#but the idea of it being there makes me insane

[bluemerakis]

─────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ────

❝ this one’s on me ❞

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ dean winchester x fem!reader

warnings .ᐟ s4!spoilers, cussing, dean’s really just suffering omg, and he’s also like, secretly smitten over reader; small age gap, a slow-burn build up to car sex, grinding, nip sucking, oral f receiving (he’s such a tentative munch pls), unprotected p in v, fluff. lmk if I forgot any :))

synopsis — dean’s physically free of hell, but he finds that his own demons have never really left him. having already made his fair share of bad decisions, he figures that it couldn’t hurt to make one more—the pursuit of you.

word count ~ 10.5k (i’m done apologising y’all know how carried away i get 🤟)

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Rowdy occupants teetered throughout the local bar, their cheers and protests slurred by this evening’s two-for-one special on all drinks. The bar was lively enough on most nights, but always in a manner sophisticated enough for Dean to enjoy a glass or two in comfort. Now, the space had become a raging fest of body against body, and the music was so loud that he could feel the ringing of his ears pressing all the way into the back of his eyes. The abrupt change in atmosphere felt personal, like it’d been specially planned to further tug at Dean’s gradual undoing.

His elbows were propped onto the bar top before him, fingers restlessly tapping at the sweaty, glass keep of his beer. All around him, barmaids wove frisky lines to tend to drunken groups seated along either side of him. Occasionally, one of the girls would attempt to cast their hook into him with an overzealous offer to top up his drink, and a candid nibble of their glossed lips, but he’d nicked their lines at the ready.

Any other night, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity to show those gorgeous barmaids a time to remember, but as of now, he had other company to entertain—the unwanted and persistent voices in his head. Sounded insane, huh? Quite frankly, he was starting to feel the part. It was making him a bit of a downer, and that wasn’t much his style with the ladies.

Dean’s head lolled between his hunched shoulders, where he glimpsed his lonely reflection in the bubbling amber of his drink. He realised he must’ve stood apart from the bar’s bustling and cheerful atmosphere like a sore thumb, sat in broody silence as he indulged his second beer with a hefty frown on his brows.

He could have scoffed at the idea of being alone. If only onlookers had the ability to peer into the depths of his tainted mind, then they’d know that he was anything but alone.

True silence was a luxury Dean had long since been robbed of. It was a concept that held hands with peace, but there was no peace to be found in a soul as wretched as his. He didn’t deserve it—not after everything he’s done.

Those years he’d spent wrapped up in hell had remade his psyche in all the worst ways. And even now, as he walked amongst the living once again, it felt as though a fraction of the underworld had carried through and engraved itself in his very DNA.

He felt tainted by its touch—heard the way it mocked him with the voices of all the strangers he’d tortured to spare himself the same turmoil. It looped in his mind like a sadistic ear worm. Every hour, every minute, every damn second of the day. And to top the icing on the screw you cake? He had no idea how to make them shut the hell up.

It hadn’t always been that way, though. The first time it happened had been a rough week or so after his return. He’d taken on a rather grim job with his brother—a chain of victims that had been tortured to the death by a rogue demon. Dean had let out a wry scoff when Sam had first told him the details. He had a hunch on what that was about.

The demons hadn’t had any say in Dean’s release from hell. If it were up to them, they’d have kept him in a glass display for all eternity. When Cas had pulled him from the fiery depths, the angel had just about pissed off every single demon down there. They knew they couldn’t lay hands on Dean and drag him right back down to his eternal misery, so they’d taken to doing what they did best—causing havoc. And they’d found just the way to make it personal.

Each victim the brothers had found had been tortured in a different way—methods that were all too familiar to Dean. Methods that he’d invented. He’d had years to become creative. Each sighting had mortified him, and he’d had to swallow several times to suppress the bile adamantly reaching up to strangle his airways. What hurt him the most, though, was having to put on a detached facade for Sammy. His brother had no idea what Dean had been through down there. . . what he’d done down there—and why should he? He’d be more than eager to offer up a steaming fest of pity and guilt if he knew the truth, but Dean didn’t deserve any of that. It was all his own doing. His choice.

Cas might’ve liberated him from his physical hell, but he’d never truly been liberated from anything. Most of the suffering had always come from within, anyways.

They’d never found the demon responsible for the murders. It almost made Dean believe that he’d reverted back to his primal nature and killed all of those people himself. He’s hurt people before, so what was stopping him now, right? Maybe he’d done it in his sleep. Maybe, as soon as he’d let his head hit the pillow and dull his battered mind into a much needed deep sleep, all the worst fragments of his subconscious would pull together into some twisted alter ego that came to kill at his unspoken will.

Had Cas freed an innocent that day, or had he just unleashed another, wretched demon into the world? Boy, if it was the latter, Lilith surely had nothin’ on him.

The voices had started ever since that disturbing case, and they were yet to leave him alone.

It’s almost as if that cheap, goddamn knockoff on the real events of his life had been last switch that needed flipping to tune his mind into hell’s channels. Now, he heard them all—the voices—at every frequency and at every volume. And it didn’t matter how hard he cranked up Baby’s radio, their agonising pleas would always pull through in a haunting backtrack. One time, while he and Sam had been on the road, the voices had grown so loud that it made his eardrums feel as though they’d implode. It had hurt like a bitch, pushing him to the brink so that he’d lose control of the wheel and swerve into oncoming traffic. Thankfully, dear ol’ Sammy had been quick enough to grab ahold of the wheel and steer them clear of the looming truck they were en route toward.

The truck’s bellowing hooter had set him straight again as it whipped past the rear, almost as though it were the stern chiding needed to pipe those asshole voices right back down. His brother, bless his soul, had offered to drive them for the rest of the day, quiet concern alight on his features. But Dean had declined almost instantly. Sam hadn’t pushed to know what had overcome his older brother in that very moment; he’d known enough to pin it onto the aftermath of hell.

For the rest of that day, the younger brother had said nothing about it, but he did cast a few, fleeting glances with those damned puppy eyes of his. Dean pretended not to notice. Furthermore, he’d chosen to forget that that instance had ever happened. Fake it til y’make it, right? He didn’t need to look worried—didn’t need to make Sammy worry.

How his brother had grown up unmarred by Dean’s personal shit was beyond him—but he was thankful for it. And he’d continue to withhold that burden from his brother for as long as he could. This hell business? It was his alone to bear. Sammy needed no part in his suffering, and Dean doubted his brother could do much about it, anyway.

Man, the younger Winchester could do no wrong. It almost sickened Dean to know that they shared the same blood. He supposed it created a balance in nature, like how a coin had two sides—one lucky, and the other anything but. It wasn’t hard to know which side was his. Wasn’t much fair, but which aspect of his life had ever been? No matter. For Sammy, he’d keep on flippin’ that damn weighted coin if it meant that he could keep his brother safe.

Dean shifted atop the uncomfortable bar seat and sniffed away his restless thoughts, bringing the thawed beer to his lips. His nose dipped into the glass as he downed an eager gulp, the lukewarm beverage engulfing his tongue with a warmth he would’ve rather claimed from a skimpy barmaid. But alas, he’d made himself the promise to keep any and all contestants from playing this whirlwind of a game that was anything remotely related to his life.

Was this how celibate priests felt? ‘Cause man, it sucked. Not that they’d know the feeling of that, either.

He lowered the partially emptied drink back onto the bar top with a bitter scoff, eyes downturned to where he twirled the glass base within the ring of moisture it had bled onto the wood.

“Something funny, or have you just finally gone insane? Called it, by the way.”

Now that was the last voice Dean had expected to hear tonight. And in a bar, of all places—somewhere your holier than thou self had once sworn to never set food in outside of hunts. Granted, you were probably just being dramatic, but the thought still amused him.

He needn’t turn much to witness your figure. You slunk into perfect view as you took up a seat beside him. “Fancy seein’ you here,” he greeted through a lazy half-smirk, lifting his glass in a one-sided cheer.

You shot his drink a pitiful glance before returning his curious stare with an amused smile. “And I’m sure the bar hates to see you coming,” you retorted lightly, averting your gaze as you lifted your hand to wave over the bartender. “Whiskey, neat, thank you,” you said sweetly once the man had approached.

Dean risked a quick sweep of your figure—adorned with a dress so simple and casual, it shouldn’t have beckoned for his attention the way that it did. But honestly, this was one of very few times he’d seen you in anything other than your hunting or roleplay attire. And to be a little more honest, it was a view he could get used to watching.

Your head swivelled to face him for a brief second, which was enough to pluck his eyes away from what could be considered leering, if he’d made a point to stare any longer. And he was oddly tempted. But you quickly turned to face the bartender once more, initiating friendly chatter while he poured your drink with an extra chirp to his tone. You tended to have that effect on people, making bonds both meaningful and meaningless wherever you trod. Shit, look at the way you’d so easily strolled into both Sammy and his life. He wasn’t one to let strangers linger around, but for you, he’d made some sort of exception.

Dean lowered his head to study his glass once more. It was a view he’d long since grown tired of, but it was for the best. He shouldn’t be looking at you like that, anyway. You were Sammy’s friend first, and with that connection came the unspoken obligation of keeping his destructive hands off of you.

Sam had met you all the way back college. You weren’t the brand of friendship Dean would’ve expected his former anti-hunting brother to delve into—being a hunter and all—but that fact had only been disclosed after an unfortunate day of you being caught in the crossfire of one of their cases. It was a day Dean had thought you done for, for sure, but then you’d gone and surprised the both of them with your hunter’s wit, immobilising the threat like it’d been nothing of a challenge.

Dean would never admit it to your face, but you were a whole lot more knowledgeable than himself and Sam combined—and that’s considering that his brother is a colossal nerd before anything else. Since then, you’d stuck around, always helping Sammy with the nit-picky bookworm bullshit that Dean had never had much desire to do. He’d thank God himself for the lucky find that was you, if the big man in the sky really existed to begin with. Even after having met the angels, who were by no means impressive (save the girth of their dick nature), he couldn’t be convinced that there was a God who’d sent them here.

His attention strayed back to you as you reached across the bar top with a cash tip in clutch, which the bartender drank in with slightly flustered eyes before refusing it politely. Dean found himself huffing softly at the sight of it—not long after he’d come in, he’d seen that same bartender lay a fit on one of the occupants who’d refused him a tip after wrapping up the bill. He could’ve guessed that the demanding air you brought to the place had something to do with it. You didn’t mean to do it—demand things your way—it was just a string of events that always managed to fall into place whenever you showed up.

It was a quiet allure you’d always had to you. Dean could call you a good-luck charm for it. It made him want to hold onto you, just a little tighter, but he’d be selfish to do it. And whatever found it’s way into his grasp always seemed to shatter.

You reached for your glass almost shyly, as though you felt some slither of guilt for not being able to compensate the bartender’s effort, before turning to face Dean more directly. You tilted your head in the slightest manner, free hand brought up to cradle your cheek in poise as you gazed at him. “What did you mean by that, anyway?”

He frowned lightly. “What did I mean by what?”

“Fancy seein’ you here,” you mocked in a tone far too deep. A shameless grin spread your lips before you lifted your glass to take a sip—your eyes holding a glint he couldn’t quite decipher. And he didn’t try to linger on your stare for long enough to find out. There was some pull to it—like a getting caught in the sea’s rip current, and it made him feel something he couldn’t quite place. Or wouldn’t place, for the sake of keeping things unattached.

He glanced off to the side with a simple shrug. “Nah, I mean, you’re always off chasin’ some fairytale with Sammy. Just figured the two o’ya woulda found a fresh tail to nip by now,” he said nonchalantly, glass brought to his lips as he took a tense swig that finally emptied his glass.

“Well, yeah, but it’s after hours now. And I need a break, just like you,” you laughed. “Besides, I think you of all people could take the biggest break from chasing anything for the time being—which I’m glad to see you doing, by the way.”

He offered a simple nod of acknowledgment before lowering his glass and swirling the beer around his tongue, racking his tired brain for the next thing to say. It irked him a bit. Part of his charm was that chatting it up with the ladies always came easy. Who the hell would be be without it? But something about tonight—about you—had him feeling like a gawking numb-nut with a desperate need for a wingman.

He swallowed his sip and cleared his throat somewhat self-consciously, finally mustering up the courage to face you again. You had your fingers wrapped around your glass now, your eyes narrowed in eager focus and the corners of your lips slightly upturned—all while you sat waiting for him in patient silence. A silence that had no reason to make him feel. . . anxious, but it did. Were you doing it on purpose? Did you even know what you were doing?

Get it together, man, you’re blowin’ it, he said silently. You always do. Where do you think this’ll go? Nowhere. It’ll all crash and burn. Burn. Burn, the voices taunted. They’d become far too comfortable in his head, and now they had no shame popping up during his any and every conversation. Whenever the hell they pleased.

Mouthy bastards.

He ignored their jeering and settled for poking at the past, hoping it would invite you to carry the conversation he was so clearly dropping. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember you sayin’ somethin’ ‘bout how bars are home to sad men and madly horny men. So, that begs my earlier surprise that the Judgemental Judy herself showed up at the weepin’ whorehouse,” he said with a light chuckle.

You seemed more than happy to perk up at his teasing, a sight that made him ease off the clutch on his glass. “Well, maybe—just maybe, I have the guilty pleasure of making fun of sad sobs like you afterhours. I mean, the job gets so dull sometimes, you’ll forgive a girl for having a stupidly fun hobby.”

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly. “You callin’ me a loser?” He asked through a grin.

Your shoulders lifted in the most dramatised shrug you could’ve possibly mustered. “Dunno, Dean,” you sighed. “Are you?”

He shook his head through a weak grin—not as a response to your question, but at the way you always found it in yourself to tease him with thinly veiled insults. He could’ve gotten mad over it, but it had become something like a tradition between the two of you—the very soul of your friendship. Now, he’d let you compare him to every depicted loser in the literature of insults if it could have you both sharing a hearty laugh by the end of it. If it would buy him a second longer of your presence.

You can’t have her. Not yours. She’ll break if you touch her, the voices pressed on. He never could place any of them—not to a face, not even to a name. But he must’ve known them, must’ve met them face to face when they’d been strung up for a beating by a weapon of his choice. The voices were right, too. Dean could tell himself he was a blacksmith, that he’d have the power to handle you in a way that would only make you malleable without breaking. But at the end of the day, he always managed a slip up. He knew he’d swing a little too hard, or bend you a little too far, perhaps even just hold you with a little too much force.

He’d break you the way he’d broken everything else. The way he’d broken himself.

“Are you okay?” Your slightly concerned voice broke into the chasm of his torment, causing him to raise his brows with a growing awareness.

“Yeah, no, I’m all right,” he attempted to say casually, coaxing forward a smile to reinforce his statement. But you didn’t look convinced—and why would you be? You knew him better than that. If anything, you might’ve been the one person who knew him better than Sammy. Not because he’d necessarily allowed it, but because you were scarily observant. He didn’t like how vulnerable that made him feel, but he couldn’t deny the facts, either. And he’d rather be faced with the hard truths than entertain myths forged for his own comfort.

“Come on,” you sighed all-knowingly before your leg crossed over the other, your whiskey pushed aside as you leaned yourself in a little closer to him. “What’s wrong, Dean?” He held his breath at the sudden closeness, but he wasn’t fast enough to miss the sweet caress of your perfume. It wafted beneath his nose like a taunt, and it fuelled the voices in his head even further.

Run away now, Dean. Save her. You’re doomed. Don’t doom her to the same fate. Don’t be selfish. Those words bit at his chest. Shut the hell up, he seethed silently, but they’d never listened before, and they wouldn’t listen now. You can’t shut out the truth, one sniped back.

He turned his head to the side. “Nothin’s wrong. Been a long day, that’s all. Sammy’s been wearin’ me down with all the hell crap. I just need a damn break.”

