which seemed to piss him off even more. He clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath. After a moment, he finally relented, grumbling under his breath as he sat down next to Sam, "Be quick" The elder Winchester snapped.

"I'm trying" Jo snapped back, already grabbing a damp cloth, rubbing it across the grazed wound on Dean's arm. Dean gritted his teeth, holding back the groan of pain from the stinging of the wound as Jo continued to patch him up. "So, how did you guys know that she was possessed?" Jo asked as she dabbed Deans wound with rubbing alcohol, causing him to groan. "Ah! Uh, I didn't. I just knew that it couldn't have been her" Dean muttered, his eyes trained on his glass of whiskey as Jo gauzed his arm.

Jo nodded at this before turning to Sam, taking the gauze he had pressed to his shoulder off for him. "Hey, Sam?" Her voice was a bit shaky. "Yeah?" Sam responded, still wreathing in pain. "I know demons lie, but, do they ever tell the truth too?" She asked, going back to wrapping gauze around his wound. Sam winced, taking another swig from the bottle of whiskey he held. Sam thought for a second.

"Um...yeah, sometimes. I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head" He took another sip of the whiskey as Jo's face dropped, her heart plummeting. "Why do you ask?" He asked softly, noticing the look of despair on his face. "Nothing. It doesn't matter" She shook her head. Sam watched her for a moment, the look on her face made him even more worried, but when she didn't say anything for a moment.

He decided against asking and went back to nursing his wound with the bottle of whiskey. "So, do you guys have any idea where she's headed to next?" Jo asked, changing the subject. "Well, so far, she's been going after the nearest hunter, so, the closest one we know is in South Dakota" Dean explained, watching as Jo nursed Sam's wound. Jo nodded again, finishing up on Sam's wrappings.

"Okay, I'm done. Let's go" She said getting up along with Sam. Sam's brows shot up as Dean chuckled at this, "You're not coming" Dean grunted, "The hell I'm not, I'm a part of this now" Jo insisted, Dean rolled his eyes, looking over at his little brother for help. Sam sighed, he didn't want to argue, especially since his shoulder was pulsing in pain. "Jo, listen. It's not a good idea," Jo looked almost hurt by that, but she had some fire in her as she clenched her jaw together.

"I'm going. You guys can't stop me" She replied firmly as the brothers looked at each other before rolling their eyes. "Oh yeah?" Dean countered, rising to his feet. "That demon bitch inside your girlfriend told me that John killed my father that hunt. And I quote, put him out of his misery. So you're not stopping me, pal!" Jo argued with Dean, standing her ground.

Both the brothers' eyes widened in shock and disbelief at her words. This was the first time they had heard this, and it took them a moment for them to regain their composure. Sam, being the calmer of the two, spoke up first, "Wait, what?" Sam gasped, "What do you mean by 'put him out of his misery'?" Dean asked, his voice shaking slightly as he clenched his jaw, he was trying to hold back the anger that was building up.

Jo swallowed, tears welling up in her eyes as her hands resided on her hips. "Okay, come on. You can come" Sam said calmly, handing Jo the keys to Quinn.

________________________________

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Y/N knocked against Bobby's front door, the veteran hunter opening after a few seconds to reveal the young woman, greeting him with a sweet smile. "Y/N" Bobby chuckled surprised, pulling her into a hug. "Hey, Bobby" Y/N smiled into the hug, "It's been a while" He stated with a chuckle, "Yeah, we've been busy" She snorted. "Well, come on in" Bobby moved aside, allowing her in. Y/N nodded graciously as Bobby closed the door behind her.

"So, what brings you?" Bobby asked curiously as they walked into his study. "Working a job nearby and I thought I'd stop in to say hey" She responded casually, "Where's Sam and Dean?" Bobby asked, "Sam's probably holed up at a library and Dean is definitely holed up somewhere with a girl and a 12 pack" She snorted in amusement. "Oh yeah?" Bobby chuckled, moving over to the kitchen to get two beers.

"I'm sure she isn't as pretty as you, kiddo" Bobby commented sincerely, from the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge as her eyes flashed black. "Well, if you ask me, he's in way over his head" Y/N chuckled as Bobby re-emerged through the doorway, "Well, it's good to see you" He smiled at her, handing her a beer, holding up his beer. "To F/N and John" Bobby toasted. Y/N smiled sweetly as this, forcing tears to her eyes.

"To Daddy and John" She nodded, toasting with Bobby before bringing the mouth of the bottle to her lips. Bobby watched with narrowed eyes as y/n took a swig of the beer, immediately hissing and coughing when she did. Falling to the ground, the beer bottle slipping from her grasp. "What'd your do?!" Y/N grunted, gasping for breath. "A little holy water in your beer. Y/N never would've noticed"

"But then, you're not y/n, are you?" Bobby smiled smugly, watching the demon on the floor as she growled in anger, her body trying to fight off the holy water. "You bastard" She snapped, her eyes glowing black as she attempted to get to her feet but she was coughing harshly from the pain sizzling in her throat. "Don't try to con a con man" With that, Bobby reared his fist back.

Right hooking her across her face, knocking her unconscious with a heavy grunt. Y/N's body crashed down onto the floor, passed out. Bobby grunted, leaning down to examine her, feeling her pulse with two fingers. Satisfied that she wasn't going to stir anytime soon, Bobby stood up straight, looking down at her unconscious body. A sad look appearing on his face.

________________________________

The next morning, Y/N was now tied to a chair in the middle of Bobby's study. In the center of a devils trap, she was awoken with a harsh slap by Jo. "Hey!" She snapped. "Uh!!" Y/N grunted, her eyes opened quickly, glaring up at Jo. "Go easy on her, will ya?!" Dean growled at Jo. She rolled her eyes in return, Sam and Dean standing besides her as they stared down at y/n, who was glaring up at them with a nasty look on her face.

Her head tilted towards the ceiling, her eyes trained on the devils trap before looking back down at them in-front of her. "Sam, Dean...back from the dead?" Y/N panted. "I supposed I have you to thank for that?" Her eyes flickered to Jo. "That's right." Jo retorted with equal snark. Y/N gave her a fake smile. "Well...thanks" She responded with a sharp tone.

"It's getting to be a regular thing for you boys, isn't it? Like cockroaches, especially you, charming" She smirked at Dean. "You don't call me that" Dean snapped. She chuckled darkly, "Oh, charming, charming, charming" She taunted in a sing song tone. Dean's eye twitched at this, gritting his teeth as he clenched his jaw.

Sam shifted his weight, leaning against the table, folding his arms across his chest. Y/N's eyes moved to him then, a smirk appearing on her face as she raised an eyebrow, "Well, you look better, handsome" She commented. "I'm healing, thanks for noticing" He responded with slight sarcasm.

"How bout I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?" Dean growled. "Oh, careful now" She smirked, "You wouldn't wanna bruise this fine body...or maybe you would?" Sam and Jo shared a glance, hiding their growing smirks as Dean's face twisted with anger. "Shut up" Dean sneered, clenching his fist. She chuckled, "Hit a nerve?" She teased, cocking her head at him, "Aw, did I say something you didn't like?" She pouted, mocking him.

Dean's breathing was ragged, the veins in his head were popping out and Meg was loving every second of it. "Poor Dean and Y/N" She continued to taunt. "You two are like a bad romance novel" She snorted, throwing her head back with a laugh. "I'm going to rip that smart mouth right off your goddamn face" Dean snapped, his breathing was now coming in short bursts.

Y/N smiled sweetly, her head tilted to the side as she looked at him through her eyelashes, batting them at him. "Promises, promises" She crooned, her voice sickly sweet. "You wouldn't dare lay a finger on her, you're full of shit, baby" She called out his bluff, Dean smirked at her. "Don't worry. This isn't gonna hurt, Y/N" Sam chimed in, picking up a gallon of holy water, handing it to Jo.

"You on the other hand-" Jo started, before drenching her with some of holy water. Y/N screamed, thrashing against her restraints as she writhed in pain, grunting and gasping. "AHHHHH!" The holy water stung her skin as it hissed, sizzling against her body. Dean's instinct was immediate as he reached out, but then he stopped himself. "You feel like talking now?!" Dean growled.