“I think that’s what you call brotherly concern,” you said, inching forward in your seat so that you nudged at the corner of his vision. “Is it so bad having somebody check up on you from time to time? Can’t do everything on your own, Dean, even if you like to think so.”

Dean released his glass and pushed it away from him, wringing his fingers out before he began to play with his ring. How could he tell you—tell anybody that this was something he could only do on his own? There wasn’t a single thing you or Sammy could do. It wasn’t the sort of thing that the books you skimmed through for hunts had an answer to. Traumatised man struggles to confront his tainted past. Now that’s a book that might’ve come in handy. But he wasn’t about to take a stroll through the local library’s self-help section, and reading it would only feel slightly validating if it’d been assigned by somebody with the degree to back the premise.

Besides, even if he’d been willing to talk to somebody who could help him, he’d surely be given a one-way ticket to the looney bin after the first session. Which wacko got to spew tales about the voices in their head without waking up between four padded walls the next day?

Dean cleared his throat dismissively. “Hey, uh, how’d you get here, anyway? Sammy drop you off?” He asked, eyes still glued to his fiddling fingers before he lifted his head to try and scout out the bartender. He could use another drink to drown the nerves he felt lingering within, and hopefully also drown out the voices while he was at it. You know, kill two birds with one stone and all that.

“Took a cab,” you answered hastily—a clear indication that you had no intention of entertaining his bullshit small talk. “I notice things, you know?” You added more earnestly, something that told him he wasn’t getting out of this one so easily.

Oh, trust me, I know, he remarked silently. He could’ve said the same about himself, especially when it came to you.

For instance, he noticed the way you’d never been a big drinker—how you’d only order something whenever he did. Obligatory pressure? Maybe, but he also noticed the way you always ordered the same whiskey. It was a whiskey he’d chosen for you the first time you’d gone to a bar together, and it was the same one you currently nurtured so gently between your fingers.

He noticed that you tended to care from a distance that didn’t feel suffocating, like making him that piping hot cup of coffee in the mornings he’d be too tired to pluck himself from the sheets, or all the times he’d gone days without eating and then woke up to a breakfast you’d prepped and plated at his bedside table. Hell, even all the times he’d left the motel in a scramble and forgotten essential equipment or some personal belonging, and you’d been right by his side, calm as a cucumber while you procured the items from your backpack.

Even now, you’d come all the way out here to keep him the company he’d never asked for, but that you must’ve known he needed. It was slightly more transparent than the rest of your previous acts of care, but he didn’t mind it, especially because you never tended to hassle him about his problems the way Sammy did. Up until now, at least. It was the little things like that that defined you in his eyes, things he’d come to admire about you.

Honestly, when it came to you, Dean couldn’t do anything but notice. You gave him the sort of impression that there was nothing you couldn’t try and fix. But she can’t fix you, a voice barked at him. You can’t be fixed.

Oh, piss off, you ass-probing sons o’ bitches, he spat internally. I’m not tryna get fixed. He wasn’t naive.

He shifted slightly in his seat as he grew more desperate for a numbing release, his eyes searching the bar frantically. But the bartender seemed to have disappeared entirely, and he gave a barely audible huff at tonight’s rigged luck. There goes the fuckin’ rescue. If he had to endure whatever mushy heart-to-heart was about to come next, he’d rather have done with some more alcohol to cull the consequences.

Almost as though you’d read his mind, the glass you’d been savouring was pushed in his direction. He glanced at you with slightly widened eyes, then gave a tiny dip of his chin.

“Thanks, but I prefer mine on the rocks,” he said thickly. Nothin’ like an icy gulp to remind me where the hell I am. That’s right, Hell. You’ll be back there in no time.

“Oh, I know, but if we’re gonna have this conversation—and we both know we will, you’re gonna need something stronger.” You nudged your glass another inch in his direction, modelling a clear-cut expression that told him not to argue any further. “Take it. This one’s on me,” you added with a cheeky smile. It was on you, only, it hadn’t cost you a dime.

Dean watched you for a few seconds longer, his tongue poking through to drag along his lower lip in silent debate. She’s not going to stop. She’s going to find out who you are. She’ll leave you. Just like everybody else. You’ll be alone. All alone. Alone. Again.

Neither of you moved to claim the drink—you out of protest, and him out of something far darker. All you did was cross your arms onto the countertop as you shared his silence, watching him through those calculating eyes of yours that made him feel a little too seen. Just what was going on inside of your head?

“All right,” he relented, slowly reaching across to clutch the glass. He brought it toward himself before lifting it to you in good gesture. “Cheers,” he said, then with a pause, his head tilted in silent consideration. “Again,” he added wryly.

You gave a tiny smile of victory, and the sight made his heart skip a beat. He immediately dropped his attention to the drink, where he brought it in for an eager drain. But his hand hesitated midway when he spotted the evidence of where your lips had settled for its first sip—the coloured print of your kiss overlapping the rim he’d planned to taste just seconds before.

“What, a little lipstick scare you?” He glanced up in time to see your eyes lifting from the same print on the glass rim, only to fix him with a slightly daring grin.

“Nah,” he answered almost too eagerly. He could’ve cursed himself for acting like a rattled school boy. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a long, hearty gulp of the whiskey. It seared every inch of his insides for the entire trip down to his stomach, but the burn was something different and oddly welcoming. With a smack of his lips and a sigh of relief, he set the remainder of the drink down and flashed you a content smile.

Suddenly, you were leaning toward him, your hand reaching for his face. The sight made his heart race, and all he could do was lean back an inch in his seat, as though you had a case of cooties he was trying to avoid. “Hey, uh—woah,” he laughed nervously, and then he didn’t make any sound at all. Your thumb was pressed against his lips, but it didn’t hover for long before it did a brisk swipe and your arm retreated back to your side.

“Lipstick smudge,” you told him innocently, but he caught that delighted look on your face, and he knew then that you were perfectly aware of the effect you seemed to have over him.

Dean’s head buckled to conceal the heat in his cheeks—hoping that it hadn’t reached your attention the way everything you did reached his. “Yeah, well, at least buy a guy a drink first,” he chuckled hoarsely.

“Technically, I already did.”

He gave a series of minuscule nods that depicted his defeat. “Touché.” Technically, you hadn’t bought anything—you’d gotten a freebie. But he supposed it was the sentiment that counted.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” you continued your earlier agenda. “I notice things, Dean.”

She’s going to find out exactly who you are.

“Oh, yeah?” He muttered half-heartedly, the heat in his cheeks vanishing only to be replaced by a feeling of dread. His chin perked up when he caught sight of the bartender creeping into the corner of his eye. There you are, ya prick. He lifted his hand to wave the man over, before he finally turned to face you. “Like what?”

He knew exactly what, and so did you. Where to begin was the real question.

Luckily, the bartender appeared just in time to offer a preparatory interlude, which he gratefully seized at the throat. Turning to the man, he leaned onto the counter. “Hey, man, could you fix the gal over here with a. . .” He trailed off with a questioning glance in your direction.

“I’m good, thanks,” you refused politely, but Dean could make out a hint of impatience peering through.

He cocked his head slightly. “Suit y’self,” he murmured, then faced the bartender again to order himself another round to down after he finished the whiskey—drown your sorrows, or whatever it is they say. But your hand reached into his space with far more sense than him, silencing his impulse before his lips could even split to give the order.

“He’s good, too,” you told the drinks master, and the man glanced between the both of you before settling on you with a knowing smile and taking his leave.

Dean turned to you with a slight pout and a ruffled frown. “Man, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” you retorted bluntly, hand retracting back into your own vicinity. “I’m not carrying your drunk ass out of here. And neither is Sam,” you added when Dean attempted to argue his brother onto his case.

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” he mumbled, reaching for the singular, remaining drink he was apparently being limited to for the rest of tonight. But he didn’t take another sip just yet. Instead, he used the glass as more of a coping device, his fingers wrung tightly around its fragile body. And he couldn’t look at you while he waited for you to say whatever it is you had to say; he wasn’t strong enough to confront that particular Pandora’s box head on.

“You haven’t been okay for a while now,” you began. His teeth reached to bite the already-raw skin of his cheek. “And I know that it’s because of. . . you know—” he did, “—the things you’ve been through during your time in Hell. I mean, I can’t imag—”

Dean already knew the ending of that sentence before you finished it, and all the spite he’d garnered within drove him to face you with unintentional hostility. “No, you can’t,” he snapped gruffly, but he came to regret it shortly after seeing the hurt creep into your expression. With a sigh, he turned away from your crippling stare, his head shaking lightly in defeat. “This is why I don’t wanna talk about it. . . you and Sammy, you can’t understand what I’ve been through down there—what I had to do down there.” Go on, tell her. Tell her about the monsters in hell. Tell her about the biggest monster of them all.

“You still need to talk about it, Dean,” you urged gently. He noted how soft your tone was, almost as though you were afraid to push him too hard, whether it be with your choice of words, or with a single, harsh pitch in your voice. “If not to me, then to Sam, at least. I mean, he’s your brother, I’m sure he understands most things that other people wouldn’t.”

“Nah. . .” Dean murmured, his voice trailing off as he picked at his battered brain. He brought the whiskey to his lips and took a sip, savouring the burn in his chest. He hovered the glass in the air. “Sammy. . . he can’t help me with this. He shouldn’t have to, anyway. I’m the big bro, I gotta keep my head on for ‘im, y’know?” He glanced at you finally, and he didn’t realise how shattered he must’ve looked until he saw heartbreak soften your eyes.

His attention flickered down to where your crossed arms faltered, your hand briefly reaching forward as though you’d wanted to offer some slither of physical reassurance, but something else had kept you from engaging. He wished it hadn’t.

“Well,” you murmured, that same hand rubbing tender patterns along your forearm. “You don’t have to keep your head on for me.” Dean glanced up at you in surprise. “You’d be stupid to try, anyway. You’re not fooling me, Dean.” You gave a light laugh of defeat. “You’re not even fooling Sam. But the difference is that you don’t have to share that burden with him if you don’t want to. . . but you can share it with me.”

Could he, really? He couldn’t help but feel as though once he did open up to you, you’d realise the true magnitude of his shit. Only then, you wouldn’t be able to back out. You were too kind for that sort of rejection. But you’d both become miserable, and he didn’t think he could do that to you of all people.

With a slight jerk of his chin, he said, “‘fraid I can’t,” and gulped down the last of his drink to flush away the guilt of the mere sound. He hissed through gritted teeth as he placed the glass down with a bang, something that caused a few loiterers to glance his way, but he ignored them as surely as he’d been doing this entire night. “We should get back to the Motel. Bet Sammy’s startin’ to wonder if he should give me a call and chew me out over missin’ your curfew.”

“Dean—” you started, but he stopped listening.

He reached into his jacket pocket and plucked out his wallet, fingers prying the worn leather to slip out a hefty note. He folded and plopped it onto the countertop, his chin dipping in a brief thanks to the bartender who’d begun to saunter over and claim the bill. “Thanks, man,” he murmured, rising from his seat as he buried his wallet once more.

When he did finally make eye contact with you again, you had this sullen look to your features, but he tried not to show the way it made him feel. Feeling guilty? Like a douche? A prick undeserving of her time? After she came out all this way to speak to you. Tsk, the voices sneered.

Piss right off to hell. You first.

“Come on.” Dean jerked his chin at you, averting his gaze almost immediately when he saw your eyes narrow. He half expected you to start arguing, or to continue sitting there in a determined protest, but much to his relief, you rose up before him in a nerve-wrecking silence.

He glanced back at you, noting the light shake of your head before you let slip a hopeless scoff. Before he had a chance to prompt you further, you pivoted on your heels and whipped off into the busy bodies suffocating the bar. Behind you, your perfume lingered like a tantalising trail of candy, one that he knew he’d have no return from if he followed. But he did, anyway—the same way Hansel did Gretel because something about you had always felt like the home he’d never had. Even if he might burn it all down eventually.

He kept you in his sight all the way until the bar’s entrance, where you both eventually slipped out into the cool, unwelcoming air of the night. Dean drew up beside your hovering figure, his hand brought up to cradle your back and guide you to where he’d parked the Impala. He tried to catch your eye to ask whether you’d like his jacket because he felt your faint trembling beneath his hand, but you seemed to stop noticing he existed. Maybe that was for the best.

When you reached the passenger’s side of the car, Dean released you to reach for the handle. It clicked open, and he widened the door with an usher for you to climb inside. But all you did was stand there, tussles of your hair carried in hypnotising whisks by the night’s nipping breeze. He caught the scent of your shampoo, the same one he often found himself breathing in too deeply whenever he’d man the shower after you. And he could still remember it’s name—some limited edition crap he’d forced himself to memorise so that he could find another bottle like it and gift it to you on your next birthday. You’d been complaining for a good month that your current one was running dry.

He didn’t much like the idea of gift-giving, it wasn’t exactly his forte. But he knew the way you and Sammy both lit up at the mere thought of it. Besides, he’d be rude not to return the favour after having received gifts for his birthday from the both of you. Who are you fooling, boy? The best gift you could give her is to get out of her life. Don’t bother playing pretend with anything else.

You finally turned to face him, which instantly halted any and all thoughts he’d slowly been drowning in. There was some new resolve furnishing your features—brows furrowed, lips slightly parted and nostrils flaring with the weight of your own thoughts. But before Dean could ask the first thing about it, your hands came to wrap around his jaw, your lips pressing against his in a firm kiss.

Your lips were so warm against his, so soft that he could’ve fallen deeper into their padding. And he wanted to, so desperate for their welcome that he had to bring his hands up in a gentle bracket of your neck to keep himself from falling prey to his deepest desires. He pulled his lips from yours almost regretfully, keenly aware of your lingering warmth. There was so much emotion brimming in your eyes as you gazed up at him, but he saw uncertainty glare the loudest. He wished he could’ve said something—done something to displace it, but he had to remember where his priorities lay. In keeping you safe. Away from everything that was him.

“We can’t,” he murmured softly.

“Why not, Dean?” You answered with equal volume. He felt your thumb stroke across his stubble.

His lower lip fell loose with a heavy sigh, his head buckling in your hold. “We just can’t,” he repeated.

He waited for a reply, for any sound that echoed your frustrated with him, but you said nothing as your hands fell away from his jaw. He was forced to release his hold on you when you backed away from him and ducked into the salvation of the car’s privacy, his hands collapsing to his side in regret. He lifted his head to the sky with a brief breath of strength before he reached to shut the Impala’s door and tensely made his way around the fore. When he slipped into the driver’s seat, you’d already taken to the view of your window, hand cupping your cheek as you stared at anything that wasn’t Dean.

Fair enough.

He got Baby up and running, carefully picking his way out of the bar’s crowded lot before they hit the road winding toward their motel. The drive’s scenery was quiet, a stark contrast to the earlier atmosphere, and it made the air between yourself and Dean a whole lot tenser. There weren’t many cars, or people, found wandering by at any point of the trip, so it truly felt like the two of you had been locked alone in a room to confront the unspoken elephant. But he wasn’t so eager to pick at that fresh scab. Besides, what else more did he have to say that wouldn’t end up hurting you?

It felt like a lifetime had passed when he pulled up at the motel, the lot desolate save another car somewhere down the line. You finally shifted from your position of gazing out the window, but it wasn’t to look at him. It wasn’t even to reach for the handle that’d free you from this suffocating place beside him. Instead, your head was turned forward as you gazed through the windscreen.

“You’re one stubborn shit, you know that?” You said suddenly.

Dean followed your lead and decided to focus on the bug stain streaking the windshield just above the view of his wheel. “Yeah,” he scoffed knowingly, his fingers restlessly tapping the wheel’s rim.

“You’re just so determined to let yourself suffer alone—as if it makes you righteous in sparing us the hurt. But in reality, we’re already suffering. I mean, we’ve all got our own shit going on, right? The only thing making it worse is that somebody we care about is going through something unimaginable, but we don’t know how the hell to help him because he just won’t talk about it. Because he’s scared about—I don’t know—making us accomplices to his problems, I guess.”

Dean’s head buckled to the view of his lap as he listened to you talk, gripping the wheel’s rim a little tighter as he strangled the emotion threatening to take ahold of him. He heard you shift in your seat, noting as your knees turned toward him for a more direct confrontation. He didn’t think he could endure your frustration for any longer without finally cracking, and that scared him.

“When will you stop being so selfless, Dean?”

He allowed that question to linger in the air. Him, selfless? He wasn’t sure he’d call it that. To tell the truth, though, keeping his mouth shut had slowly been wearing him down. And it was almost as though walling off both you and Sammy had allowed the voices in his head to get as bad as they did. He knew all of this, but still he couldn’t find it in himself to open up. He’d never been good with rationalising his emotions, or with asking for help to do so. After all, growing up, he’d had nobody to ask. So he’d done the only thing he knew how to—suck it up and act the steadfast parent so that he could take care of Sammy. And ever since, he’d never quite learnt how to step out of that role, or how to take care of himself.

“I guess I’m just not ready to talk about it, yet,” Dean admitted in an unsteady murmur. His lower lip began to quiver, and he hated the way no amount of clenching his jaw seemed to quell it.

The hand he’d hovered on the wheel moved hastily to wipe the moisture he felt brimming on the cusp of his eyes, and he swallowed hard to fight his urge to flee the car. There was a loud silence from your side that made his ears ring; he wished you would say something—anything—before his voices did.

“I get that,” you said eventually. It made him release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Your hand came fourth to rest on his shoulder, which made him drew a sharp, shuddering breath, despite your warmth seeping through his layers in a way that should’ve soothed him entirely.

“I just need you to know that you don’t have to do everything on your own,” you continued. “It gets exhausting. Trust me, I’ve been on my own for practically my entire life before I met you and Sam.” You paused when Dean turned to face you. “You wanna know something? Humans weren’t made to be alone—to do things alone. We’ve never been strong enough. That comes back to bite some people in the ass, but I’d say for people like us, it’s a blessing. So count them, Dean.”

And finally, as Dean sat stewing in his vulnerability, held hostage under your intense stare, he understood what glint had been in your eye all along. He couldn’t look away from it anymore. As if you seemed to witness his change in demeanour, the hand on his shoulder began to trail down the sleeve of his jacket in a suggestive caress. It set a fire to his chest, one that made him breath a little deeper for the air you seemed to be stealing from his lungs.

“Listen. . . you’re Sammy’s friend,” he pushed out weakly, an attempt to reason against his pressing urges. He hoped that by saying it aloud, he’d be able to silence the part of him that craved the pursuit of you. But for once, amongst the many voices in his head, he could hear his own—loud and clear in it’s true hopes that you’d be braver than he felt and make nothing of his poor argument. That you’d be brave enough to give him the permission he’d been withholding from himself.

You gave him this subtle squint—he caught it briefly in the thinning of your lashes. And then there was the slight hitch in the corner of your lips. The sight made his heart flutter up an inch. For all the voices in his head, he wished he could hear yours right now. Did you want this as much as he did?

Eventually, he caught you leaning closer to his yearning self. “So?” You murmured, the challenge accentuated by the purse in your lips. “I’m my own person before I’m Sam’s friend. I think I’m pretty capable of making my own decisions and dealing with the consequences that come after.”

Dean’s lower lip sank open at that, his brows quirking on anticipation. “I can’t promise you that. . . this, whatever it is, will be an easy ride,” he said. That I’ll be easy to love, he added silently.

You fixed him a long stare, your lips pressed into a thoughtful line. “I told you, Dean, this one’s on me,” you murmured.

This time, he knew that you weren’t alluding to the drink.

You’ll regret this, the voices barked. That’s my own damn decision.

Slowly, he began to lean in toward you, holding your stare and feeling further encouraged by the eager glint that seemed to grow in their breath-taking depths. The voices in his head blared a united jest. She doesn’t want you, she only pities you. You’re going to ruin her, just like you ruin everything else. You think Sammy’s going to forgive you when you break his closest friend? Traitor. Some big bro you are. You’ve always been selfish. He pushed back a mental answer. Shut. It. They didn’t listen.

He felt his heart begin to thud a little harder at his chest, but he gave a hefty swallow to dampen the feeling, and before it had a chance to return reinforced, he pushed his lips to yours.

Silence.

For the first time in what felt like ages, there was silence. Blissful, unequivocal silence. As if your touch was the antidote he’d needed all along to quench the fire hell had set alight to his brain. As if you’d been the missing incantation he’d needed to chant to keep all his demons at bay. And it made him greedy—this taste of peace you seemed to offer him. So he claimed more of it, the kiss deepening as he brought up his hands to cradle both delicate curves of your jaw. In turn, your hands flew up to bracket his neck, before drawing sensual lines all the way to his nape. Your touch was as gentle as he’d imagined, and as kind as he knew you to be, and he craved more of it. More of you. All of you.

Goddammit, he shouldn’t, but he did. He was only human, after all—even if he was all the worst parts of one.

He pulled away briefly to take the view of you in, lips parted in a slight pant. You mirrored him well, the gentle glare of the lamppost light reflected across your slicked lips. The sight made him burn with a more feral desire. He just had to have you. He was far beyond fending off his selfish desires now.

“Dean?” You called softly, an unsure twinge to your tone. You must’ve thought that he’d begun having doubts about pursuing this because there was a sudden, anxious furrow to your brows. But your hands didn’t falter from his neck, and he sure as hell wasn’t letting you go, either.

“C’mere,” he breathed softly, releasing your jaw only to slide his hands down your waist and to your hips, where he settled a firm grip to encourage you onto his lap. You followed his flow so naturally, hands sliding along the toned slope of his shoulders to grip there for support. You manoeuvred across the conjoined seat and reached the first leg over his lap, which Dean cupped at the thigh to steady you onto him. “Yeah, there ya go, you got it,” he murmured encouragingly, and your other leg followed shortly after until you comfortably straddled him.

You tilted your head up to drink in the impala’s ceiling, which could manage a graze of your nose if you lifted yourself any further. “Bit of a tight fit, isn’t it?” You giggled, glancing back down at Dean. He wanted to bottle the sound.

“Hey, she’ll do plenty fine,” he chuckled huskily, his hands comfortably settled at the meat of your hips. His thumbs rubbed tentative circles across your clothed skin, and he watched the way your lower lip drew into a subtle bite. It drove him nuts. He found himself leaning up to reach for your lips once more, but you held him back with an index finger to his chin.

“And just so we’re clear, I don’t have a curfew,” you said pointedly. Dean knew you were alluding to what he’d said back at the bar.

His lips split with a thankful grin. “Hallelujah to that,” he drawled huskily before lowering his lips to deliver a playful nibble to your finger. You let slip a giggle the most bubbly he’d ever heard before plucking your finger away and replacing it with your hungry lips.

His hands found their way below the hem of your dress, where he rubbed a firm line up your thighs. The touch coaxed a moan from your lips, poured into his mouth like the drizzle of honey—he couldn’t help but lap it up. Your hands wandered messy lines up and down the expanse of his neck, even going so far as to tousle his hair. The stimulation drove him crazy and sent a jolt down to his core. The longer your lips spent entangled, the more he felt his jean begin to strain beyond his control—but he didn’t have much adoration left to conceal. If anything, he wanted you to know exactly how you consumed every part of him.

He pulled away from the kiss, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wantin’ this,” he husked. “Wantin’ you.”

He could see the way the kiss had left you breathless, too, and strands of hair had fallen from the keep of your ears to messily frame your face. God, you looked beautiful. “Your damn fault for taking this long to pursue it. I’ve given all the signs, Dean Winchester, but you are as naive as boys come.”

He reached up to tuck the hair behind your ears, making a point to trail his fingers along the contour of your jaw as a knowing smirk felt out his lips. “Nah, just a good ol’ case of self-restraint,” he murmured.

“Oh because you know what’s so good for you?” You teased. Even under the dim lamplight, he could make out the rosy tint to your cheeks.

“I damn well do now.”

“Then show me.”

Dean grinned at your blatant challenge, hands moving to grab at your hips. He slowly began grounding you against his erection, which plucked from your lips a series of noises that began to grow more and more lewd with each passing second. He felt your nails digging into his shoulders, the padding of his jacket cushioning the sensation into gentle kneading. He couldn’t help but grunt with each blissful stroke against him—god, he could do this all night. It wasn’t long before you’d taken over the job entirely, your hips stirring back and fourth across his lap to a slow, tantalising rhythm that made his head loll back against the seat.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his teeth grit as he endured the waves of pleasure riding its way through every nerve of his body. His fought the urge to flutter his eyes closed, to drown in the darkness of his euphoria because there was no way in hell he was missing a single detail about you—lower lip nibbled, fluttering lashes, heaving chest, a show all for him.

“You like that?” You asked thinly, your eyes fluttering closed as you threw your head back with a single, harsh push of your hips.

“Like it? You’re killin’ me over here,” he pushed out—a gruff, strained sound as he battled the heat accumulating in his groin. The demons, the angels, every asshole out to get him could go stuff it. At the end of the day, it was you that was going to be the sure death of him.

You let out an impish giggle, your hands releasing his shoulders to plough through your hair in the most seductive manner you could manage. It made him clench his jaw, made his grip on your hips a little firmer than before.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he praised breathlessly, eyes fluttering through his lashes as he gazed up at you. You were mesmerising, in everything that you did. You didn’t ever have to be doing much for him to want to stare. Existing was enough. Doing more than existing was a bonus.

He saw the way you lit up at that compliment, and it made him want to shower you with many more like it. Hunting had its kicks, but fuck, this—you—he could find himself addicted. That should’ve made you dangerous, especially when you were all he needed to take to stifle the voices. But he couldn’t pull away from you now. He wouldn’t. In fact, it only made him want to hold onto you more fiercely.

Your hands reached back for the steering wheel as you sought out just the angle to intensify your movements, and that’s when you accidentally struck the hooter. The both of you jolted with the noise, which made your hands fly up to cup your mouth in both horror and amusement, your hips stilling against his lap.

Instinctively, both Dean and yourself turned to glance through the windscreen, zoning in on the door that lead up to the three bed motel you’d been renting for a good month or so. A few tense seconds passed, but the door never opened to reveal an inquisitive Sam, and you both let out with a breath of relief. You collapsed onto the crown of Dean’s head with a fit of laughter, practically hugging his head. He burrowed into your chest with his own chuckle as his hands dragged up your body to wrap around your waist in a hug.

“I’m thinkin’ maybe we should move this party to the backseat,” he murmured against you.

You pulled back to face him, hands entangling at the nape of his neck. “I think that’s for the best,” you giggled, leaning down to place a tender kiss on his lips. He loved how gentle your touch felt, like he was being admired more than desired—something to savour and not to lap up like a greedy, guilty cheat meal. It made him feel valued, and he’d take every damn second of this night to return the favour.

He received your kiss eagerly, eyes falling shut as he basked in your soothing warmth. He found himself breathing a little deeper, your scent streaming in to envelop him further in your essence—as if he craved to be remade in your image. Then, much to his disappointment, you pulled away and left his lips bare as you began to shift from his lap. He watched as you reached past his torso to bend yourself over the seat, and then with a few noises of effort here and there, you heaved yourself over—your flailing foot nearly striking his eye in the process.

“You good?” He called back, twisting in his spot to catch you sprawled on your back along the seat. Oh, you were comfortable, all right.

“Just get over here, Lover Boy,” you giggled, hands grabbing the empty air.

Dean chuckled and shifted onto his knees with a grunt, carefully reaching over the seats to place his hands on either side of your torso. He got the last of himself over so that he towered over your waiting figure, the necklace permanently wrung around his neck slipping his top to dangle toward you. Your eyes latched onto it curiously before you reached up to hold it between cautious fingers. He half expected you to ask about it, but instead, you released it and wrapped your hands around his neck, as if nothing other than him mattered in that moment.

Before he knew it, he was pulled down into a kiss, and he leaned down even further to get lost in the taste of you. His hands lowered along your body to find the hem of your dress, where they fastened around the material and began dragging it up and over the curves of your legs. When he’d gotten to your torso, he broke off the kiss to lift himself a fraction, your hands coming up to aid the removal of your dress. He slipped it over your head and tossed it onto the floor before moving to shed his own jacket and layered shirts. The clutter of your shoes falling to the floor sounded some ways behind him, and he took a moment to do the same, shrugging off his boots into the oblivion below.

He took a moment to glance you over, almost naked save the pretty set of lace underwear. He’d pictured this moment far too many times than he’d like to admit, and now he drank in your every curve, scar and blemish, and marvelled at the soft sheen of your skin to the point where he hoped he’d come to memorise you. Somewhere in the mix, he picked up the sweet tang of your lotion.

“God,” he pushed out absentmindedly, his hands moving to rub soft lines down your waist.

“A believer now, are we?” You poked, your back arching an inch off the seat as you bathed in his endearing touch.

Dean jerked his chin. “I mean, come on,” he grinned, doing another sweep of your body before he leaned down to litter soft kisses along your neck. Your head caved further into the seat, broadening the horizon for his appreciative lips to explore as they pleased—and they did.

He drew passionate lines all over the curve of your neck, even managing a sneaky trail up to your ears, where he nibbled lovingly at the lobe. You giggled, the sound pure music and bliss to his ears. He wandered all the way down to your collarbones, experimenting with light nibbles along the tender anatomy before he soothed it with a slow kiss. You let out a passionate moan that spurred him on, the strain in his jeans becoming far tighter than he could bear, but he couldn’t stop himself from exploring every inch of you just yet. He intended on pressing all of your buttons—desperate to know just how many sounds he could coax from you.

He dipped down to place a kiss on your breast, so perfectly hoisted by the bra he sought to slip from your body. He pulled back in a light pant, his hands coming up to fulfil his wishes. Thankfully, it was one of those that unhooked in the front. It sure as hell would save the extra effort. While he reached for the clip, your hands wandered up his muscled forearms, thumbs tracing over the veins of your choice. He stole a glance from you, noting how you seemed as enticed by him as he felt by you, before he turned his focus back to your bra with a sheepish grin on his lips.

“What’s got you more flustered than a frat boy with a serious crush?” You asked, your hands straying from his arms to trail down his toned abdomen.

Your touch stopped just shy of his navel, but the heat carried all the way to his groin. “Don’t you play games with me,” he warned through a smirk, the bra’s clip coming undone. Slowly, he parted the cupping, his breath usurped by the view of your spreading breasts. “Y’know what, play as many games as you’d like—but keep the damn view, will ya?” He chuckled, aiding your efforts to shimmy the bra straps from your shoulders.

Your hands hovered half-way over the hem of his pants, framing his gently carved v-lines in admiration. And then you began to undo the button of his jean, the zipper splitting downward in a slow and steady whir that hoisted his primal urges. You made a point to simultaneously tug at the hem of his underwear as you pulled down his jean, which he shifted to help aid the removal of. He felt mildly embarrassed at the way his manhood bowed with eager anticipation, but you drank in the view with flustered eyes, lips thinning with an exhilarated grin that told him you were marvelling in the spell you’d cast over him.

When you met his gaze again, there was this almost pleading look to your eyes. He answered your silent prayers by bowing down to place tender, thorough kisses all around the curves of your breasts, even taking a moment to adorn your hardened buds with a hot swirl of his tongue and a gentle toying of his teeth. This action alone seemed to tug at your last thread until you’d unravelled into a mewling mess, slurring his name in a manner that made him never want to stop. His hands came up to squeeze your breasts a little harsher than he’d intended to, but you let out an approving groan that left his grip steadfast as he continued his toying.