"Your little bitch is still my meat puppet, I'll make her bite off her own tongue" She threatened as she thrashed her body in the bindings, her body trying to regurgitate the holy water she ingested. Coughing erratically. "No, you won't be in her long enough" Sam snapped at her. "Bobby" Jo turned to Bobby, her arms crossed over her chest. Bobby nodded opening his book with the exorcism incantation.

Sam and Jo stood over the demon, her breathing was labored from the pain, her eyes darting around the room, watching their every move as Bobby began chanting the incantation. "See, whatever bitch masterplan you demons are cooking up-" Dean began in a gruff angry tone as y/n tussled in the chair, wreathing in pain. "Ahh!!" She screamed.

"-you're not getting Y/N or Sam. You understand me?!" Dean got to her eye level, pressing his hands to his knees. "Fuck you, Dean!" Y/N retorted through gritted teeth, her breath coming in short gasps as she struggled against the pain. "I'm gonna kill everyone of you first!" Dean shouted in her face as she thrashed in pain before a maniacal laugh erupted from her throat. Bobby stopped his incantation abruptly.

Everyone watched y/n as she threw her head back, letting out another high pitched laugh, her eyes were filled with tears but not from pain, but from...amusement? Confusion rippled through the room as they all watched her laugh. "You really think that's what this is about? The master plan?" She scoffed, her breathing heavy. "I don't give a rats ass about the master plan" She grunted before the three looked at Bobby again desperately.

He started reciting the incantation again, but y/n tilted her head, a mad grin in her face. "Oops. Doesn't seem to be working" She giggled. Everyone's eyes widened as she said this, "W-What do you mean?" Sam asked in disbelief, Bobby stopped the incantation again, confusion written all over his face, as the room watched y/n intently. "See, I learned a few new tricks. I've learned how to control your girl's powers" Her eyes darkened before lowering her head.

She raised her head, "Taught myself a neat little spell" A slow, sinister smile appeared on her face, lowering her head again as she began to chant in Latin. Everyone exchanged nervous glances with each other, listening intently to the words y/n was speaking. The fireplace suddenly erupted as she said the spell, almost blasting Bobby. The house then started shaking as though an earthquake hit, papers from Bobby's desk flying around the room as the wind suddenly increased.

Sam quickly pulled Jo away from her, as she was standing the closest to her. "What's happening?!" Jo shouted over the noise, as papers fluttered around them, Dean looked towards Sam, "I-I don't know!" Sam responded equally panicked as the noise became louder and the wind stronger. "This isn't going like I pictured. What's going on Bobby?!" Dean shouted over the increasing noise as Sam gripped onto Jo.

Bobby quickly moved over to y/n, who's head was still down chanting the spell. His eyes flickered to her forearm, pulling down the sleeve to see the familiar symbol seared into her skin. Bobby's eyes widened immediately at the symbol, he looked at her face as the room began to shake violently. "Its a binding link! It's like a lock!" He warned, warned them. "It's locked itself inside of y/n's body!"

"What the hell do we do?!" Jo shouted. "I don't know!" Bobby screamed as Y/N tilted her head towards the ceiling, shouting, causing the ceiling to cave inwards, breaking the devils trap, rendering it useless. She grinned madly as Sam, Dean and Jo stare at her with wide eyes and fearful expressions. “There. That’s better” She flashes her eyes black before whipping her head in Bobby’s direction, sending him flying into the wall.

His back his a glass painting, everyone’s eyes widen in shock as Bobby crash landed against the wall, hitting it with a sickening thud, now knocked unconscious. Sam and Dean whipped their heads in her direction, their eyes hard and their jaws clenched together. “You son of a…” Dean mumbled under his breath as Sam and Jo rushed over to help up Bobby but, “Ah…Ah…ah…” She wagged her finger at them, stopping them from getting to their feet.

Dean watched in a mixture of horror as she stared down the two young hunters. She chuckled darkly, before she flicked her fingers, throwing Sam and Jo across the room, sending them crashing into the study desk.

She then flicked her fingers in Deans direction, sending him flying back against the wall, hitting it with a loud thump. Sam and Jo watched with horror as Dean grunted in pain while y/n ripped her arms out of the restraints. She stood up from her chair, cracking her neck and flexing her fingers as she padded over to Dean, standing over him as he groaned in pain, clutching onto his shoulder.

She flashed a sickeningly sweet smile down at him, “Deano” Her voice was sickly sweet as she watched him struggle against the wall. Dean looked up at her, his teeth gritted together. Dean grimaced in pain as he looked up at her, his eyes wide. He watched crouched infront of him, reaching out, brushing the back of her fingers against his cheek. He tried to move his head away but she firmly placed her hand on his jaw, keeping his head in place.

“You know when people wanna describe the worst thing possible? They say it’s ‘like hell’” She drew her fist back and punched Dean across his face. Dean’s head snapped hard to the side as her fist came into contact with his cheek, letting out a pained gasp, his skin immediately stung. Blood began to trickle down his cheek, down his jaw. He struggled to regain his breath as he winced, looking back up at her.

“Well hell is like uh…” She glared at him before drawing her fist back again, “UGH!” Dean grunted as she continued her attack on him. “Well, it’s like hell. Even for demons” She gritted her teeth at him before punching him again. Letting go of his jacket with a hard push against the wall, she paced over to Sam.

Sam and Jo looked up as she approached them, She leaned over Sam and Jo, her face contorted into a malicious smile. “Jo, Jo, Jo.” She said in a sweet voice as she looked down at Jo. “Why am I not surprised to see you? You’re just as stupid as your daddy was. So trusting of Winchesters and L/Ns” She cackled, kicking her across her face.

Sam’s heart raced as he felt the anger bubble up in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his jaw, “You shut your mouth” He grunted angrily, his hands clenching into tight fists at his side. “You’re lying!” Jo screamed. At the sound of Jo’s raised voice, y/n’s eyes flickered over to her, a snarl on her lips “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You’ll never know” said snarled before turning back to Sam.

“I gotta say Sammy, I was a bit jealous to hear about you and Jojo here” She bit her lip, crouching besides Sam. He narrowed his eyes up at her, the anger bubbling more in his stomach, along with his stomach churning from disgust. “Jealous? Why would you be jealous?” He asked her through clenched teeth as he continued to glare at her.

“You had quite a thing for me when I was in that perky little blonde, before you and your brother sent me back to hell” She growled before right hooking Sam. Sam felt the impact as she punched him hard across the face, his head snapping to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, his eyes widened in shock. “Meg” Dean groaned in realization from across the room.

“No, baby. Not anymore. Now I’m y/n” She winked as she reared her fist back again, right hooking the younger Winchester. A slow, evil smile spread across her face looked over at Jo. Snatching the young girl by her collar. Using her other hand, she pressed Sam to the ground with a force as she gripped Jo by her throat, her eyes shining black. Sam gasped as he was slammed down against the floor, his arms flailing as he tried to reach for something, anything to help him.

Bobby began to come to, watching from across the room, eyes widened, as he tried to think of a plan since Meg had seemingly forgotten about him. Dean was still stuck against the wall, his body rigid and tense with anger. “I-if you’re gonna kill m-me, at least tell me the truth” Jo gasped as she struggled in her grips. Y/N smirked at this, her grip on Jo’s throat tightened as she leaned down to her, “You really wanna know the truth?” She asked, her voice mockingly sweet.

Jo nodded quickly, desperation filling her voice as she stared back at her with fear in her eyes. “Johnny enjoyed killing your sack of a father” She grinned widely. A tear fell down Jo’s cheek as she began to cry, her mouth hanging open slightly in horror. “You’re lying” she managed to say in a whisper, tears streamed down her face.

“And your little boyfriend here knew” Her eyes flickered back down to Sam, slamming Jo’s back into the wall, knocking the wind out of her, before she snatched Sam by his collar. “By the way…” She smirked, digging her thumb into the bullet wound on his shoulder as Jo slid down besides them. Sam gasped in pain, gritting his teeth together as he shut his eyes. He struggled in her grip, groaning.