The hands you’d settled into his hair was the last straw he needed to finally drag his attention lower, where he instilled sloppy, hasty kisses all along your stomach. He reached the hem of your delicate lace, hands gliding over the meat of your hips to hook his fingers under the waistband and yank it down your legs. You discarded the undies eagerly, and with his newfound access to your womanhood, he gave you a content smile before dipping between your thighs to drag his tongue through your slicked folds. He curled his arms around your propped thighs, his nose burying against your clit as he lapped up your core at slow and steady pace. He deliberately took his time to draw all manner of patterns along the tender skin, keenly listening for any hitch in your moans that indicated he’d found a sweet spot. The sound of your undoing? Now that was a voice he’d gladly allow to plague his mind—all day, all night.

He could tell by the progressive loudness of your moans and the more frantic jerking of your lower half that were close to your limits, so he intensified every flick and whisk of his tongue to help carry you to that point.

“Dean—stop,” you breathed out suddenly. Immediately, he withdrew from your proximity with a concerned glance in your direction.

“You all right?” He asked, releasing his grip on your thighs to rub calming circles along your sensitive skin. “If I pushed too far, I’m sor—” he attempted to apologise, but you were eager to cut him short.

“No, it’s not that!” You said quickly, propping yourself onto your elbows to take the view of him in better. “You’re doing amazing—you’re amazing,” you said through a soft smile, your cheeks blown red by a combination of your stimulation and your almost undoing. “But I don’t want to finish just yet. I want to feel you—all of you,” you explained.

Dean caught on quickly, his heart lurching a short distance. “Yeah—yeah, of course,” he murmured, inching his way back up toward you, where he leaned in to brush his nose against yours tenderly before he dipped to place his yearning kiss onto your lips.

“I want you so bad, Dean,” you murmured between kisses—a sweet, breathless sound that cooed into his ear.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how mutual the feeling is,” He breathed, answering your plea by reaching down to grab ahold of his manhood. He delivered a quick, preparatory pump along the length before he pressed it to your slicked folds and dragged it down to your entrance. You let out a sharp moan at that, the kiss temporarily seizing.

Slowly, he began to insert himself into your warmth. You drank him in so eagerly that he couldn’t stop a strained moan from slipping his lips.

“Oh, man,” he mumbled huskily, head collapsing just past yours as he drove himself into the first pump—so controlled and calculated as though he were afraid to hurt you. You seemed appreciative of his pace, your hands coming up to wrap around the toned contours of his back. “You still good?” He checked in as his hips retracted for the second stroke, angling himself to achieve just the right curve that would boldly reach your sweet spot.

You mumbled a feeble mhm, your fingers burrowing little divots into the muscle of his back. That confirmation cemented him, and he took on a steady pace within you, one hand reaching down to grip your thigh in support. It wasn’t long before the impala began to sway under his growing pace, each powered thrust of his hips against yours providing all the momentum needed to rock the steadfast steel. The mingled tune of your moans and grunts filled the isolated air of the car, the windows tinted with a secretive sweat bled from your combined body heat. It carried on for a while, and he could only hope that nobody was around to witness it.

His high came on strong—and embarrassingly, a lot more quicker than yours. He’d blame it on his infatuation with you. That, and the fact that he’d practically cleansed his brain of the mere thought of you. It’d all been necessary to spare himself the torment of fawning over every aspect of your existence, but now that he was finally afforded the opportunity to truly taste you, could he have blamed himself for being greedy? Still, he throttled the urge to scatter his pleasure, straining and waiting as you reached your own breaking point. He knew you were near when he felt the twinge of your nails against his back, and he brought both arms up to straddle your head as he pressed a desperate kiss to your lips.

With a single, deep thrust of his hips, you both spluttered a weepy breath. The knot in his core dissipated into an elated, white haze that consumed his every sense. For a moment, all he could do was hover himself over you, his lips splayed against yours as he grunted into you. Your lips tangled in breathless bouts of air, occasionally snagging in a weak kiss.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed against your cheek, placing a kiss onto the flushed skin.

Your hands came up to cradle his face and push him just far enough to drink him in. “I adore you, Dean Winchester,” you whispered lovingly. “I always have.”

The way you gazed at him was enough to throb his debilitated heart, and suddenly he felt rejuvenated within—as though you were all the motivation he needed to keep on powering his way through this cruel experience he’d come to call surviving. You made him want to do more than survive. You made him want to live—if not for himself, then for you. You were the type of person he’d have fought himself free of hell to return back to. And now that he was back, one thing was for certain—he’d keep on fighting to ensure his place on this earth. To remain beside you.

Dean had never been too good with words out loud, so he gave you a soft smile that he hoped could convey a fraction of what he felt for you. He removed your hands from his jaw, crowning each with a kiss before he shifted your bodies into a comfortable spooning session. Your back curved into his chest, your lower half perfectly conforming to his as he held you against him like you’d slip away if he relented for even a second. And you laid like that until a gentle, shallow rhythm of breathing overtook you, sleep coming to claim you with a haste he envied. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slipped into dreamland as quickly as that—and when he did, his nightmares would turn up like an eager workaholic reporting for dawn duty.

Now, with you nestled between the arms that had come to memorise the shape of loneliness, he didn’t mind laying there in wake. He listened to the gentle whisper of your flaring nostrils, taking in a fraction of the peace etched across your partially concealed face. He was glad that somebody else could draw peace from him and claim it in the way that he’d never been able to claim for himself. He was glad that somebody was you.

It had always been you.

He’d been the biggest fool trying to convince himself otherwise.

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a/n: trying out a new format here bc the old one is exactly that. old. n e ways. first Dean fic—be kind to me!! :’) this was so daunting to write, but boy did I have my fun with it. i hope y’all enjoy this piece, i haven’t been able to get this sad sad man out of my mind. i just want to hold him close at all times. also i’m not responsible for any typos i’ve missed bc it’s currently 2 am and i’m scrambling to get this out. the drafts are sick of it.

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated! ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི

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other works — supernatural masterlist

[gaypirate420]

Viktor running his fingers through m! Readers hair and Jayce is getting jealous of us so Viktor starts giving him a scalp massage too.

This was inspired by that viral post of Viktor High Key being a Dom.

Here nyehehehhe, very short I'm sorry.

Puppies// Jayvik

S1!Jayvik x male!reader.

Summary: Viktor has two puppies in a lab.

Suggestive. Fluff.

Viktor takes a small sip from his drink, the sugary taste of the sweet milk traveling down his mouth, his amber eyes looked down, you and Jayce where on the floor, a chalk in hand as each of you drew his notes on the literal floor of the lab, per his request, something about scaling.

"Is this big enough for you?" You asked a little breathlessly as you leaned back on your knees, going backwards trying not to mess the chalk drawing, a small pout adorning your face as you placed chalk, ruler and measuring tape to a side, you were the first one to protest against this idea.

"it gives me a better view, sweetling." The pale man answered back before returning his lips to his mug, Jayce sighed and shook his head, the sound of chalk and his tired breaths filling the air for a moment.

"Bigger papers exist, V." The tall one mumbled as he kept drawing, his knees already feeling a little sore after being in the cold floor of the lab.

"No need to whine, love, a little mopping will get rid of it." Viktor answered back before taking another sip, you rubbed your eyes, a soft yawn escapes your lips as you rest your head on his lap, avoiding his brace for an inch. His brows were furrowed deep in thought as he saw his blueprint on the floor.

"We have to take a break, we're going insane! We're drawing on the floor! We're scientists not cavemen." You mumbled against his thigh, the sound a little muffled. Viktor shushed you gently and returned to his own little mental palace, one of his hands left his mug, his pale and slender fingers finding your hair. He could feel your tired exhale against his leg.

His touch is gentle, slow, his eyes focused on your tense shoulders, he carefully digs deeper, massaging slowly. Almost as an apology for the burden of making you drag yourself around on the floor drawing.

Jayce finally finished his part, looking down at the whole layout and starting to take mental notes, he steps back to allow the zaunite to see the drawing completely. He claps his hands, getting rid of any chalk dust in them.

The taller man's hazel eyes catch the tender scene, you, on your knees by Viktor's side, your hair getting played with, he feels a warmth creeping on his cheeks, he looks away quickly and tries to focus on the drawing but something else start to brew. Jealousy.

"Hm." Jayce sat down on the floor too, perhaps a little inspired by you on Viktor's left side, he swallowed as his eyes focused on the drawing almost too much and too intensely. Viktor placed his mug between his thighs, he smirks ever so faintly and his hand goes to brush the taller one's hair back, the reaction is immediate, a soft sigh hangs on the air, he leans against his thigh too as Viktor brushes down his neck.

"I can picture your tails wagging perfectly." Viktor said with a teasing tone, you chuckled against him while Jayce whimpers and hides his face on his thigh. Both of you are blushing though, neither pulling away from his touch.

A/N: HEYYYY, hi, how are y'all...I know I KNOW I have some promised fics on the waiting but I'm picky and I want to enjoy my winter break I'm sorry, arrest me. Hope y'all liked this!

[emmy-the-dragoness]

⚠️Spoilers, under cut. For those who didn't see the movie yet, take caution until you get the chance to watch it⚠️

While I didn't think the movie would even take the dark route, (because I personally think it would make zero sense in movie continuity), I am all for AUs depicting Dark Sonic being in it/involved. BUT. I got an even better (and more disturbing) idea concept for AU stuff if people wanna do it. (Feel free to credit me for the initial idea of you want for anyone's AU creations)

----------

Why not an AU depicting a Movie!Fleetway-ified Super Sonic? Let that emerald power actually do something to his heart. Corrupt it. Make him insane/evil when he gets those "kill Shadow" thoughts (even after he transforms). Because in the words of Knuckles from the previous movie, he would "not the same Sonic as you know". Terrifyingly eager for Shadow bloodshed/murder.

But hey, I'm spitballing ideas here y'know?

SONIC MOVIE 3 SPOILERS

more thoughts because I’ve had the night to process more things

I was SO worried that they would do a third act break up with team sonic cuz I’m not usually a fan of that trope but they executed it PERFECTLY oh my god

The way Sonic and Knuckles were gearing up to fight each other with Tails being right in the middle before Knuckles decides to let Sonic know where the master emerald is was done so perfectly, that scene had me on the fucking edge of my seat

I’m actually so serious about Stone being a villain next movie it would be so perfect

I’m gonna make an au where Sonic when dark instead because all of his locked in scenes just screamed going dark to me

Tails being the MVP of the movie means so much to me, like his inclusion in this movie is so much better than two

God I wish we had more scenes with Maria and Shadow I’m just not over their interactions

I kinda love how sparingly they let Shadow speak, it just makes him goading Sonic to finish him off insanely peak to me

I mean this so respectfully but when live and learn started I metaphorically busted so hard

That entire scene when Sonic and Shadow were fighting in their super forms is so crazy because the trailers managed to take us out

Eggman randomly announcing he’s pansexual was beautiful

[marsmaximoff]

💔; crimson pain -a different kind of blood

content warning: gn!reader who plays as number 028. (dating) angst. mentions of death, financial struggles, vomit, blood and fainting.

word count: 1935. i got a bit too carried away 😬

author’s note: finally, here it is. i’ve had this idea for so long but the universe wasn’t on my side, it seems. i really wanted to post it sooner 🥲. as always, constructive criticism is welcomed, and i apologize for the mistakes (english is my third language). oh, and tysm for the support on the jun-ho headcanons post! what do you mean over 1000 likes? that is insane 🤧🤧. i hope you’ll enjoy this one too. 🩷🩷🩷🩷

the sugary umbrella lays on your shaky hand, under the excruciating yet unmasked gaze of the soldier. once the ‘pass’ is given, you stand up ready to get out of there. “you made it!” the voice of the one that has become the closest thing to a friend you could have in here relaxes you ever so slightly. “i almost didn’t. can’t believe i’m adding umbrellas to my traumas list.” having chosen the hardest doesn't surprise you much, not with unluckiness being a part of your life since you can remember. “well, im just happy you did. i thought the square was simple, but now i feel like we should have just chosen the triangle instead, you know? take a look at the survivors; most of them chose it and….” his words fade as an eerie feeling takes over your body, like something’s wrong. turning around, you’re met with one of them, staring right at you completely stiff, not even holding the weapon, merely some feet away.

“is he looking at us?” he can sense the uneasiness too, it seems. “let’s just go.” you can still feel his unfamiliar gaze on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

the doors opening break the silence and the rare calmness of the room. “player 028?” your body freezes completely. a stomach drop follows, and your heart rate skyrockets. no. nonono. you’ve done nothing wrong. is it the dalgona? the figure was perfectly carved out; you made sure of it. are they gonna kill you? two soldiers stand by the entrance, waiting. with a final glance at your friend, who is most definitely thinking the same, you reach the pink guards. you don’t even know what to say, should you beg for mercy? try to stay as cooperative as possible? “be quick.” what? the other one grabs your arm and begins to lead you somewhere. “i-i don’t-” your hands are shaking. “please, i didn’t do anything wrong...” begging it is. “keep. walking.” the words are almost a whisper, tho demanding. a hint of desperation can be heard as well. “okay, okay, ok-” wait. why did those words- no. you’re going crazy. it’s just the anxiety, the fear. 

the stranger takes you to the bathrooms and quickly closes the door. you step back. again. and once more. what now? he wouldn’t shoot you here, right? and why the hell does he look so tense? his hands move to his mask and make it disappear, and with it, the remaining bit of sanity you had.

the nausea from a few seconds ago comes back stronger, maybe you will die today. “jun-ho…” your voice is almost unrecognizable, tho a miracle, given the struggle breathing has become. “what are you doing here?” “i could ask you the same thing.” he’s angry, of course he is, but the hurt in his eyes pains you the most. “no….you need to get out of here.” god. you can feel yourself spiraling. nothing makes sense. “i will. and im taking you with me.” “h-how- when did- i-“ cold sweat has completely taken over your palms. “wait….wait. was it you?…. this morning?” he nods. “i found the damn card they gave you at yours and my brother’s house” what? “in-ho…?” why does everything keep getting worse? “have you seen him?” surely you would remember something like that, “n-no. maybe before the first game…..” you heed your legs’ warning to give up and sit down. “why are you doing this? i dont understand.” it’s not like he could. “they let you out. and you didn’t seek me. you hid yourself. again. i had to learn what was going on from a random man at the station. not you!!” silence between you had never felt this suffocating before, nor the atmosphere so uncanny. “don’t you realize how dangerous this is? they are killing innocent people! haven’t you realized?! 79 have died today. just because of a stupid cookie? what do you think you are doing?! you could have gotten yourself killed! you have no idea how worried i’ve been.” you don’t look at him. this shouldn’t be happening, he wasn’t supposed to find out.

“please, honey. this is insane and you know it. let’s get out of this madness.” the change in his tone of voice is evident, bordering the plea. it’s obvious he’s making an effort to remain calm, to use less confrontational comments. “i can’t.” “yes, you can. we’ll leave the same way i got here, don’t worry. no one will see us.” but you really can’t. you know that well. he sighs, “why didnt you tell me? how could you hide something like this from me? i thought we trusted each other.” 

distress seems to have replaced the blood running through your veins. “i would have helped you, always. i can still do it. if you need money, i’ll give it to you, it’s not a problem.” he keeps going after your negative. “i will. we can find another way-” “there isn't.” “of course there is. i have my savings, we’ll use them. i can ask for a raise. mr kim owes me after all this time. and i could do more hours-”

“its not FUCKING ENOUGH!” the sharpness of your words cuts all over his face. pain flows out, dripping a bloody red. more silence. you could drown in it. well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“my parents’ house is gonna get seized.” a burning throat accompanies the confession. “i messed up like crazy.” the expected embarrassment doesn’t show up, instead, regret does. “it’s not your fault.” how can he say that? “it is. i got them into this, I'll get them out.” “and you think risking your life here is the only way to do it? thats not true. god, why didn’t you tell me?” you rub your temple. “that doesn’t matter now. you-you need to get out, all this is suspicious.” you are not only trying to avoid the question, the guards could notice at any moment. “i told them you were gonna throw up.” “vomit or not you’re still in the bathroom with a player.” for some seconds, the only noise that can be heard is the shatter of your heart. “honey, listen to me. your parents wouldn’t want this. they don’t even blame you, im sure. how could they ever wish for something at the expense of their daughter’s life?” but the guilt is too heavy, too imprinted on your mind. “it’s not about me. if it were my house, i wouldn’t care, but it’s theirs. i would never forgive myself for not doing anything.” “and there are so many things you could do that don’t need you participating in some psychopaths’ games! do you really not see how dangerous and demented this is? please leave with me.” “jun-ho. think about it. if i ended up here, even after they gave us a second chance, it’s because i want to. no one forced me, and i’m old enough to know what i’m doing.” your replies are getting colder, which you hate. but it’s the only way to make him understand. “besides, they’re all kids' games. they’re easy.” you can only hope he won’t sense your attempt at self-persuasion. “they are shooting people. you could be dead. and i would have never seen you again, or known what had happened.” the urge to cry gets stronger with every word, to dive into his arms and finally feel some sort of calmness, warmth, love.

“i’m sorry that i hurt you, that i made you worry and feel like i couldn’t trust you. but i won’t apologize for being here.” “i don’t want you to apologize. i only want you to get out of here and not die.” his desperation has increased so much it’s swallowed your own distress. “i’ve already won two, i can make it to the end.” you refute. but you read him easily, he is planning to get you out without your agreement, somehow.

“please.” now it’s you that pleads. “if you love me, let me stay.”

his eyes widen, you see them watering. his heartbreak drowns out yours. you are aware you’ve never said anything as painful before. it hurts. more than anything they could do to you here. perhaps you are already dead. “how can you ask me something like this?” maybe you’re desperate, or too blinded by the blame that’s rotting on your insides. or perhaps it’s love. “get out of here. stay safe. and don’t tell the police, jun-ho. don’t even think about stopping the games. i need this, don’t ruin it.” god you don’t recognize yourself anymore. how nice it would be to go back when things were easy. when remorse didn’t control yourself, and you were happy with him. “what do you expect me to do if you die?” “i won’t” “you can’t know that! how can i let the love of my life risk it all when i know i could do something?” understanding such perspective is effortless. if it were the other way around, you too would act like he is.

you approach him for the first time, god how you craved it. your hands cup his pained yet beautiful face and a tear drops. “i missed you.” he says quietly, unable to stay angry at you for long. “i missed you too.” you answer back, wiping the tear. “i missed your face, your voice, your touch. i miss your kisses.” things already ache enough like this, so you give in. the kiss is soft, so fragile, like a bit more intensity would make it disappear. “i love you.” he whispers resting his forehead on yours. “i love you too.”

a knock on the door destroys the illusion. shit. “lay on the floor.” “what?” “lay on the floor”, he repeats, walking towards the door while putting his mask back on, “and play along.” the door opens and the same voice from earlier speaks. “what do you think you’re doing in there?” may that unluckiness give you a rest for some minutes. “she passed out. she was taking too long and not answering back so i entered and found her unconscious.” footsteps grow louder. “player 028…. i don’t remember any health issues on the file… fuck.” you stay as still as possible, it sounds plausible, given the stress. “take care of it, i’ll let the boss know. and don’t take longer.” with that, he exits the room, and you thank his unwillingness to deal with sensitive issues.

sitting back up, jun-ho kneels to your level. “you look good for a faint.” a hint of a smile appears on your face. “are you mad at me?” “i was. mostly worried. i don’t like this at all.” you grab his gloved hands. “i’ll be okay, believe me.” he doesn’t. he can’t. “please, be careful. and think about it. if you change your mind, i’ll be waiting.” you won’t. you wouldn’t let yourself. but you nod. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i hope you’ll carry that with you. i love you so damn much.” his voice breaks, and you tell yourself it’s time to go back, this conversation can only get more and more devastating for you both. you offer the bleeding and broken pieces of your heart. not meaning to cut him this time. and he takes them. how could he not treasure them? you kiss again. it tastes different this time. like farewell. 

and when you get out of the room, you both know that was the last time you’ll see each other. 

[bluem1lls]

hii, could you write a one-shot where se-mi fucks fem reader after an argument/angry? like including really rough sex, degradation, hair pulling, a strap, etc, anything you feel comfortable with. im sorry if this is too horny this is my ovulation week 💔

✧₊⁺ but you belong to me

se-mi x fem!reader

authors note: so clearly, this is very much headcanon shdjdjj i tried mixing both together and this came out! thank you so much to both for the request and i hope u like it!

✦ synopsis: you're so in love with your best friend that is not really a surprise when you two fight because she wants to hookup with a random girl.

but as she sees you sitting next to nam-gyu, talking so close, she needs to show you who you belong to.

content: minors dni, best friends to lovers, jealous se-mi (AAAA), smut, strap on, dom!se-mi x sub! reader, bathroom sex, fingering/oral (r!receiving), slight choking and degradation, hair pulling

i can't believe my anger lead me to this pathetic path.

sitting here, with nam-gyu. that's like... as low as you can get.

"why are you here, doll?" he says, staring at me. "like, don't get me wrong, i'm happy that you decided i'm the best option to hang out but... don't you have a little bodyguard that you're always with?"

i frown as i stare at a blank point. "she decided it's best to go fuck a random girl than staying with her best friend"

se-mi and i have been best friends since senior year from high school. we did everything together, that even lead to eachother being our first kiss for example, but we always said it was a way to experiment, for when the real time comes.

of course, that didn't stopped me from falling for my best friend.

so when we met this new waitress at our usual coffee shop that couldn't stop poiting "how pretty se-mi's piercings are", i didn't liked her.

i was hugging se-mi, feeling cold and confused as she broke our hug to chat with a random girl. random! girl!

that's was so mean of her.

i mean, she has no idea of the feelings i have for her but... she can't be that blind?

right?

so, that lead to us fighting at se-mi's house afterwards, where we were having the last hangout of the year with our group and a few others.

the 'fight' being me telling her how much i didn't liked this new girl as she replied by scoffing and rolling her eyes.

like always.

that brings me to present time. where, the party has already started. i can see se-mi talking and laughing with this girl (she even invited her, i can't believe it!) while im sitting next to nam-gyu, a boy who i know she really fucking hates but just got used to his presence because we're in the same friend group.

"i think the word you're looking for is jealous" he keeps with the conversation. he chuckles as i stare at him like he was insane.

"don't say that. i'm not jealous. i just think it's stupid that i tell her 'oh hey don't hook up with her, she gives me bad vibes' and she still goes for it!" i tell him gesturing with my hands, getting angry all over again.

"you're too pretty to be jealous, doll" nam-gyu says, staring at me.

"maybe not more than a random blonde" i mumble, covering my face.

"hey listen. we might not get along great, but" he says, removing my hands out of my face, making me stare him. "you're the most gorgeous girl in this trashy party" we both chuckle.

i smile, thankful. he's actually making me feel better.

"thanks, i can't believe i'm saying this but... you're actually a decent person" i spoke, smiling.

he grins as one of his hands goes to grab a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear.

as he was getting close, a hand grabs the neck of his shirt from behind and pulls him away.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" se-mi says to him, her face twisted in anger and betray. her stare now focus on me as she frowns. "were you going to kiss him? for real?" she scoffs as she lets nam-gyu free of her hold and sarcastically chuckles.

i stare at her, confusion all over my face.

what was she talking about?

getting up from the couch, i stand in front of her.

"i don't get it. if i get in between your hookup i'm a bitch but you interrumpt a conversation and you're a heroe?" i say close to her face. we're standing a few inches apart. i can feel her breath on my face. i know she's mad. she has the same harsh look everytime thanos or nam-gyu say something that she doesn't like, before punching them.

but i'm not used to her staring at me that way.

"this is ridiculous. we're all having a good time. we'll talk about this later" i say turning around, heading to the bathroom.

i can hear her loud steps following me as i enter to the bathroom. she pushes the door before i can close it and enters, closing the door behind her.

she walks towards me, taking a deep breath as she stares my features. annoyance is clear on her face.

"what the fuck? nam-gyu? that's who you choose to go for, out of all the people here?" her expression growing with irritation.

"oh i'm sorry, i thought you were too busy with the blondie to notice my presence!"

"what are you talking about?" she says like i'm insane. "why does she makes you so angry? you never aprove of anyone i try to hookup." she says, scoffing.

"well, im just looking out for you"

"bullshit." se-mi replies, her expression growing angrier "you push me away, you flirt with nam-gyu-"

"flirt with nam-gyu?" i say, stopping her mid-sentence, confused. "what are you talking about? i wasn't flirting with him!"

"you were. you literally let him get close to you, touch your hair"

"you do that, my friends sometimes do that, i thought it was friendly" i shrugged. was he really flirting with me? "i didn't noticed. i promise"

she gazes into my eyes and looks for any sign of a lie in my face. her stare softens once she sees that i'm not lying to her. she steps closer to me, her body still tense.

"it made me so angry seeing you with him" she said, avoiding my eyes. "i thought you were trying to make me jealous on purpose and.." she stops and pins me against the wall. "it was driving me crazy"

my heart beats like crazy, i feel my cheeks heating up from how close she's standing to me.

"wh-why did it drive you crazy?"

her eyes becoming darker, filled with possessiveness. her raw voice, talks in a low tone.

"why do you think? i want you. all the times i hate seeing someone else get too close to you? i knew i was a little too much overprotective over you but," she stops, lifting my chin so i can stare into her eyes. "tonight? you ignoring me and talking to him instead? made my blood boil. i wanted to bend you against the table and fuck you right then and there so everyone can see who owns you."

i felt a heat set on my lower stomach, my panties becoming soaked for her words. i bit my lip as my stare drops to her lips.

her breath hitches. she swallows hard while closing the distance between us, trapping me against her and the wall. her lips capture mine with a kiss, her hands roaming all through my body as she settles on my throat, squeezing to remove air from my lungs. my hand wraps around her bicep, squeezing it one the choking becomes too much.

the kiss turning into a hungry, desesperate one. deepening as her tongue enters my mouth.

"you have no idea how much i want you" i moan in between kisses as her hands lower to my waist.

"if you keep saying things like that, i'll fuck you here, no time to take you to the bedroom" she says, eyes darkened with desire.

i nod as her kisses go lower to my neck, bitting, licking and leaving hickeys as i whimper.

"when i finish fucking you stupid, you're gonna go show him your hickeys and tell him who left them there" she says in a growl.

i nod, completely at her mercy.

she kneels, her hands slowly going under my skirt as she pulls it up, making me hold it.

"you and this miniskirt have been driving me insane all night" she says, her fingers teasing my folds over my panties. "look at you baby, you're soaked. you ruined this pretty pair of undies. being my whore made you this wet?" she says, her fingers still softly tracing my cunt, feeling the wetness.

"all for you, all for you. please se-mi" i beg whimpering, my puffy clit needy for stimulation.

"please what baby? use your words like the grown girl you are" she says, her eyes dark and feral, staring at the wet patch growing on my underwear.

"please fuck me."

her eyes graze all over my face as a smirk forms in her lips. i whimper as her fingers grab the elastic band of my panties. her face so close i can feel her breath against my cunt, making me clench to nothing. her tongue can't help but swipe across.

i moan, one hand holding to my skirt as the other one heads to grab her hair to pull her closer. she chuckles at my desperation, giving another flick of her tongue.

finally, she slowly begins to pull my panties down, removing them.

cold air hitting my clit, making me squeeze my thighs. her breathing getting heavier as she parts my legs, seeing the wetness covering my inner thighs.

she grabs my leg and places it on top of her shoulder, getting closer to where i need her the most. her fingers slowly teasing my clit as i give her a choked moan.

her tongue meets my clit, giving kitten licks as her fingers lower to tease my entrance. i yank her hair, trying to pull her even closer, making her stop. my eyes become watery.

"n-no wait, wh-why did you stop" i whimper, so needy.

"you're such a brat. you tease all night, you make me angry and you want me to take it to your pace?" she says, two of her fingers enter without warning in my soppy cunt, making me moan loudly. "you'll do as i say when i say it, you're my slut" she stares at me, as my eyes threaten to shut close from pleasure. i nod, making sure she knew i understood.

"lets fuck the attitude out of you, hm?" she says, her tongue meeting my clit once again as her two fingers curl inside of me with no mercy.

her tongue flicks on all the right places, fingers never leaving my inside as she thrust deeper and harder, making me clench.

"i-if you keep going i'll cum...i'm gonna cum please" i moan loudly as her pace seems to go even faster.

my head against the wall, feeling completely overwhelmed by how good she's fucking me. i can hear the squelching sounds of my pussy as she keeps thrusting, hitting that spot that makes me wanna crumble for her.

she keeps eating me, soft moans leaving her mouth, turning me on even more.

then suddenly, when i'm about to hit the climax, everything stops.

i open my eyes wide as i see her smirking playfully in between my legs.

"you're ready to take my cock princess?" her voice dripping in lust as she stood up. she grabs my hips and bites my pouty lips, kissing me once again.

she pounds with no mercy into me with her fake cock, my eyes rolling back from pleasure as i feel her hand squeeze my throat, choking me as she thrusts harder.

"you like it baby? you like my cock?" she says, heavy breathing as i mumble something that sounds like "yeah..yes..yeah"

she keeps slamming into me as her fingers leave my throath and go straight to my aching clit. she circles as i clench, showing i'm getting closer and closer to my release.

my moans get louder as she goes deeper and faster.

"you're gonna cum for me princess? i wanna feel you tight around my cock" she says, her moves never stopping.

i nod, desesperate. "se-mi.. baby i love-i love you so much.. so so much-" i cry out as my mouth opens in a "o" shape.

heat positions in my lower stomach, expanding more and more with each thrust, until it snaps.

i pull her by the neck, kissing her deeply to shut my loud moan as i cum. my cunt pulsating around her cock as she never stops moving, making my orgasm last even longer, while she hungrily returns the kiss. her hand leaving my clit and settling on my throat, choking me while she bites and pulls my lower lip.

"i love you so much princess" she says, slowly pausing her thrusts.

as she pulls away her cock leaves my insides, making me whine as i let my body go numb against the bed. my eyes closing as i feel her move from on top of me to sit besides me

her hands position behind my head, pulling me up to drink some water.

i open my eyes to see her hair sticking to her face, cheeks flustered and her eyes dilatated.

as i stop drinking and slowly sit myself in bed, she kisses me once again, her tongue exploring once again my mouth. the feeling that i'll never get tired of this sits on my chest.

"you didn't think this was all, right baby?" she smirks, breaking the kiss and grabbing my hips.

"you're such a good slut, you like this huh? being a whore for your best friend? this' what you wanted?" she teases me as her cock slams into me from behind, spanking me, leaving a red mark of her hand.

tears running my cheeks from pleasure and humiliation. the moans that came from my mouth chanting her name sounded almost pornographic.

"poor baby, all she ever wanted was to go dumb on my cock. you're taking it so good, my little slut"

she had me on all fours, rutting into me, making me take her whole lenght.

her black strap hitting places that made me scream from pleasure. my face against her pillow trying to quiet the moans she took out of me by fucking me ruthless.

"you only wanted me to fuck you dumb, fuck that bratty attitude out of you. look at you now" she said, spanking me as she went harder. "pathetic whiny baby"

one of her hands on my hips, helping her slam deeply into me, while her other hand threads my hair and pulls it, making me lift my face from the pillow with a moan.