“..I saw your dad and f/n there. They say ‘howdy’” She taunted as she continued to press her thumb mercilessly into his injury, digging deeper. He let out another grunt in pain, unable to get out of her impossibly strong grip. “All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day. And that I was gonna torture you and your brother” She growled at Sam. Punching him across his face again.

She let him go, slamming him into Jo’s frail body. He slumped against the wall, gasping in pain, he felt Jo’s arms wrap around his shoulders as he opened his eyes to look up at her. Tears streamed down her face as she pulled him close, his head resting against her chest. “Shh, it’s okay” She comforted softly, running her fingers through his messy hair as Y/N before padded over to Dean.

Dean watched her approach him, panting from the excruciating pain from the recent blows he received. He gritted his teeth as she knelt in front of him, studying his face. “I’m gonna hurt your pretty face nice and slow, like pulling off wings of an insect” She growled, a nasty smile on her face as she right hook Dean again. “But whatever I do to you, it’s nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it?” She chuckled, “I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You’re worthless” She taunted as Dean panted for air.

“You couldn’t save your dads, and deep down…you know that you can’t save your brother or your bitch” She mocked him as Dean shook with anger and rage. “They’d have been better off without you. His heart shattered into a million pieces as she said these words. He knew it himself, he always had. But to hear it from her lips stung more than the physical pain he was feeling.

He felt the familiar burn of welling tears in the back of his throat, he gritted his teeth as he tried to stop them from falling. Dean’a eyes flickered behind y/n to see Bobby slowly approaching her, wielding a hot poker, he kept his mouth shut as she drew his fist back again but Bobby caught her arm.

Pressing the searing end of the hot poker to the binding link on her arm. Y/N screamed out in pain as her eyes widened, “N-NO!!” She yelled out, trying to jerk her arm away as Bobby kept a firm grip on her arm. She left hooked Bobby, struggling to her feet as her head tilting towards the ceiling as the black smoke from the demon protruded from her mouth.

Bobby was sent flying once again, his back hitting the wall with a loud thump. He groaned in pain, trying to straighten up as he watched her. Just as quickly as she was possessed, the demon flickered out, black smoke leaving her body, disappearing into a small cloud before vanishing up the fireplace as Y/N fell to the floor. “Ah” She groaned, frantically looking around as she gripped her burnt arm.

“Hey, Y/N?” Jo grunted, putting Sam’s weakened body aside, wiping the blood from her mouth as she crawled over to a disoriented Y/N. She looked besides her Jo as she made her way over to her, her vision hazy and unfocused, her head was spinning. “Jo?” She mumbled, her words slurred. Jo gritted her teeth before balling up her right fist, punching the now unpossessed Y/N square in her jaw.

Her head snapped to the side from the unexpected blow as she let out a loud yelp, her eyes widened in shock and pain as she gripped her cheek, bewildered. “What the fuck, dude?!” Dean shouted but y/n waved him off. “It’s alright, I deserved that” She groaned. Jo pulled y/n into a tight embrace. Y/N wrapped her arms around her, burying her face in the crook of her neck as her body shook. A small tear slipped out of the corner of her eye as the two girls held each other.

“I’m so s-sorry” Y/N croaked. “S-she was lying, Jo. Meg was lying” She whispered to Jo. Jo pulled back, placing a firm hand on y/n’s shoulder, “I know. I know” She consoled her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Y/N nodded, a shaky gasp escaped her lips as she tried to contain the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her. The guilt from everything was too much for her, she fought desperately to win her body back but it was a losing battle.

She trembled with the weight of the guilt, her body shook with it. She felt so many emotions simultaneously; guilt, shame, disbelief, anger, fear. But above all she felt defeated.

________________________________

Later, Sam and Dean were holding ice packs to their faces, sitting in Bobby’s study as Dean and Y/N sat across from Sam and Jo. “By the way, you really look like crap, Dean” Y/N muttered. Dean smirked at she hid the little smile on her face. “Yeah, well, right back at ya, princess” He retorted, wincing in pain as he talked. They were all tired, beaten and bruised, they looked like they’d been through hell. They sat in silence for a few moments before Bobby spoke up.

“You kids ever heard of a hunter named Steve Wandel?” Bobby asked, y/n’s heart dropped. “Why do you ask?” Dean grunted. “Just heard from a friend, Wandel’s dead. Murdered in his own house” Bobby informed them, his eyes flickering over to y/n as she looked down at her hands, glaring at them. Attempting to stop herself from tearing up.

Dean, Sam and Jo kept a stoic expression as Bobby noticed how her shoulders hunched forward and her body seemed to shrink into the chair. He could practically see the walls rebuilding themselves around her. “You wouldn’t know anything about that?” He raised a brow at them. “No, sir. Never heard of that guy” Dean lied firmly, shaking his head along with Sam and Jo. “Dean” Y/N piped up, her tone low, filled with guilt.

“Good. Keep it that way” Bobby said firmly to them, “Wandel’s buddies are looking for someone or something to string up. And they’re not gonna slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I’m saying, kids?” The veteran hunter said in a firm knowing tone to the four younger hunters. The three nodded quickly in response, “We hear ya, Bobby” Dean agreed on behalf of them all.

His eyes flickering to Y/N, who remained silent, her eyes still fixed on her hands in her lap. “Here’s, take this” Bobby handed Y/N a picture. “What is this?” Y/N asked confused. “It’s an anti possession sigil. Get it tattooed on you, it’ll fend off possession. You guys could use charms like I do, but I figured you’d want something more permanent” Bobby explained. Y/N studied the sigil, tracing her fingers over it.

“That demon’s still out there. That’ll stop it from getting back up in you” He added. “That sounds vaguely dirty, but thanks” Dean muttered, earning chuckles from Sam, Jo and Y/N. “You’re welcome” Bobby replied genuinely.

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Author’s Note: I’d suggest listening to Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood while reading this part hehe <3

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Y/N was outside of the salvage yard, leaning against the Impala, smoking a cigarette. She was waiting for Sam to finish up his shower so they could all go get their anti possession tattoos while Jo helped Bobby clean up, Y/N insisted on helping but Bobby told her to get some rest.

Dean stepped from the front door and leaned against the railing, his arms now crossed over his chest, he looked out at Y/N, a small frown formed on his face. The worry and concern coursing through him as his eyes focused on the stoic expression on y/n’s face, slowly bringing the cigarette to her mouth again.

-

Dean approached her quietly, a look of concern etched on his features as he leaned against the rail, mirroring her position against the Impala. He glanced at her, his gaze studying the stoicism that held her face captive, like a mask of indifference.

"You're quiet," he finally spoke, breaking the silence that had settled between them. There was a hint of both worry and curiosity in his voice, his eyes never leaving her. She took another drag of her cigarette, her stare fixated on the distance as if lost in thought. She let the smoke slowly escape her lips before replying, her voice cool and collected.

"Just thinking," she said, her fingers toying idly with the filter of the cigarette. His gaze remained on her, his eyes searching hers for some sign of what was going through her mind. He could usually read her like a book, but the silence and her detached demeanor were throwing him off.

"About what?" he asked, his tone gentle but laced with concern. “Everything” She sighed, her gaze flickering back down to her cigarette with guilt. “I was awake for some of it, Dean and I-….” Tears pricked at her eyes as she swallowed the lump in her throat harshly. “I watched myself kill Wandel with my own two hands. I saw the light go out in his eyes” She shook her head, bringing the cigarette to her lips again.

She took another long drag, her hands trembling slightly as the weight of her memories pressed down on her shoulders. “I remember what happened with Jo, everything I did to you and Sam…I remember knocking you out in that motel room” Her shoulders slumped as Dean's eyes softened, stepping closer, the distance between them slowly closing. "Sweetheart…it wasn't you. None of it was." he said firmly, his voice almost pleading with her to understand. "It was Meg, not you."

She averted her gaze again, a mix of shame and anger etched on her face as she flicked away her burnt out cigarette. "I know," she said, her voice betraying the vulnerability she was trying to conceal. "But that doesn't change the fact that it was my body, my voice, my hands that did those things."

His body betrayed him and he reached out, gently grasping her chin and turning her face towards him. His touch was soft yet firm, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're not to blame for what you did while you were possessed. If Jo can see that after you told her the truth about Meg lying, so can you..” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It's not your fault. You were a victim, not a monster."