"i dont hear you screaming princess, and neither can the idiots downstairs. i bet they want you like this, but you're all mine" she whispers in my ear bringing me closer to her chest without removing her cock, who fucks into me while my slick is covering it entirely.

she keeps pulling my hair harder and tighter. her moves becoming sloppier as her hand sneaks to play with my clit.

the circles over it and her cock thrusting non stop to my squelching cunt made me clench, the release feeling so close again.

"se-mi..se-mi i'm coming again" i cried as she kept slamming and pulling my hair so i couldn't fall against the pillow. my moans becoming louder with each thrust.

the pleasure taking all over my body, i cried as i felt myself reach the climax. she kept going with her moves, but started to slow down, softly grabbing my body to prevent me from falling hard onto the matress.

she pulled away, the feeling of nothing filling me left me whining. my body lays in bed as my breathing tries to become normal. i felt like i was passing out.

she lays besides me, moving my body to be almost resting on top of her as she kisses my head.

"i never wanted anyone else. and you're dumb for not telling me about your feelings. we could've done this sooner" she chuckles as i nod, tired.

"i wasn't flirting with nam-gyu. i always wanted you" i said with my eyes close, almost falling asleep.

"i know baby. but tomorrow he'll see the hickeys and i'll be happier" she mumbles, closing her eyes to doze off.

i hear a few knocks on the door as we both open our eyes.

"why do we get all the cleaning and you two get the sex? that's so unfair" thanos said, knocking again on the door.

we could hear him and nam-gyu mumbling as thanos laughed at him.

"a chance? "thanos snorts, teasing nam-gyu. "you're stupid if you thought se-mi would let you get an inch close to her" he says as the other guy shushed him.

se-mi scoffs as she hugs me, forcing me to close my eyes and doze off.

who knew falling for your best friend could end this good?

[synvil]

anytime, anywhere // bsf! roommate! rafe cameron

a/n : this is mix blurb and oneshot? enjoy.

warnings : nsfw! dark-ish content (( well not really )), free use! sex, dub-con, penetration, no protection, etc. porn without plot basically

“fuck, [name], you take me in so well.”

The way he slides into your velvety walls, the way you clench around him subconsciously while you lay flat on your stomach and playing your game, it’s almost enough to drive him insane.

You don’t have a care in the world, not batting a second glance to the fact that he’s using your body for his own pleasure, having entered your room and yanked your bottoms down along with his sweatpants. He hovers behind you and teases your clit for a few seconds, watching and feeling it throb with need before he pushes in in an instant.

You whimper slightly at the sudden action, feeling filled up as you attempt to maintain your focus on your game, but it’s too late.

“Damn, lost again.” You groan out in frustration as you lose your game for the nth time, restarting your level while the man behind you moans out in ecstasy, his hips rutting into yours a few times before he releases his load into you, slowly sliding out with a plop, at his cum continues to spurt onto your skin.

“Thanks, [Name].” He exhales in satisfaction as he finds a random rag on the ground and tosses it your way before leaving your room, leaving you alone to clean while you stay distracted with your game.

this was your relationship with your best friend and roommate.

you’ve been single for so long, and desperate for any touch, any sort of excitement in your life, and your friends decide to take you out to distract your mind.

unfortunately you got so drunk that you don’t seem to recall the text that occurs between you and your best friend rafe, who you’ve been attracted to for so long.

“fuck rafe, you’re so fuckin’ hot.. you should totally just fuck me everywhere”

“[name]? what’s going on?”

“stupid.. i’m so lonely and all i want is your cock in me”

“i’d do anything if you’ll use me forever anytime you want n no one elsereeee”

“fuck, are you being for real, [name]?”

“how could i lie to someone like you sexy <3”

and things have changed between you since.

the next morning when you returned home, rafe took care of you and by the afternoon, he asked if you remembered anything from last night. let’s just say you were completely mortified but rafe didn’t seem to be opposed to the idea.

“who would’ve thought..” he teased as he crawls over the bed atop of you. the way your cheeks flush and the excitement in your eyes makes him know that you really want this too.

and my god did he give you what you’ve been waiting for.

and now its just a daily common occurrence.

some examples of your daily life..

In the middle of a movie, it’s just you and him cuddled up on the couch, until you go to get up. In the midst of doing so, you knock the remote off your lap and bent over to pick it up, wearing spandex that rises up your thighs when you do.

rafe’s eyes flicker from the screen to your ass in a split second, and his erection begins to form.

once you stand straight, before you can go anywhere, rafe already has his hands in your waist and pulling you back down onto his lap. you protest, attempting to stand but his grip is firm. “rafe, i’m getting a drink-“

“funny, i’m getting thirsty too.” he murmurs into your ear as he lifts you just a tad, enough to slide down his shorts and pull out his hardened cock free and he prods it at your clothed entrance. “c’mon, [name].” he huskily breathes and you huff, sliding off your spandex and panties. once you do, rafe doesn’t waste another second as he slides right in and you mewl, leaning back against him as he fucks you.

his hands reach the remote that you had grabbed and he clicks play on the movie, resuming the film as he murmurs small hushes into your ear every time you make a noise.

“shush, i’m trying to watch.”

when you’re in the middle of a call with your friends, rafe doesn’t hesitate to step right into the room.

he watches as you laugh at something a friend said, spinning simply on your chair by your desk and he comes over, going down to his knees. he manages to catch you by surprise when he spins your chair to face him but he sends a warning look and you keep quiet, focusing on the voice of your friends on the other line.

and when rafe slides your bottoms off, and his tongue pressed flat against your pussy lips, your hand occasionally reaches up to bite down on your fingers, eyes unable to leave his. he ravishes every taste of you, devouring your pussy as he buries his nose deeper, rubbing your clit that’s throbbing for more.

‘don’t you think so, [name]?’ someone on the other end hums and you manage a weak laugh. “yeah, it’s pretty crazy.” you respond, turning back to your monitor and clicking on some things to distract yourself.

it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming, your juices gushing down your thighs and leaking onto your chair and down his chin as he licks every drop clean.

rafe smirks in satisfaction as he pulls back, giving a slow lick to his lips before he winks and leaves to clean himself up, leaving you alone in a breathless state.



rafe coming home from work, seeing you in the kitchen making dinner for the two of you, it stirs something in him. maybe he’s just frustrated and exhausted from work and he needs a relief, but either way, there’s something about the way the apron is wrapped tightly around you waist, accentuating your curves, it makes him hungry.

but hungry for dessert was more like it.

you’d be in the middle of cutting some vegetables on the countertop, listening to your playlist that plays on the speaker and don’t notice rafe pulling up behind you.

when his hands place itself on your hips, you jump, turning your head. “oh rafe, i’m almost finish with—“

“doesn’t matter. i’m hungry for something else right now.” he mutters as he pushes your back downward so you bent over the countertop, and he pulls at the hem of your pants. he pulls them down, along with your underwear and uses his fingers to rub your pussy softly, feeling as it gradually wets.

You moan gently, eyes fluttering shut and rafe chuckles, pulling his fingers back and bringing it to his lips. he sucks on his index finger for a moment before he licks his lips. “delicious..”

he then leans down to meet your ear and grins. “but while i satisfy my hunger, you should finish cooking, [name]. you’ll need to eat later too.” he then laughs as he licks your neck. “but make sure you have room for dessert after.”

and as you try to focus on cutting the rest of the veggies, rafe is pounding into you from behind; his body thrusting in and out of you while your body and breasts bounce, making it difficult.

and you loved every second of it.

it was practically a no strings attached, friends with benefits relationship. but you didn’t care, if it meant you were rafe’s exclusive free use doll.

but to think this started, all because of a drunken text.

well, it was worth it. you were his, free to use anytime, anywhere.

a/n: porn without plot idk i did this last minute without thinking but that’s bc id love to be rafe cameron’s free use toy <3

hope you enjoyed. :p this wasn’t my best work~

synvil™️ do not copy my work :)

[starkeysmoon]

EDGE OF DESIRE

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: in mattheo riddle's dorm, the air is thick with tension. a few teasing words arouse a deeper desire, and before you know it, the quiet night is consumed by an undeniable, heated pull. 

warnings: explicit content, smut, including unprotected p in v, heavy sexual tension, teasing and playful banter, use of pet names like "baby" and "love," brief dominant/submissive themes, possessive language, light fluff, verbal cues and consent being emphasized.

words: 1,948

the room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of the emerald-green curtains in the breeze. the dim light from a single enchanted lantern cast faint shadows across the stone walls, its glow muted but warm against the cool, dark space. mattheo’s presence beside you felt heavier, more intense, and you couldn’t help but feel the pull of his proximity. 

his eyes were locked on you, studying every inch of your face like he was trying to figure out a puzzle he was dangerously close to solving.

“you’re trouble,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that all-too-familiar smirk. 

you raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. “am i?”

mattheo’s gaze flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. 

his hand moved, almost hesitantly at first, brushing against yours before his fingers twined with yours. the heat from his touch spread through you like wildfire.

“there’s no such thing as trouble if you know how to handle it,” he said, his voice low and smooth, his lips barely moving as he spoke.

you could feel the space between you both closing, the air thick with unspoken words, with the promise of something more. 

your heart beat faster, each passing second pulling you further into the moment. 

“i think i’d like to see how you handle it,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

mattheo’s smirk deepened, his hand shifting to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. his lips brushed against yours, soft at first, testing, but as the kiss deepened, it became more urgent, as if you both couldn’t get close enough.

the room seemed to disappear, leaving only the intensity of the moment. 

his arms wrapped around you, pulling you onto his lap as he deepened the kiss further. his hands roamed over your back possessively, his touch both gentle and demanding. 

he broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, his hands sliding lower to your waist. "you always push,"

you chuckle as you move your hands to the back of his neck, asking, "do i?” 

your fingers play with the hairs at the back of his neck, making his breath catch. his hands tighten around your waist as he nuzzles into the touch.

"mmm," he murmurs against your skin, placing a soft kiss on your pulse point. "driving me insane with it."

"like that, huh?"

he smirks against your neck "exactly like that," he whispers, his voice low and husky. 

his hands move to your hips, pulling you even closer, wanting to feel every inch of you against him. "tell me something... do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?"

you shake your head in response, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you press your clothed core against him, feeling the heat of his breath hitch.

mattheo inhales sharply as you grind against him, a low groan rumbling in his throat. his grip on your hips tightens, assisting your movements.

"incredibly sexy," he breathes out, his eyes darkening with desire as they meet yours.

you let out a soft giggle, the sound playful and teasing, before you start grinding slowly against him, drawing a deep, quiet breath from him in response.

his breath catches as you continue your maddeningly slow grind, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through him. 

"you wicked, teasing thing," he growls playfully, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the smooth skin of your back. "driving me absolutely crazy..."

"you drive me insane too, love," you whisper, a wicked grin playing on your lips. slowly, you guide his hands, pressing them against your chest, feeling the heat of his touch. "touch me here... don’t hold back."

mattheo’s eyes flare with hunger as your hands guide his to your chest. his palms cover the soft swell of your breasts, thumbs brushing teasingly over the peaks already straining against the fabric of your shirt. 

"like this?" he murmurs, voice rough with barely restrained desire.  a moan erupts from your throat, the sound soft yet eager. 

"just like that, love," you breathe, your body responding to him with a need that matches his own.

he can feel your warm breath against his neck, hear the soft moan that escapes your lips. it’s driving him mad. he hooks his fingers in the neckline of your shirt, slowly pulling it down to expose more of your soft skin and the lace edge of your bra.

you increase your pace grinding against him, getting desperate for any source of friction to soothe your burning need. his breathing becomes ragged as he watches you move against him, feeling every grind against his hardness. 

his skilled fingers trace the edge of your bra, tormenting you with anticipation. "is this what you need, baby?"

"yes," you breathe, your voice soft but filled with need. "i need you... now."

his patience snaps at your desperate plea with a swift motion, he rips your shirt open, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room. 

he pushes the torn fabric off your shoulders, his gaze devouring the sight of your bra-clad breasts heaving with your frantic breathing. "look at you,"

you giggle at his reaction, the sound teasing and light, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you watch him struggle to maintain control. he smirks at your giggle, finding it utterly adorable even in his haze of desire. his fingers deftly unhook your bra, freeing your breasts.

he groans at the sight of you bare before him, your pink nipples hardened into tight peaks. "you’re so fucking beautiful,"

you smile at his compliment and guide his hand to my right breast. 

he takes the hint, palming your breast possessively. his thumb swirls around your nipple, watching as it pebbles even further under his touch. 

he leans in, capturing the other peak with his mouth, suckling and nipping gently. "i love these perfect tits,"

"they’re all yours," you whisper, your voice low and laced with anticipation, locking eyes with him.

his heart clenches at your words, a possessive growl rumbling in his chest. he switches breasts, giving the other the same attention as he grinds his hips against yours, seeking more friction. "all mine, hmm? and this pretty pussy too?"

"yes," you whisper, your voice laced with pure joy, a soft gasp escaping as the sensation overwhelms you.

not needing any further invitation, mattheo swiftly pushes his hand into the waistband of your pants, seeking out your warm, wet heat. his fingers find your slick folds, teasing them gently before plunging two deep inside you. "merlin, you're soaked, baby. all for me?"

"need you," you whine, your voice thick with longing, the words tumbling out, "so badly.”

his control snaps, hearing your desperate whine. he removes his fingers long enough to push your pants down, exposing you completely.

his cock strains painfully against his own pants, throbbing with need. "tell me what you need, sweet girl. my mouth? my fingers? my cock?"

you reach out to the bulge in his pants and gently brush your fingers against it. the gentle touch is his undoing. he grabs your wrist, pressing your hand firmly against his straining erection.

"that’s it, touch me. feel how hard I am for you." he lifts his hips, grinding his cock against your hand through his pants.

"all worked up for me, huh?" you smirk, stroking your hand against him before reaching for the zipper of his pants.

his eyes roll back at the sensation of your hand on his zipper. he helps you unzip his pants, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach. he’s huge, thick and long, the head already leaking precum.

he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his hand moving between your legs again, this time finding your clit. he circles it expertly while pressing his hard cock against your stomach.

 "tell me what you want..." he murmurs against your lips "tell me to fuck you..."

you whine, the heat of his cock pressed so close to your core sending a wave of need through you, every inch of contact heightening the tension between the two of you. “fuck me, mattheo. i want you."

with a snarl, he lifts you up and wraps your legs around his waist. He aligns his thick head with your entrance and thrusts up hard, impaling you completely on his huge cock. He holds you there, stretching you wide. "Oh god, you're so fucking tight."

you moan at the feeling, the warmth and girth of him soothing you from the inside. he pulls out slowly, only to slam back in, setting a brutal pace. His hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"fuck, i can't believe i fit inside you." feeling your tight walls clench around him, mattheo grins wickedly, picking up speed.

"guess I'm just really good at fitting in tight places, huh?" he teases, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts that hit that perfect spot inside you.

"oh, fuck" another moan escapes you as his hands tighten on your hips, pulling you down onto him even harder as he lifts his hips to meet yours. he's hitting that spot inside you over and over, making you see stars.

"you like that baby?" He growls, his voice hoarse with exertion.

"mmmm" you hum contentedly in response, closing your eyes, allowing the moment to envelop you completely in pure bliss.

mattheo's eyes roll back in his head as he feels your hum vibrate through your body, sending shivers up his spine. he reaches between your legs, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he continues to pound into you. "fuck, you're so damn responsive. i love it."

stars begin to cloud your vision, and you feel a warm, contented sensation in your stomach, as if everything is aligning perfectly.

his fingers on your clit quicken, wanting to send you over the edge. ''baby, fuck. let go for me, i want to feel you cum all over my cock." 

mattheo grips your hips tighter, angling to hit your sweet spot dead-on with each powerful thrust. his words were your undoing. the tension in your stomach releases as ecstasy flows throughout your body, leaving you shaking for a few seconds.

mattheo groans deeply as he feels your walls clench and spasm around his throbbing cock. he buries himself deep inside you, his own release ripping through him as he pumps hot, thick streams of cum into your pulsating pussy.

he then collapses forward slightly, draping his upper body over yours without crushing you. he presses lazy kisses to your neck as they both ride out the waves of pleasure, his cock still twitching inside you. "holy hit, that was..."