The tears she had held back finally broke free, streaming down her face as she looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of despair and hope. "But I hurt people, Dean. I hurt Jo. I shot Sam…I hurt you." Her voice trembled, the guilt and regret she felt nearly suffocating her.

His heart clenched at her words, at the pain woven into every syllable. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. He tucked her head beneath his chin, holding her as if he could shield her from her own demons. "I know," he whispered, his voice full of understanding.

"But you gotta remember, it was the demon. You had no control over your actions," he repeated, his voice firm but gentle. "We all know that, and we don't blame you. You're not a monster. You're Y/N. You’re a sarcastic ray of sunshine. You're a good person who was taken advantage of by a damn demon."

She clutched onto him, her body trembling with the force of her tears. Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if she was afraid he might disappear. Dean’s hand gently caressed her hair as she let herself fully go. She buried her face against his chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fought to control her sobs.

He held her firmly against his chest, his arms like a protective shield around her. He could feel the tremors running through her body, and it pained him to see her like this, drowning in guilt and self-blame. But he knew he had to be the voice of reason, to make her understand that she wasn't to blame.

His hand moved to rub soothing circles on her back, trying to give her the same comfort she had given him countless times. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, his voice a low, soothing murmur against her hair.

As she cried into his chest, the weight of her guilt and shame slowly melted away from the kiss he laid at the top of her head. The rhythmic caress of his hand against her hair and the strong beat of his heart beneath her ear acted like a soothing balm, calming her troubled mind. She let herself sink into his protective embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding her. Slowly, her sobs quieted to soft, shaky breaths, her body growing still as she found solace in his arms.

As she pulled away slightly, her tear-streaked face met with the steady gaze of his eyes. There was no judgment, no anger, only a deep well of sympathy and understanding. The lines around his eyes softened as he looked at her, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing away the remaining traces of her tears.Her breath hitched slightly in her throat at this.

‘And if I may just take your breath away’

‘I don't mind if there's not much to say’

‘Sometimes the silence guides a mind’

‘To move to a place so far away’

Y/N slowly pulled away, wiping her tear stained cheeks. “Thank you” She croaked, sniffing as she patted her nose dry with the sleeve of her shirt. Dean kept a hand on her arm, a gesture of comfort and support. He brushed away a stray tear with his thumb, his eyes never leaving her face. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "I'm here for you, always."

‘The goosebumps start to raise’

‘The minute that my left hand meets your waist’

Y/N noticed a look of anguish in Dean’s eyes, her brows furrowing a bit. “What’s wrong?” She asked, concerned. “Nothing…I just um…I’m happy you’re okay” He said softly, leaning back against the Impala.

He was happy to know that their little…whatever that was…wasn’t the reason she disappeared and it was in-fact because a demon was holding her body hostage in possession. He couldn’t imagine what she had gone through.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on the turmoil beneath Dean's words. She knew him too well, and she could tell something was bothering him. "Don't give me that 'nothing' crap," she replied bluntly, her voice holding a mixture of annoyance and concern. "You're a terrible liar, Dean Winchester. Spill it."

Dean sighed heavily, burying his hands in his pockets. “I just…I thought you wouldn’t have wanted to see me since. Well…you know” Dean mumbled, biting his lip. After their altercation, they had been a little cold to each other. Y/N's expression softened as the memories of what Meg said and did to Dean was still fresh in her mind so she stepped closer to him, her hand coming up to gently touch his arm.

"You can’t honestly think that, charming" she said, her voice gentle yet firm. "Dean, you’re one of my best friends,” she insisted, taking her hand off of his arm. "Just because I was hurt and angry doesn't mean I'd suddenly stop wanting to see you, you moron" she shot back, though there was no heat behind her words.

She let out a soft sigh and shook her head. "If you think I'm just gonna ditch you because of one fight, you have no idea how much I actually care about you…fellas” She quickly recuperated at the end, her tone firm yet sincere.

Dean glanced up at her, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes before he smiled softly. The corner of his mouth curving into a half-smile. He shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know…it’s just…I thought you’d want some space, and I didn’t want to push you.”

The corner of her lip pulled up to form a lopsided smile which made his heart beat a little harder against his chest. He wasn’t sure if she was aware but her smiles and laughter were like honey to his ears. She had a way of making him feel like nothing was wrong in the world and it was only them.

As Y/N shook her head laughing. "Space? From you? Pfft, as if I could stay away from your annoying ass for too long. We're not gettin' out of this friendship that easily, buddy." She joked, nudging her shoulder with his.

Her laughter and the light-hearted tone of the conversation made him relax somewhat. But her mention of their friendship sent a small pang through his chest. Instead, he chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. You’d miss me too much" he retorted, grinning. “Don’t get cocky now, Winchester” She warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

He feigned a look of outrage, placing his hand over his heart as if she'd wounded him. "Cocky? Me? Never” he replied, his tone oozing with sarcasm.

Y/N rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Seriously, Dean. I wouldn’t just pack my bags and disappear on you” She assured with a small smile. Dean’s eyes slowly met Y/N’s, a wave of relief washed over him. “Glad to know I’m stuck with you, princess” He joked, his heart still hammering against his chest, his mouth going dry from the intense eye contact they were maintaining.

Y/N gulped, her own heart threatening to leave her chest. “Like you wouldn’t know what to do without me” She retorted, flipping her hair over her shoulders, giving him a teasing smirk. “Oh, I’ll be just fine” He retorted back, jokingly. Knowing damn well in reality, that week she wasn’t around. He didn’t know his head from his ass.

He nudged his leg with hers playfully as she scoffed at his arrogance. A playful gasp leaving her lips as Dean raised an eyebrow mockingly with a lopsided smirk on his lips. Her heart warmed at the fact that they bounced back to being buds, as much as it fucking hurt her inside out, she wouldn’t know what to do without him or Sam in her life either. But was she gonna admit that? Hell no.

“Another thing. No matter what I did. You wouldn’t shoot me.” Y/N piped up, her tone a bit angry. Dean seemed surprised by the sudden change of mood, but quickly recovered, “It was the right move, y/n. It wasn’t you” Dean defended. “Yeah, this time. What about next time?” She scoffed. Dean’s heart dropped, frozen from her statement.

“Y/N, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you and Sam…it was only if I couldn’t save you two” Dean began. “Now if it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna save you guys.” Dean said firmly, y/n didn’t answer. She just sighed, a twinge of admiration for Dean’s loyalty but she was worried he wouldn’t keep his promise.

Not wanting to go back to arguing, she just dropped the topic. He then began chuckling, earning a confused look from her. “What?” She asked confused, raising a brow at him, “Nothing,” Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Dean, what?” Y/N rolled her eyes, “Dude, you, like, full on had a girl inside you for, like, a whole week” Dean cackled, throwing his head back laughing.

Y/N was caught off guard by this, before a snort left her mouth, laughing along with Dean. “That’s pretty naughty, and kinda hot” Dean nudged her jokingly with his elbow, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Y/N scoffed, laughing even louder, smacking Dean in his arm.

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Meanwhile all this is going on, the sound of rushing water echoed through the small bathroom, the steam from the hot shower slowly filling the room. Sam Winchester stood under the spray, his head bent forward as the water cascaded down his back, washing away the dirt and grime, his fingers slightly grazing the bullet wound in his shoulder, causing him to wince.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the bathroom door disrupted the tranquility. "Yo Winchester! You better hurry your ass up, ‘cause I've got to piss!” came Jo’s annoyed voice from the other side of the door.

Sam huffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes as he continued to shower. "Hold on, I'll be out in a minute!" he called back, his voice raised to be heard over the spray of water.

"You better be!" Jo retorted. "I'm doing the pee pee dance out here!" Sam chuckled to himself, imagining her actually doing the pee pee dance. He shook his head before stepping out of the shower, quickly unlocking the door and running back in, pulling the curtain.

Jo immediately burst into the bathroom, a look of urgency on her face. "Oh thank god, I was about to-" She stopped short as she saw the shower curtain still closed, and Sam nowhere to be seen. Her expression quickly shifted from relief to confusion.

“Just go ahead and pee, the curtains closed” Sam told her casually upon hearing her pause as he soaped his body. Jo blinked in surprise, her annoyance quickly replaced by amusement before reluctantly unzipping her pants

"You've gotta be kidding me" She muttered under her breath, shaking her head. As she started to relieve herself, she couldn’t help but feel a little weird talking to Sam while she was doing it.

"So, er...how's the water?" She asked awkwardly, trying to make conversation to fill the silence. Sam chuckled from behind the curtain, shaking his head in amusement. "It's warm, good pressure. Why, do you want to join me?" he teased, a sly grin making its way onto his face before he cringed at his own words.

Really Sam, really? You should really start taking y/n’s advice on flirting with girls.

Jo sputtered, almost losing her control on the flow. "I swear to God, Winchester, I’m gonna punch you through this curtain!" she threatened, aiming a glare in his general direction. Despite her annoyance, there was a hint of laughter in her voice.

Sam chuckled again, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I’m sorry. No more flirting while you’re on the toilet, Scout’s honor" he promised, unable to keep the amused smile off his face.

Jo rolled her eyes as she tried to stop her face from flushing a crimson red. Wiping and then zipping up her pants before making her way to the sink. She started washing her hands and tried to ignore the fact that behind the shower curtain, Sam was still butt naked. The thought made her stomach flutter with an unfamiliar feeling.

Sam, standing in the shower under the warm spray of water, suddenly realized that he had forgotten to bring a towel into the bathroom. Muttering a curse under his breath, he turned off the shower and poked his head out of the curtain. "Hey, Jo! Can I bother you for a favor?"

Jo stop midway washing her hands. She turned to see him poking his dripping head from the curtain, her eyes widening a bit at the sight of him, hair sticking to his forehead and water running down his bare chest. But she quickly regained her composure. "Sure, what do you need?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual, despite the slight flutter in her chest.

He cringed, looking a bit embarrassed as he glanced at the floor. "Er, I forgot to bring a towel, would you mind grabbing one for me, please? You can just leave it by the bathroom door” he replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Jo had to fight the urge to roll her eyes and tried to suppress a smirk to cover up the fact that she was flustered.

"Yeah, yeah, hold on" she told him, trying to force her tone to sound casual but it came out more flustered than anything. She quickly rinsed the soap off her hands and dried them on her jeans before leaving to find a towel for him.

As she rummaged around in the linen closet, her mind kept involuntarily drifting to the image of Sam behind the shower curtain, all bare... and wet. She quickly shook her head, trying to clear those thoughts from her mind.

She grabbed a large towel and carried it to the bathroom door, trying to keep cool as she held it out for him to grab. "Here, you go" she said, trying to sound natural. Sam reached out and took the towel, their fingers brushing for a brief moment as he did. A subtle hint of a shiver ran through Jo's body, but she ignored it, quickly taking a step back.

"Thanks…" Sam said, still feeling a bit embarrassed as he wrapped the towel around his waist. He took a step out of the bathroom, the water dripping off his body making the towel cling to his hips. “You're a lifesaver” He added sheepishly before turning to make his way to the room to get changed.

Jo's eyes involuntarily traced over his bare back, her gaze lingering on the defined muscles and the trail of water droplets running over his skin and down the crevice of his spine. She quickly looked away, trying to hide the redness creeping up her neck. "Yeah, no problem" she managed to reply, hoping her voice didn’t give away her inner turmoil.

The sight of his half-naked body and the way the towel clung to his hips… it was a sight she couldn’t deny was... appealing. She quickly shook her head again, trying to push the thoughts away with a sigh. “Get a grip, Joanna Beth” she muttered to herself.

________________________________

Sam was sitting on the chair, the tattoo artist’s needle pricking into his chest repeatedly. Dean decided to get it in the same place but Y/N was still skeptical of her placement. Debating whether to get it on her left shoulder blade or somewhere else…

Dean had already got his tattoo and was leaning against the wall, sipping his beer and watching Sam get his while Jo held onto Sam’s hand, clutching onto hers while the needle pricked at his skin. Jo had settled on getting hers on her right forearm. “You alright, there, Sammy?” Dean asked the younger Winchester with an amused smile.

Y/N cracked a smile, one leg crossed over the other, amused by the pained look on Sam’s face. “Yeah, I’m great.” Sam muttered sarcastically through clenched teeth, grimacing in pain causing Jo to snicker. Sam shot her a quick glare. “You look like you’re gonna pass out, Winchester” Jo teased, patting his hand which she held. Sam just let out a huff in response, looking away in embarrassment.

Dean and Y/N snorted, sharing an amused look as she looked through the pamphlet the tattoo artist gave her, still deciding where to place hers. “Don’t be such a little baby.” Dean smirked, rolling his eyes. “It’s just a little needle, that’s all. Even Barbie hunter took it better than you” Dean quipped, pointing to Jo.

It was now Sam and Jo’s turn to scowl at Dean simultaneously. “Says the guy who screamed like a girl when he got his.” Jo retorted, raised an eyebrow. Y/N bursted out laughing at this, earning a side eye from Dean. “Sorry man, she got you there” She shrugged.

Dean shot her a glare before scowling at Sam and Jo, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t scream, sister, thank you very much.” He protested, the tips of his ears reddening. “It was a manly shout. A battle cry, okay?” Sam raised an eyebrow, looking at his older brother, amused by his obvious embarrassment.

“A ‘manly shout’?” He asked. Dean’s face reddened even more as he cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact.

“Bitch” Dean scowled and pointed at Sam.

“Jerk” Sam sneered and retorted, both brothers giving each other death glares.

Dean flipped Sam the bird, making his mouth fall agape, gasping theatrically, “Y/N, Dean just showed me middle finger” Sam chided like a 5 year old, pointing an accusing finger at his older brother, his grip slightly tightening on Jo’s hand, but not due to the needle this time.

Y/N rolled her eyes, still flipping through the booklet. “You boys behave, or I will ground you both” She deadpanned in a monotone voice. Sam smirked and shook his head, wincing in pain when the needle once again pricked his skin.

“Yes, ma’am” The boys responded in unison, with mock seriousness. Sam gave a mock salute as Dean did the same, except with his middle finger. “Don’t make me tell you where to put that, Winchester” Y/N snapped, giving him a playful look.

He smirked, mouth half open to give her a cheeky innuendo but knowing him, she already had a mind he was gonna say something crude, “I will smack you” She pointed a finger at him firmly, biting back a grin.

“Kinky” He quipped instantly, grinning at his own witty remark. “Dean” Y/N groaned exasperatedly, giving him a warning look, her eyebrows slightly raised.

Jo rolled her eyes and chuckled, shaking her head at the both of them. “Jesus, how do you live with these two? I feel bad for you, Y/N”. Y/N felt a twinge of guilt in her heart again, she was happy to know that Jo didn’t hold too much of a grudge against her for the lies Meg spewed when she was in her body. Granted, Jo landed that sweet punch across her face so that was a bit of payback that was needed.

She smiled before responding.“Eh, you get used to it. Especially if you’re with them 24/7” She shrugged, smiling, before flipping through the booklet once again, trying to hide the look of guilt that washed over her features.

Dean let out a scoff from behind her, leaning up against the wall again. “You’re just as bad as us. Worse, actually.” He commented, sipping his beer. Y/N flipped him the bird before mindlessly going back to looking through placements on the pamphlet. Sam snorted, holding back a laugh as he watched them bicker back and forth, enjoying the spectacle.

Sam was happy to see them a little more relaxed compared to how they’ve been the past few weeks. He couldn’t help but wonder why they’ve been so snippy at each other but that was a bag of snakes he was not gonna open. Since they sorted it out, he let his curiosity die.

Dean peered over her shoulder and looked at the images of different places where she could get her tattoo. “So, you’ve narrowed it down, Y/N?” He asked, taking a seat next to her, leaning in ever so slightly, his breath hot against her ear, making her skin prick.

She tried to keep her composure and nodded, clearing the tight feeling in her throat. “Yeah, just a few places…” She answered breathlessly, flipping through the pages to keep herself occupied and away from thinking how close he was standing next to her.