"bloody brilliant," you smile, your eyes lighting up. he chuckles breathlessly, nuzzling your neck before gently pulling out and easing you both onto the bed.

wrapping you in his strong arms, he smiles against your skin. "brilliant indeed. i don't think l've ever come that hard in my life."

"well then, i’m definitely a lucky young lady," you say, your eyes sparkling with gratitude and a hint of mischief.

he grins, lifting his head to press a soft kiss to your lips. his eyes twinkle with affection and a hint of mischief. "you’re more than lucky, love. you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger."

mattheo riddle masterlist | navigation

[scarletwinterxx]

thank your stars all you want but I'll always be the lucky one - choi seungcheol scenario

hellooo~ i am soooo not done with the proposal scenarios😅 this one is a request, hope i did it justice. and yes I did cry again while writing this. Happy new year!🤍

you can listen to your universe by rico blanco for maximum feels. this was insipired by this song🥺

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The soft glow of morning sunlight streams through the windows of Seungcheol’s apartment, the familiar scent of his cologne lingering in the air. You stretch lazily in bed, savoring the warmth of the cozy blankets and the faint murmur of the city outside.

It’s a routine you’ve grown used to after nearly seven years together—his home has become yours in every way except officially.

Seungcheol had left early for the gym, promising to grab your favorite smoothies on his way back. The two of you had settled into this comfortable rhythm, a dance of affection and understanding that made your friends tease you mercilessly. “You’re practically married already,” they’d say, rolling their eyes at how well you two knew each other’s quirks.

Still, in the quiet corners of your heart, you sometimes wondered why he hadn’t taken the next step. Not that you were in a rush—you loved him, and you knew he loved you. But the idea lingered, like a melody waiting to be completed.

Mid-morning, a knock at the door pulls you from your musings. You pad to the door, opening it to find a delivery man holding a small, nondescript package.

“For Choi Seungcheol?” he asks.

“That’s him,” you reply, signing for the box. It’s light, plain, and gives no indication of what’s inside. You place it on the kitchen counter and send Seungcheol a quick text: A package came for you. Should I open it?

His response is almost immediate. Don’t open it! I’ll deal with it when I’m back. Thanks, babe.

His urgency makes you chuckle. It’s rare for him to be this insistent. Shrugging, you leave the package untouched and go about your day, but curiosity itches at the back of your mind.

When Seungcheol returns, he’s casual—too casual, you think. His eyes dart to the counter where the package rests, and he quickly sweeps it up. “Thanks for letting me know,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Sure,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s in it?”

“Just some gym stuff,” he lies, his tone a little too breezy. You know him well enough to catch the slight shift in his demeanor.

Over the next few days, you notice odd behavior. Seungcheol becomes extra cautious, sometimes darting out of the room with his phone or quickly closing drawers when you walk in.

It’s adorable but also maddening. You’re good at sniffing out surprises, and whatever he’s hiding, it’s big.

The breaking point comes during dinner one night. The two of you are seated across from each other, candles flickering between you. He’s unusually fidgety, his fork clinking against the plate as he tries—and fails—to make eye contact.

“Seungcheol,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him as he pokes at his steak. His fidgeting is driving you insane. “Spit it out.”

“What?” he replies, looking up with wide, innocent eyes that you know all too well aren’t innocent at all.

“You’re acting weird.” You lean forward, pointing your fork at him. “I can tell you’re hiding something. Just say it.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he insists, but his voice cracks slightly. “Can’t a guy just enjoy dinner with his girlfriend without being interrogated?”

“Not when he’s sweating bullets,” you deadpan, crossing your arms.

He laughs nervously and takes a big gulp of water. “It’s just… I’m thinking about work stuff.”

“Liar,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe it’s gym stuff,” he says, grinning in that way he does when he’s trying to distract you. “I’m planning a new workout routine.”

“Seungcheol, I know every workout routine you’ve ever done. Don’t test me.”

He groans, dropping his fork onto his plate and dramatically rubbing his face. “Can you trust me on this one? I promise you'll love it and will hate me if I tell you right now. I’ve been working very hard on, can you be kind enough to spare me for now. I pinky promise you'll know soon enough"

You blink at him, stunned by his sudden honesty.

Then, a small smile creeps onto your lips. “Fine,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “But I’m only letting this go because you look like you might combust if I keep pushing.”

He lets out a loud sigh of relief, muttering a quiet, “Thank you.” standing up from his seat to go to you, giving your head a kiss.

The rest of the evening is pleasant, even though you can’t help but notice how Seungcheol keeps stealing glances at you, a secretive smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It’s enough to make your curiosity burn, but you keep your promise and drop the subject—for now.

A week later, the snow falling heavy covering the streets with sheets of white. You love the snow, you've always love cold weathers more even though your body doesn't. Anything below 80° makes you shiver.

Your boyfriend knows this, he learned early on your relationship that you get cold easily so he always brings a jacket for you. Now you own his hoodies, a shared asset.

The air outside is crisp as Seungcheol insists on taking you on an evening walk through a quiet park. It's all covered in snow making the whole scene look magical.

Winter lights hang from the trees, casting a warm glow over the snow-dusted path. He holds your gloved hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he leads you to a secluded gazebo overlooking a frozen lake.

“Why here?” you ask, smiling at his excited energy. “It’s freezing.”

“It’s romantic,” he replies, winking. “Just trust me.”

You shake your head, amused. “I’m starting to think you’re up to something.”

“Me? Up to something?” He grins mischievously

You look up at the sky, it's dark enough to see the stars. Living in the city, it's a rare sight so you close your eyes and send a quick wish to the heavens like you always do when you see a star. Meanwhile Seungcheol watches you, a smile forming on his lips and his heart thumping hard in his chest

With your eyes still closed, you feel Seungcheol lean closer to you. He kisses your cheeks eliciting a giggle from you

“You’re being extra sweet tonight, did you do something?” you tease

“I’m always sweet,” he counters, feigning offense.

He seems restless, though, his leg bouncing slightly.

“Are you cold?” you ask, concerned.

“No, no. Just... thinking.”

You narrow your eyes. “About what?”

He looks at you, his gaze so intense it makes your heart skip. “About how lucky I am to have you.”

You roll your eyes with a laugh, nudging him playfully. “What’s with the cheesy lines tonight?”

He chuckles but doesn’t answer, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple instead. Then another on your cheek. And one on your lips. His kisses grow deeper, hotter, until the cold around you feels irrelevant.

“Cheol,” you murmur against his lips, half-laughing, half-serious, “what are you doing?”

“Loving you,” he whispers, his voice low and warm.

Despite his sweetness, you’re still clueless about his plan.

When he finally pulls back, he takes both your hands, holding them tightly. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

You tilt your head, your curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

He drops to one knee in front of you, and your heart stutters. “You don't know how hard it was to keep this from you, every time you ask I almost wanted to tell you but I wanted everything to be perfect” He pulls a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a glittering diamond ring.

Your mouth falls open, your breath caught in your chest.

“You are my everything,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “The one who makes my world brighter, warmer, better. Whenever I think about the future, I can only see us. You. Stealing all of my hoodies, cooking breakfast for us, me bringing home your favorite smoothie on the weekend. To be honest, I don't really need any wishes because I'm already the lucky one. But will you make me the luckiest man and let me be your husband?”

Your lips jut out, quivering as tears fall down your cheeks. You can't even form words right now so you just nod frantically, unable to speak. He slips the ring onto your finger, and you throw yourself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you whisper as he kisses you again, deeper this time, stealing the breath from your lungs.

He smiles against your lips. “I take it that’s a yes?”

“Of course, it’s a yes,” you reply, pulling him closer. “You big, cheesy romantic.”

He laughs, his forehead resting against yours. “Told you, you'll love my suprise”

And you do. With the stars above, the quiet of the snowy park, and the warmth of his love, you know you’ve found your universe in him.

[goodmiffy]

god thank you both so much this stupid ass post was annoying me. you ALL eat too much meat. how can you possibly think any part of factory farming is normal? Or that eating meat 3 meals a day is normal, or even every day? it’s not! archeological evidence and evidence from human teeth suggests meat was always a luxury that we ate sparingly. we are designed to eat plant heavy diets. this is the only period in human history where we’ve been able to just go to a supermarket and buy slabs of flesh wrapped in plastic for 24 meat filled meals a week. nothing about that is normal or natural even if we disregard the absolutely egregious abuse that the animals endure. the idea that eating meat is natural and normal is the biggest fucking psyop from one of the most exploitative industries in the world, and you fall for their shit hook line and sinker every time. I am a vegetarian (and i try to avoid cows milk too) and my food shopping is far l cheaper than my friends who eat meat. I’m perfectly healthy, I’m not deficient in anything, and i feed myself very cheaply. if you actually believe it’s cheaper to eat meat well congrats on being hoodwinked by an insanely powerful and exploitative industry that has a vested interest in making you believe that. Also women being more empathetic than men is something to be celebrated, they should reach our level -let’s not sink to theirs. the less we fund this male-dominated and abusive industry the better.

Why is it a controversial take to say women shouldn't prioritise a chicken's life over their own? Veganism is not feminist, full stop. I get it, I feel bad for the animals too, but the world isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and as omnivores humans need animal products to be strong and not malnourished. Women are raised to be overly empathetic to anything other than themselves. You can't buy into this self-destruction, be on an EXTREMELY restrictive diet, and call yourself a radical feminist. I thought we were fighting diet culture here.

I will go to the gym and eat a steak for every woman that diets herself into being tiny and weak and skinny, don't @ me. A female human being is not a fucking squirrel. Be in a misogynistic cult if you want to, but don't shame other women for not joining it.

[protect-namine]

this post is about qiao ling. but first, I want to talk about the power rangers of this show.

so. I'm really glad YE2 is putting the triple star warrior mirroring in a more interesting context

because that's clearly the intent and it's not like it doesn't make sense back in S1, but the actual execution of that mirroring seemed shallow at best with just S1 knowledge

(look! qiao ling even bought cake of them in the S2 finale)

I think it's because I couldn't quite place qiao ling's role in this until now. she's the star of wisdom, but she's the one who is the most out of the loop and lacking in knowledge... or so we thought. but with the S2 ending giving her tianxi's ability, and YE2 showing that it's a pattern for her to keep relevant information, then yeah, it's starting to make sense. the triple star warriors really are their character arcs.

star of justice, bringing hope (cheng xiaoshi's kindness being both a strength and a weakness that can either uplift or endanger other people; "even if you don't see hope, it doesn't mean it's not there")

star of courage, conquering fear (lu guang timelooping himself is the most extreme response to fear he has over cheng xiaoshi's death)

star of wisdom, serving knowledge (qiao ling and the burden of knowledge that she keeps from people out of guilt or protection)

and they really do need to overcome all of that to get the good ending.

anyway, I just think it's neat. I thought the triple star warriors mirroring was cute back in S1, but now I love it even more knowing qiao ling's place in all of this. I actually love this trait about her. she is always taking care of other people and has "big sister" vibes. she's the one who actually goes out of her way to find clients for shiguang to help and hearing their clients' troubles, even when she had no idea how their abilities worked. she's the one who truly connected with tianxi and knew how to communicate with her — even better than cheng xiaoshi could, and cheng xiaoshi was the one who actually got to live as tianxi.

it's in her nature to care for others, but it's also her biggest flaw. much like lu guang, in her desire to keep cheng xiaoshi safe in her own way, she hides relevant information from him. and the act of secret keeping causes her to keep doing it out of guilt too — as we've seen in the doudou case. it's a very human trait to have.

it puts the earthquake arc in a new context. a young cheng xiaoshi went to qiao ling, distraught over the possibility that maybe his parents died in the earthquake. young qiao ling, wanting to comfort cheng xiaoshi but also knowing that her parents were advised that it's safer for cheng xiaoshi to not go to bridon, tells him that his parents are probably somewhere "far away" and wasn't caught in the earthquake. this isn't just words for the sake of comfort. she has reason to believe this is actually true.

she's in a tough spot when S3 rolls around, because she should, by then, know about cheng xiaoshi's death, if not possibly everything that happened in bridon (through tianxi's power/memory transfer). unlike lu guang, who is dead set on timelooping himself as a way to fix things, qiao ling is in a precarious spot.

should she honor aunt shao's wish and keep cheng xiaoshi safe, which she also wants? or should she tell cheng xiaoshi information he rightfully should know, thereby allowing him to exercise full agency over his own future, even if that future has the risk of death? and whatever she chooses will affect lu guang too. what is the wise thing to do here?

on that note, others have pointed out how this recontextualizes S1E1 cheng xiaoshi talking about his parents. looking back, it's insane to me that S1E1's opening scene (not the dive rules, the one after the op plays) has cheng xiaoshi saying, "I won't go anywhere until my parents come back. if you drive me away, I'll hang myself here! then your father will never get a new tenant."

(it's looking like whatever he learns in bridon won't carry over to the cheng xiaoshi of S1, but I digress)

he says this, and both lu guang and qiao ling are sitting there calling him a childish idiot, all the while harboring knowledge about his parents that cheng xiaoshi doesn't have. (lu guang also has the extra knowledge of cheng xiaoshi's death and what happened in bridon at this point probably, but this post is not about lu guang)

like... in S1 this could just be seen as a little "haha okay so this is exposition and this is their dynamic" scene but now... man. qiao ling knew all this time, in this scene, where his parents might be. she knew during the earthquake. she knew while they were renovating the shop.

I understand the reasons behind it, and in her eyes it probably was the wise thing to do. but when S3 comes around, should she still keep hiding it, like she did with the doudou case? when she confronts lu guang about his memories, what will she do?

I have hope that she'll bridge the two boys together. we saw how her strength has always been communication and delivering words. she is the person the clients look to. she is the person that gained tianxi's trust and knew how to meet her where she's at. she is the person who knows cheng xiaoshi and lu guang best.

here's hoping that she can overcome her guilt and desire to protect cheng xiaoshi from himself, and become the star of wisdom the show wants her to be

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

Day 2 - Queercoding Jokes from the writers

I could have done three separate posts on these but you guys deserve a treat! So here are three subtle jokes that the writers make about Mike being gay to queercode him. Jokes are made about men being gay a lot in tv shows, especially ones in the 2010s, however, the ‘subtlety’ of these ones just show that they were made for queer people to pick up on. Or they are subtle clues that after S5, we are meant to look back on and laugh.

1. “El? Sorry, not interested.”

Could have easily said: Sorry, wrong number.

Could have easily said: Damn it.

Stuff like this makes me feel insane but seriously i think its really funny from my perspective (even if it wasn't intentional but like, the writers aren't THIS dumb to put in something like this without knowing how it sounds, right?)

2. "I have an idea. Boys only."

This one just a lil silly and when ppl first started to take this as a queer coded line I was literally like cmon it's probably not that deep. But then again, double meanings do exist and saying stuff like this that can be easily explained away is often used to subtly nod towards something rather than just outright joking about it. This would be to make it so the plot point is still a surprise, but would make sense on a rewatch.

Also, I only really saw this as queer coding when I remembered that Will saying 'A day free of girls' is obviously queer coding as well, and that too is a little double meaning nod towards his sexuality. So why can't it be for Mike- *gunshots*

3. "Straight... straight..." "Right on the money, as I said." "It just doesn't make sense."

Bear in mind this is literally after the van scene where Jonathan sees Mike staring at Will in the rearview mirror from a third-party perspective (meaning from Will's pov he has no clue Mike has any feelings towards him).