“Alright, all done” The tattoo artist informed them after wiping off the last remnants of ink on Sam’s chest. “Thank you” Sam said, sounding a little relieved to be finally done. He stood up from the chair and stretched his limbs, giving the tattoo artist a small grateful smile before grabbing his shirt from the table next to him and pulling it back on.

“Come on, let’s get you a lollipop” Jo teased Sam, handing him his jacket. “Hey, I deserve a lollipop too, y’know?” Sam quipped back in mock offense. He let out a small hiss as he pulled the shirt over his chest, it felt like the most sensitive area he ever had before carefully putting his jacket on, apart from his bullet wound.

He still felt the needle pricking at his skin, it was a strange but not entirely unpleasant feeling. “Oh, shut up and stop being such a baby” Jo retorted, rolling her eyes.

Dean and Y/N shared a tried look before turning back to the pair. The look on their faces practically said, ‘Shut up and kiss already’

“You ready for your turn, Y/N?” Dean asked, looking at her expectedly. “Yep” She smiled, standing up. “Now get out. Both of you. Go wait in the waiting room. Only Jo can stay.” She pointed to the door. “Because if either of you make fun of me. I’ll shave your heads in your sleep. And yes, that means you too Sammy. Now get!” Y/N shooed them out of the room.

Sam’s brows shot up in fear at the fact that she would threaten his gorgeous mane as held his hands up as Dean grumbled. “Alright, alright- we’re going.” He said, raising his hands up in defense before giving her a farewell goodbye.

Dean pouted, “Why does Barbie get to stay! But I wanna see where you’ll get inked.” He protested like a child. “I don’t know about you, Dean. But I’d like to keep my hair” Sam chimed it, pushing his idiot brother by his broad shoulders out the door. Dean mouthed something to her as he walked to the door and she stuck her tongue at him as she smirked before turning to the tattoo artist.

-

Reluctantly, they both went and sat down in the waiting room, grumbling to themselves.

“Damn, she's bossy” Dean huffed, rolling his eyes and crossed his arms.Sam chuckled in agreement, “Yeah, but you like that” He shot a sly smirk at his brother, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. Dean clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at his brother, giving him a warning look.

“Shut up” He growled under his breath, “I do not like her being all bossy.” He said firmly as Sam picked up a magazine next to him. “Riiight,” Sam drawled sarcastically, not believing a single word he said, opening the magazine “Sure you don’t.”

-

Jo looked at Y/N in amusement, watching her carefully contemplate on the placement. “So, have you decided where you want it?” She asked, watching the other woman flip through the book, looking through the different tattoos.

“Yep, here” She smirked, showing it to Jo and then the tattoo artist. Jo’s eyes widened as a smirk took her face over. “You’re getting it there?” She asked, raising an eyebrow with a small smirk on her face. “Yep” Y/N replied firmly, not even an ounce of doubt behind her voice.

“You skank. I like it” Jo teased, Y/N knew she wasn’t being hateful and rather jokingly with her, throwing her head back laughing at the comment. “Why thank you” Y/N winked back before settling in the chair.

-

Once done getting her new ink, Y/N strolled out of the room with Jo besides her, giving the boys a smug smile. Especially Dean.

Dean shot up from the chair he was seated on, an impatient look on his face. “So? Where’d you get it?” He asked, walking up to her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She smirked, placing a hand on her hip while Jo snickered, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Oh come ON” He whined and crossed his arms, pouting again. Sam was just amused by their interaction, knowing what she was doing. “Alright, alright Cranky Pants” Y/N snorted, putting her hands up in surrender. She shot Sam a look, “Sammy, close your eyes” she said quickly.

Sam raised an eyebrow, “What? Why do I have t-” He attempted to protest but Jo cut him off, “Close.It.Winchester” She narrowed her eyes at Sam, pointing a firm finger at the younger Winchester.

Sam shut his mouth immediately, groaning mockingly before complying without a fuss, and shut his eyes, covering it with his hands for good measure as he huffed in defeat.

Dean was beyond curious and slightly impatient. “Why do his eyes need to be clos-??” His mouth fell agape as Y/N turned around and lifted up the back her shirt, the anti possession tattoo was inked into the middle of her lower back with some designs to the side.

It was the typical anti possession symbol, The tattoo was small but intricately designed and detailed, the sigil itself was made surrounded with swirls and some (your favorite flower) and vines to the sides. It hugged the bottom of her spine, curving around it and making her (your skin colour) skin stand out.

Deans boxers were practically on the floor at the sight, figuratively speaking. “Christ on a cross…” He breathed out, staring intently at her bare skin, his mouth dry.

Jo took one good look at Dean before bursting out in laughter, slapping a hand against his shoulder. “Dude, you alright there?” She snickered. Dean’s eyes were practically the size of saucers. He still hadn’t said anything. He was just looking at her bare back with his mouth open.

Dean couldn’t help but stare at the fresh tattoo, his mind going blank as his eyes fixated on the way the ink sat on her skin, how it curved around her skin so perfectly, making her skin look more appealing. He swallowed hard, running his tongue over his lower lip as his mind began to think up unholy things. Mentally cursing at himself.

Sam was now curious, and started to open one eyelid. “Is it done? Can I look now?”

“Nope, keep your eyes closed” Dean commanded, quickly placing his hand over his brother's eyes, his eyes never leaving her back and swallowing, he felt his mouth start to salivate at the sight of her half naked. Quickly picking up his jaw…and boxers from the ground.

“You like it?” She asked, glancing at him from over her shoulder, a smug little grin on her lips as she slowly pulled her shirt back down, covering herself back up. “Is the sky blue?” He responded, sounding like he’d ran a marathon and still staring at her, his cheeks flushed, “Hell yeah, I do… “ He finally spoke after a few seconds, giving her an appreciative look, his eyes roaming over her from head to toe.

Sam groaned, getting tired of waiting and was more than a little suspicious of how silent they were both being, it was unnatural. “Can I open my eyes now?”, only for Dean to slide his hand from his brothers eyes to his mouth.

Sam sat there with Dean’s large hand over his face, completely confused and slightly uncomfortable, getting tired of waiting and was more than a little suspicious of how silent they were both being, it was unnatural. “Jesus Christ, how long do I have to keep my eyes closed?” He grumbled from behind his brothers palm.

Dean finally took his eyes off of her, looking over at his brother and rolled his eyes, “Oh suck it up.” He snorted, finally removing his palm from his face. Jo chuckled, “Yeah, yeah. Open up” She told him. Sam opened his eyes, looking at his brother, Y/N and Jo who looked like they were both seconds from bursting out laughing. He looked at them all quizzically, “What?”

“I got it as a tramp stamp. Still wanna see?” She snorted, covering her mouth with her hand to stop herself from laughing. Sam’s expression went from confusion to disgust within seconds, “No! Ew! Gah!!?” He looked completely repulsed by what she had said, face scrunched up in pure disgust.

The look on Sam's face was priceless, eyes wide and mouth agape, while Y/N was trying not to bust a gut laughing, her shoulders shaking as she bit her lip to stop herself.

The three of them couldn’t hold it in anymore and began laughing, Jo’s sides started hurting and Y/N had her hands on her stomach, laughing uncontrollably, tears streamed down her face. “Oh my God, your face… You should’ve seen your face, oh my god, you looked so stupid” Jo tried to talk through laughs, struggling to breathe.

“That was priceless, oh my god. I wish I took a picture” Y/N wheezed, holding her stomach, her sides were hurting from laughing.bDean on the other hand was wheezing and howling and slapped his knee, not able to hold it in any longer.

Sam groaned, “Ugh, I can’t believe you put that image in my head” He grimaced, still having the horrified look on his face. Y/N was still trying to hold back her laughter, tears of joy in her eyes as she covered her mouth with her hand.

Dean was still laughing uncontrollably, his sides starting to ache, leaning forward and holding onto his stomach. “Man you were eager to see too” Dean cackled. “Shut up, Dean!” Sam protested, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment and slight anger as he pointed an accusing finger at his brother.

Y/N couldn’t hold it in anymore and started to laugh uncontrollably as well, tears streaming down her cheeks. Dean was just wheezing at this point, no longer making coherent words, clutching his sides and holding his stomach as he fell back into the chair, laughing like a madman.

“Alright alright, why don’t we go get something to eat. I’m starving” Y/N dismissed, wiping the tears of laughter from the corner of her eyes after the three sobered up their laughing. She nudged Jo slightly in hopes she’s agree with getting something to eat.

"Oh god, yeah. I'm starving" Jo agreed, patting her stomach before glancing at the boys. Dean tried to recompose himself, "Food sounds good right now" he mumbled, still trying to catch his breathe.

Wiping the tears away from his eyes as well, “I don’t know about you guys… but a beer and a bacon cheeseburger sounds good right about now.” He smirked and looked at Jo and Y/N, who both nodded in agreement with his choice.

Sam was still giving Y/N a look of absolute horror, the image of her with a 'tramp stamp' still ingrained in his brain. “God yes, and some fries” Y/N groaned at the thought of food as they walked to the door, Dean held the door open for her, gesturing for her to walk out first.

As Y/N walked out of the door, Dean’s eyes instantly zoned in on her ass, watching how her hips moved with each step, hoping to get a peak of her tramp stamp again. He closed the door and followed behind, whistling lowly under his breath and licking his lips.

Sam still had the look of pure disgust on his face as they walked to the Impala, still trying to forget the mental image Y/N gave him. Jo linked her arm into his, offering him a sweet smile. “Maybe I should’ve gotten mine there” Jo whispered to him, a coy smile playing on her lips.

Sam found himself intrigued by the idea, a flush of pink playing on his cheeks. "Yeah, then I can admire it better" he mumbled bashfully, looking away from her, cheeks still red.

"What was that?" She teased, raising an eyebrow and smirked. “Nothing.” He quickly said, pushing her away gently, his ears turning red out of embarrassment, but he didn’t really mind the idea, especially considering it’s Jo, he wouldn’t be complaining.

Jo bursted out laughing again as Y/N climbed into the backseat along with Jo. Dean’s eyes didn’t leave Y/N yet and Sam rolled his own eyes, already knowing his brother was perving on her from behind.

“Jesus, Dean. Stop ogling her” Sam grumbled in disgust from over the car at the passenger side to where Dean stood at the drivers side, when the girls were inside the Impala and out of earshot, seeing the way his eyes were glued onto her body.

“What?” Dean snapped out of his daze, feigning innocence. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m not doing anything” while opening his door with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, right. And I’m a pink unicorn” Sam shot back sarcastically, hopping in shotgun.

"Shut up" he huffed, getting in the driver's seat. He glanced briefly in the rear-view mirror, noticing how Y/N and Jo were joking and talking with each other from in the back before putting the Impala in drive.

________________________________

Author’s Note: Hi again! I just wanna clear up some things, I know in the show it’s canon that John killed Bill but I never liked that reveal, if I’m being very honest. So it’s not canon in my book.

I hope everyone liked! Because once again I’ve outdone myself and this is now my longest chapter lol. Standing tall at 23.2k words.

Thank you again for reading and don’t feel shy to tell me what you loved and what you hated about this episode.

Also, I made a meme, lol

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2

Xoxo

[earl-grey-teacake]

hi!! i hope you're doing well!! i saw your baby!loscar au post where you answered an ask about how logan and oscar react to the other drivers on the grid, and the bit on max showing up to their karting events when they're older is SO on brand fr!! especially after canada, i just want to give logan the biggest hug ever and (if you want to) would love to hear more of your thoughts about max cheering on/advising logan during karting races. ofc no pressure!!

Hello! Yes, I am doing much better!

Canada made me so sad but I am hopeful and whatever happens, I will follow Logan to whatever sport he moves to.

I can absolutely expand on that.

When Oscar and Logan first started karting, some of the drivers would come out to support them. They were disguised as to not take attention away from the kids but Logan and Oscar knew who they were. Max was one of the ones who would go out consistently to cheer them on and provide that positive validation he never got as a kid.

He gets more involved when Alex and George have to fly back to England but Logan has school, practices, and a race to attend. Oscar, Lando, and Carlos are sick so Max jumps in and offers to watch Logan for them. His flat is just him, Charles, and their pets and Logan is quite comfortable with animals.

So Logan stays with Max for 2 weeks as Charles has media duties in Maranello. Logan is surprisingly good with the pets and they seem to like him enough to sleep on him- they are not allowed in at night out fear they will suffocate him and Max cannot have that on his soul.

Is Logan old enough to shove them off?

Yes. Does Max have anxiety? Yeah.

Max drives him to school and then to the track for practice sessions. He’s instructing him where to brake, what he did wrong on a turn, why he spun out and what to look out for. Max is free to maxplain and Logan soaks it up like a sponge.

Before the race, he’s checking the helmet, the kart, making sure Logan remember his lessons and then send him off. He’s cheering on the sidelines, anxious when a kid in a similar white helmet spins out, angry and calling for a black flag on another kid’s reckless maneuver.

******

“You got everything? Your helmet is in tight?” Max checked just in case. “Do you remember everything I taught you?”

Logan nodded. “Go wide on turn 1 and brake later on turn 3. Be careful of exiting turn 5.”

“Good job! You’ll do great!” Max gave a high-five.

—-

Max’s heart sinks when he sees a blue kart and a white helmet spin off the track and his the wall. He watches as a red flag is called and breathes a sigh of relief when he seen a white helmet and blue kart come into pit.

—-

Max was going to march down there and yell at an organizer as some kid tried to run Logan off the track. There should’ve been a black flag two laps ago.

“That’s a black flag. Are you blind? He’s shoved two kids into the gravel already!”

When they’re driving back home, Max says, “Logan, next time someone does that. You run him off the track you hear me. It might ruin your race but it’ll teach him a lesson.”

******

Logan places 1st and Max is ecstatic and sending photos to the official GPDA group chat.

After those two weeks and Logan placing 1st in both races, Max, unofficially, has taken him under his wing. Charles comes back, competitive and unhappy that Max has become a favorite, take Oscar under his tutelage.

Alex finds Logan’s admiration of Max adorable but is a little jealous. George is very jealous since he’s also won a WDC but Logan doesn’t listen to him.

Lewis is a bit concerned that Max and Charles mentoring Logan and Oscar might lead to some unhealthy competition like from when they were children.

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoyed it! ❤️

[ysljoon]

simon 'ghost' riley dom headcanons

wc: 884 warnings: fluff, smut, nsfw under the cut, dacryphilia, bondage, pussy slapping, creampies, oral (m receiving), degradation, spanking, overstimulation, creampies, aftercare, mentions of sub drop, dd/lg (?) a/n: trying to dip my toes back into smutty things it's been so long i gotta dust off the cobwebs MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

Simon Riley is the sweetest dom but don’t tell anybody that shhh

He knows how to make you melt with all the pet names

His favorites are ‘angel’ and ‘sweetheart’ BUT ‘lovie’, ‘sweet girl’, and ‘pretty girl’ are in the mix too

He is such a worry wart about you!!! If you’re at work/uni he’s asking for updates and doing check ins any chance he gets when he’s not deployed out on a mission

When he’s with you he’s always has an arm around your waist and keeping him close by so nobody or anything can get to you 

He’s a firm believer that you’re his princess so you do NO CHORES around the house 

It’s absolutely banned that you lift a finger at home so your only responsibility is to listen to him

He even loves to pick out your outfits (bro is such a cutie patootie)

If the weather permits most outfits entail skirts and thigh highs it’s his favorite combo

If you’ve had a bad day he has you smothered in blankets and just doting on you bringing you snacks and putting on your favorite show/movie and cooking you your favorite meal

He’s not much of a baker so he will probably DoorDash you a sweet treat (also because he can't bear to leave you by yourself when you’re upset)

If he’s having a bad day he just needs snuggles from you

Y'all are glued to the bed with your bodies flush against each other the whole day

He probably won’t say much either besides some grumbling when you get up to use the bathroom

He’s such a softie when you give him lil kisses he likes little pecks on the cheek and nose

He finds it so cute when you ask him to stoop down so you can give him a forehead kiss

He definitely prefers giving kisses to his babygirl instead tho

Mr. Riley is a sucker for giving you hickeys I don’t make the rules

He loves putting them in the places where everyone can see so everyone knows that you’re claimed 

It’s a pain in the ass for you though, sorry

THIS MAN JUST LOVES CLAIMING YOU

He adores the sight of you in a collar in the bedroom with you on your knees

Seeing you with tears brimming your lower lash line when you’re begging for him to touch you in some way for relief has him painfully hard in his pants

He’ll of course have a leash attached  so he can pull you closer by having you crawl in between his legs

He’s a throat fucker he can’t get enough seeing and hearing you choke on his cock

He loves seeing your spit dribble down your chin and tears running down your flushed cheeks while he’s using your mouth to get off

He doesn’t love the idea of degradation but he will call you the occasional ‘dumb slut’ or ‘cock slut’ it’s just what you are tho :3

Definitely spits on your pussy to lube it up before he fingers you

He isn’t super rough when he fingers you but is ADDICTED to slapping your pussy

He loves seeing it get so puffy the longer he plays with your pussy

Speaking of slapping if you’re bratty his favorite punishment is spankings

When you’re getting spanked he doesn’t let up until you’re squirming and sniffling

Once he believes you’ve learned your lesson and have apologized for your behavior he gives you soothing rubs with cream and kisses on each of your cheeks

Simon likes using restraints of some kinds (handcuffs, ropes, etc) and laughs when he sees you get impatient when he teases you with his tip right at your slit and clit

An avid enjoyer of doggystyle and missionary

He doesn’t mind choking but will only do it for you when you beg and beg hard 

An overstimulation king fr

By the time y'all are both done he’s came at least 2-3 times 

They’re definitely all crempies too (he loves the occasional money shot, and tries his hardest to avoid your eyes)

Lord knows how many times you have tho you’re definitely seeing stars

He has aftercare down to a science!! That man is so gentle you would never believe he kills people for his line of work

You’re somewhat prone to sub drop so Simon takes extra care of you

He’s very tender when he cleans you up and when he runs a bath he bridal style carries you

He’ll wrap you in the fluffiest and softest robe and place fluffy socks on you too to protect your feet from the cold floor

He’ll bring both a bottle of water and juice for you to drink and even has a snack/candy stash in his nightstand drawer

He’ll feed it to you while you’re situated with you sitting in between his legs with your back against his chest 

He usually will play some calming music in the background for you instead of the TV because it can be overstimulating for you

You usually fall asleep in minutes just listening to the low timbre of his voice humming along with the music

He’ll reposition you so you’re the little spoon and will place a loving lil smooch on your temple wishing you goodnight

[ju1cyfru1t]

Hiii pooks! 😙 I love❤️ ur writhing sm

I’ve been having such a spider man phase after watching the new spider verse movie and I was wondering what would the turtles think when they figured out reader being NY’s Spider women or spider person like they haven’t told thier turtle bf about it and stuff (live for the drama😵‍💫)

Always love you and def feel free to ignore!

I LOVE THIS thank you pookie 🤭 hope u like it 🫶🏻🕸️ u didn’t specify so I’m gonna assume you meant the rise turtles!

Rise! Leo, Mikey, Donnie, Raph x Spider-Woman! S/O

ROTTMNT x Reader

fluff! :D, fem! reader, contains swearing, not proofread

Leo

- He may not be the brightest mutant, but he is observant

- Probably interrogated the info out of you

- -> “Y/N, where exactly were you last night?” “Oh, uh…I was with, um, April.” “That’s funny…considering April was with us!”

- It didn’t really shock him to find out you had a big secret, what did shock him is what that secret is

- He’s also a little hurt that you didn’t tell him. Don’t you trust him??? But that wasn’t his biggest concern

- “Wait, so like…spider woman as in like, big mama kind of spider woman?” NO-

- You would have to really explain it to him

- But let’s be real, he still wouldn’t understand so you’d have to show him by like climbing up the fucking wall or something

- But he really does think your powers are super sick

- Laughs when you try to explain your spidey senses -> “wait, you’re serious?”

- ^ calls them your “tingly thing”

- maybe you can web his fucking mouth shut

- LOVES your suit, thinks you look stunning and super awesome

- “You know, I always said that was your color Y/N!”

- Invites you to patrol with them! (then he doesn’t have to do as much)

- thinks you’re so hot when you fight (NOT IN A FREAKY WAY YOU FREAKS) and hypes you up

- freaks tf out if he ever gets a web on him, including if you were to swing with him to get out of harms way

- doesn’t ask for them, but he can’t deny he likes the iconic Spider-Man kisses

Mikey

- would just straight up ask if you’re hiding something. Dr.Delicate touch DOES NOT PLAY ‼️

- Of course this would be something you’re hesitant about, but he would remind you that you can confide in him

- Def was not expecting THIS.

- He is asking you a million questions all at once, and will sit nicely and listen as you explain with starry eyes (stop lookin at me with them big ole eyes)

- You’re #1 fan and biggest hype man

- Thinks you’re the coolest person ever fr

- Wants to swing around on your webs with you. Around NYC, in the lair, in Donnie’s lab, on missions, it doesn’t matter he WANTS it.

- THE ICONIC SPIDER-MAN KISSES ALL THE TIME ITS HIS FAVORITE WAY TO KISS YOU NOW

- weirdly interested in your webs 🕸️

- Compliments your suit anytime you wear it around him; thinks your mask is so so cute

- ^ in his free time he’ll sketch and color new suit designs to show you (also just drawings and paintings of you in your suit)

Donnie

- isn’t going to pry any secrets from you; but he does secretly wish you’d come to him on your own.

- so you can imagine his gratitude and relief when you finally tell him what’s up

- Doesn’t really say anything about it, but he doesn’t get why you didn’t just tell him sooner. I mean, you do know he’s a hero too, right?

- he’s fascinated, he’s never seen anything like your powers before. especially because you’re not a mutant.

- really just asks questions about how it all works. Your webs, how you stick to surfaces, your enhanced senses, the whole deal yk?

- He did NOT like big mama’s webs, and he doesn’t really like yours either I’m so sorry.

- ^if he needs them, would ask to use some like he did with Big Mama’s

- It’s not you I swear he just can’t do it

- you could like climb all over his lab ceiling and walls and scare the shit out of him tho

- ^ “Y/N get down this instant! WE TALKED ABOUT THIS-“

- admires your enhanced senses and intuition of danger

- is absolutely gonna make gear for you, as well as offering to make upgrades to your suit

- wouldn’t really directly say it, but he really likes the design of your suit. it just fits you so well. (he IS going to make a purple one for you)

- would scream if you ever just dropped down in front of him to kiss him spider man style

- ^ traumatized; it’s not his favorite thing but he doesn’t mind terribly

Raph

- might take him a while to notice if something is off about you. Leo or Mikey would probably have to directly point it out for him to realize fully

- Isn’t going to beat around the bush and just asks why you’re acting lowkey shady

- really shocked, might take him a second to process even if he doesn’t really know exactly what you mean at first

- honestly he understands why you keep it a secret, just a little saddened that you kept it from him

- He’s gonna need you to really explain your powers

- “…where do the webs come out of tho?”

- would deepen your bond and connection. you can really relate to each other carrying a deep burden and the pressure of responsibility.

- AMAZING DUO with his strength and your agility

- very good hype man

- takes you on most missions and patrols, thinks you’re a really valuable asset to the team

- also calls your spider senses your “tingly thing”

- it’s not that he doesn’t like your webs, something about them just make him nervous. Refuses to let you swing him on them unless he’s in immediate danger.

- does NOT let you crawl around the lair walls, he’s scared you’ll hurt yourself

- ^ “Y/N! You’re gonna hurt yourself, GET DOWN!”

- really thinks you look so pretty in your special suit, he just doesn’t know how to say without feeling like he sounds dumb. He would DIE if it was red.

- “ I really…er, like your costume.”

- very supportive! he gets the struggle of protecting the city, but is happy you get to do it beside each other. :D

- he likes the spidey kisses, they just really fluster him

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y’all I’m sorry if there is any misinformation in this don’t flame me but I haven’t seen atsv yet