I view this line, and really really 'random' ass way of writing what they're trying to figure out, as a joke about the fact that the audience (who are also a third-party perspective to the van scene) have no idea what the hell Mike is thinking. We still have no idea if he knows the painting is really from Will, but we know that Will is talking about himself. And from the way Mike looks at Will, the audience and Jonathan are conflicted because this whole time Mike's been with El ('straight... straight'), and Mike claims to have feelings towards her ('right on the money as i said').

But now it 'doesn't make sense'.

This was a silly one ngl but tomorrow's might be more serious i promise

[facefullofsadness]

now i need yandere!yunjin😞

OMLLLL 🫠 idk if u wanted me to write to this but I'm gonna! bayonetta yunjin as pics bc same-ish vibes!

also cw for non-con

AHAKDHKDJFKG YESSSSS!!! dyk how much I love a yandere concept... it's actually a little concerning but I digress! yandere!jen who's been your bestie for a while. she became friends with you solely to get closer to you, learn every little thing there is to know about you, know your exact routine, understand the relationship dynamics you have, and eliminate possible threats. simply put, she needs to know what to do to make sure you are hers.

you run into her room absolutely sobbing, collapsing into her arms as she asks what's wrong even though she already knew. your best friend had been brutally murdered last night and you were in total shock. she held you in her arms and comforted you as she felt you melt into the hug, seeking solace and warmth in her embrace. she comforts you with a sinister smile uncontrollably emerging on her lips, holding you tight as your face is buried in her chest, unbeknownst to you her creepy expression. she softly calls out comforting words to make sure you know you're not alone and that she'll always be there for you, that she'll do anything to make you feel better.

explaining that you might need time alone for a few months because of how heartbroken you were and her expression turning bitter, not appreciating or liking the idea of you being anywhere else other than with her. she tries talking you out of it, suggesting you stay with her instead, that there's a killer on the loose and you need protection, but you'd rather die to their hands than live with this pain of your friend dead. that sets her off, she's angry you don't wanna stay with her despite everything she's done for you, how nice of a friend she's being, it's so unfair of you to treat her this way after what she's done! you'd rather die than stay with her? then she'll be the one to do it... not until she's had her fill.

flipping you over and pinning you down, resisting because what the fuck is actually happening right now, panicking and fighting against her, thrashing around to get away from the aggressive yunjin with a fiery look in her eye, screaming horrifyingly as she has you completely overpowered, way stronger and more calculated as she manages to tie your limbs down and all apart from each other. you can't move and you're terrified as her eyes burn through your clothing and tears of sadness and grief turn to ones of fear and confusion, yunjin burning with desire as she watches your pretty face distraught and betrayed, blazing with emotion.

after everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me? if I can't have you, no one can... but this is just the start. her words send chills throughout your entire body as she absolutely ravishes you, a feral animal tearing open your clothes and consuming you whole. her possessive hands dragging all over your body, claiming each and every inch for herself, her mouth littering your frozen-in-place state, heating you up despite your mind screaming for her to stop. her hands are greedy, groping and digging her fingers into your skin, her mouth is desperate as her tongue leaves trails of wet desire across your heaving chest, your body covered in red marks, hickeys, and bites. you moan as her mouth trails lower, her fingers pushing forcefully into your wet virgin hole, screaming as she rips you open while wrapping her lips around your throbbing clit.

the pain and heartbreak makes you continue to sob, but the pleasurable heat emanating from your core is undeniable as your body ignites into seething lust, whole body ruined emotionally and physically as yunjin forces orgasm after orgasm from you, squirt and cum covering the insane maniac in between your legs. after everything she's done for you, the audacity for a stupid little girl like you not to fall in love with her gave her no other choice than to make you hers.

[csainzsgirly]

cs55 - "Estoy obsesionado contigo"

smut (18+), oral (f receiving), carlos being unable to keep his hands off you and is obsessed with you, fingering

thanks for the love on that piece 🥹 consider this a follow-up 💓

The sky was so blue, the water was so crystal clear, the pancakes for breakfast had been so delicious. You never wanted this winter break to end. After the escapade in the sauna yesterday, Carlos had taken you out for dinner, spending the night obsessing over the v-necked halter dress you were wearing, clearly seeing the tan lines of your bikini on your tits the dress was barely covered. You stretched out your limbs on the soft cushions of the lounging chair, opening your book where you had left off a couple of days ago, your mind still on your boyfriend while trying to focus on the letters on the paper. This morning had been as dreamy as the others, and you knew you were done for when you poured just a little too much syrup on your pancakes, causing it to drip from your lips and down your chin.

The look in his eyes, dark, predator-like, watched you use your fingers to scoop it up, then licking it from your digits before asking him if he wanted a bite too. Let's say you had to pause breakfast and eat the rest of it while it had gone cold. You wondered if there was a thing as too much sex, a question that would probably make him gasp if you asked him. Because you were going at it like some sex-crazed teenagers, as he had you bouncing on his cock whenever he had the chance, or bend you over any surface he wanted, buried deeply inside you while the large bed in the bedroom protested under the force of his thrusts. You wouldn't change a thing, though. In fact, you were just as insane as he was, and ready to jump his bones whenever you had the chance.

Carlos was currently cycling around the island, wanting to stay fit even though he got enough cardio in. Filthy images of his sweaty body, hair slicked back and his shirt zipped down were enough to make you squeeze your thighs together. Speaking of the devil, or well, el diavolo rosso, you heard the click of his cycling shoes in the apartment, but it took him a while to come outside. When he returned, he had replaced his training clothes for just some shorts, showing up behind you. "Mi linda reina," he hummed, scooping up your hair from the pillows, raking his fingers through, massaging your scalp before leaning over you and kissing your forehead. "What are you reading?" he asks, walking around the chair to move on it with you.

It's innocent, sweet almost, the way he pretends to be interested in your book, while you couldn't even care less about the book yourself. "No idea," you reply, closing it and placing it on the small coffee table. "I was a little... distracted," you purr, turning on your side to face him. A hint of amusement is visible in his eyes, a small grin tugging on the corners of his lips. "Dime por qué," Carlos pushes, fingers caressing your cheek before trailing down your neck, tracing the line of your bikini top down to the valley between your tits. "I was thinking about how you fucked me from behind this morning," you bluntly reply, feeling your cunt already pulsing in your tiny panties. "¿Es eso así?" he clearly wants you to continue. "And how good your cock felt in the sauna yesterday," you hum, brushing up his ego.

Carlos pulled on the strings of your top, which easily gave in to a simple tug on them, making him think you had tied them loosely just for him. A soft breath left his lips at your words, thinking back at how pretty you looked on top of him, tits bouncing in his face, his tongue rolling over your nipples had you making such beautiful noises for him. And he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again, he wanted to hear you cry out his name and whine and whimper while his cock was filling you to the brim every hour of the day. "You're obsessed with me," you hum, a shiver running up your spine as he rolls you over to your back, his hands finding your tits right away. "Don't act like you're not obsessed with me and my cock, pretty," he replies, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Hmm," you huff, hooking your legs around him like it had become muscle memory. Carlos kissed the skin just under your ear, making you squirm beneath him already. He was eager, way too eager to work his way slowly down your body. He wanted, needed to have his mouth on your pussy. The vanilla smell of your perfume and lotion drove him insane, his cock aching in his shorts as he kissed down your stomach, moving your bikini aside like he had done in the sauna yesterday. His mouth buries between your legs, tongue soft and wet as it slides against your clit. He's instantly rewarded with a sweet moan, your fingers finding the roots of his hair and tugging on them as he takes his time to taste you, to eat you, consume you. The heat is bubbling in your lower abdomen, the coil tightening when he sucks your clit between his lips.

Carlos' eyes flicker up to yours, satisfied to see the drunk look on your face, eyes hazed, lust pooling in them. His lips are wet with your sticky juices, making you moan and urge him to continue. Hot breaths ghost over your cunt when his head turns to bite into your thigh, loving to put his teeth in the flesh of your thigh as much as you love to bite into his biceps, or his shoulder, or the v-line on his hips. "Carlos..." you whimper, back arching when his mouth covers your mound again, tongue gliding up your slit, teasing your hole. "Estoy obsesionado contigo," he mutters, confirming your words, two of his fingers sliding along your slit, gathering some of your slick before pushing in effortlessly. It sucks all the oxygen from your lungs, it had your toes curling, delicious pleasure spreading through your body. "Also with this pussy," he continues, honey eyes staring at you from between your legs.

Carlos' tongue slit over your clit again, working in tandem with his fingers. His palm flipped upwards, fingers curling up and finding that spot inside you that made you press your body deeper into the cushions. His other hand dug into your thigh, making sure you kept them spread open. His tongue is tense as he traces figures over your nub of nerves, repeating his initials - CS - over and over again till you were a squirming, wet mess beneath him. His mouth is so hot and slick against you, the combination of his fingers stretching you out so well making you sob with desperation for an orgasm. His muscles shift in his arms, his back as he pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt with precision, the sight of it having you teetering over the edge. You succumbed to the white-hot pleasure, your fingers pulling his hair hard.

Carlos groans at your taste, lapping up what you gave him. His teeth nip at your thighs again, fingers slowing down, but remaining inside you. "Mi amor..." his voice rasps, lips dropping on your clit again. "I'm sure you can take one more," there's a smile on his face, his mouth slick with your juices. You can't do anything else but take it as he continued to eat you like a man starved.

[relicunth]

You into some jayvik fanfiction??

Then have I got the post for you. Arcane twt is beating my ass because the people on that app are so convinced of their own takes that I had to take a step back and realize I have free will and are allowed to like my own thoughts on these characters. I have written some fics that maybe you'll like:)

Holding on to you: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61570234/chapters/157406545 Modern AU - college students. Viktor and Jayce meet in Zaun as kids but after having the best day of their lives, they get separated by enforcers. Years later, they reunite after Viktor talks Jayce off of the roof of his apartment building. They rekindle their friendship, try to be each other's safe space, but both have since gone through hardships that impacted them significantly. Read along as they reconnect, share their pain and ultimately fall in love. Angsty, hurt with a lot of comfort. They do fun stuff a lot, too, so I feel like there's some lightheartedness in there too. I have posted up to chapter 6, but have written up until chapter 10 already and will post over the next few days!

Survivor's guilt and a talisman: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61098436 Takes place after the ending of Arcane. Jayce and Viktor survive their ordeal, but not without their struggles. Viktor cannot seem to get over what he has done. Luckily, Jayce is there to pick up the pieces. I mostly wrote this when I first finished the show because I could not accept the fact that they died (still can't). This was my first time writing these characters, so it was also partly an exploration of their characters. I just think it's a disservice to Viktor's character to just have him live on and go about his business without any guilt. This one is also angsty and has hurt and comfort. And a happy-ish ending. It's kinda open-ended but you'll get what I mean when you read it.

A Christmas to remember: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61467895 Takes place during the S1 timeskip, before it all goes downhill. Jayce loves Christmas, Viktor is ambivalent to it at best. Jayce is determined to make their first Christmas as a couple memorable. Viktor is intrigued to see what he has in store. I wanted to write a stupid, silly, tooth-rotting Christmas fic because I wasn't looking forward to the holidays myself lol. It's just them being in love, nothing more.

I have so many fanfiction ideas, it's insane how much I love these two and how they inspired me to start writing again. I just find it difficult to get the ao3 algorithm on my side, so I'm promoting my own work, as egotistical as that sounds. But if you have nothing better to do, maybe check them out!:)

[lacehartz]

this gif makes me insane !!! the amount of thoughts n pairings i have ugh 😵‍💫😵‍💫 cw in tags.

it’s exactly the vibes of this post here, like hello ??? this is literally dad!rafe pulling up to a shady motel with you before threatening you into giving him what he wants ♡ all bc he’s your dad n whatever he says goes, so u have no choice but to listen !!!

i can also see this being either rafe or barry and the girl they’ve kidnapped .. keeping you in an abandoned, isolated little house while they try n figure out what to do with you. slipping drugs into the water they give you so you stay nice n quiet n docile.

also giving me ideas abt criminal!rafe and the hostage he’s decided is too pretty to leave behind in a robbery gone wrong. manipulates and gaslights you into believing that you’re only safe with him </3 tells you that the cops will never believe you purely bc you’ve been with a felon for so long, so you must have been part of it from the beginning !!

omgomgomg hitman!rafe x the target he couldn’t kill ?!?! corruptcop!rafe and the witness he’s trying to silence ?!?? the possibilities are endless …

[tmnt-activates-my-autism]

I've mentioned this in other posts about the subject: it would be so funny and iconic if the 87 turtles were able to use 80s cartoon logic in their action sequences and it just. Kept. On. Working. It would be such a fun little twist to me. Some iterations make fun of it for its 80s camp (*coughcough* 2003 Turtles Forever *coughcough*), but what if it just really leaned into it?

Like, the 87 turtles have their silly 80s goofiness and campiness, but keep winning fights in the most insane ways possible, doing shit that should not be possible or should not work, and yet they just...can. And nobody knows how they are able to do it. Nobody else can do it. Nobody else can break the laws of physics the way these guys can. Well, maybe some iterations sort of can, but they cannot harness the power of 80s action show campiness and wacky logic.

I can't easily describe it, but I just really like the idea of the 80s turtles seeming a bit goofy at times and having that 80s campy flair, since it's part of what I like about them (especially 87 Shredder since he is so fun), but also being incredibly good at what they do and randomly doing impressive stuff without a care in the world. Like, 80s cartoon logic is really OP, and I want it to lean into that.

~~~~~~~

Also, as you said, the neat thing about TMNT as a whole is that it is an inherently silly concept that manages to work, and I feel like it takes a pretty big lack of self awareness to make fun of the 87 version. Like, at the end of the day, it's literally about a team of fucking turtle ninjas who were trained by a god damn rat. No matter how dark you make it, it's still called Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. At this point, only the Mirage turtles are allowed to tease the 87 turtles. Other iterations can't act like they are superior just because they are darker and grittier.

Stop making fun of the ones who know the concept is a bit funny and actively choose to roll with it. You can make the story legitimately serious and take it seriously, but don't act like the ones who choose not to are inherently lesser because they want to have a bit more fun.

My problem with TMNT crossovers and thier potrayle of the 1987 Turtles!

As much as I have a special place in my hear for the Turtles Forever movie and the crossover special in the 2012 version, I will be forever bitter about the execution of how they were done. Specifically, the portrayal of the 1987 turtles and the relationship they have with their more current counterparts.

The 87 Turtles seem to always be portrayed as very silly and nonsensical, which yes they are but the point has always been, in ALL Turtles’ media, is that they are silly but still capable! Like the whole point of the Ninja Turtles is that it is a silly concept with silly characters but the punchline is that they are still trained warriors that can kick your ass. I don’t like that they made the 87 Turtles the butt of every joke compared to their more “serious” counterparts, when they are just as capable as the rest of them.

Personally, I think it would have been more interesting (as well as a lot funnier) if the 87 Turtles were just really, really good at their jobs. Not because they’re better or more skilled but just the fact that they have more experience and have been doing this whole vigilant thing for way longer than the rest of them. Like I honestly think that should be a “thing” amongst the entire Turtleverse, like the previous generation is always going to be “better skilled” just do to the fact that they’ve been doing it for longer.

Most times experience will always triumph over raw strength and power, which to elaborate that DOES NOT MEAN that the next generation is “weaker” it just means that they need more experience to get to the level of skill that the previous generation is at. For example, when you go into a new job the person that has been there the longest is usually better at the job than you are NOT because you are incapable but because you need more experience to learn and gain the skills to do the job properly.

But anyways, I think it would be funnier if the 87 Turtles were like super OP just cuz they’ve been doing this longer. That’s not even counting their Mirage counterparts, because if 87 Turtles are OP than comparatively the Mirage Turtles (AKA the very first!) are absolutely fucking insane. And not just the Turtles, I want the 87 villains to be fucking OP too!

Like every other villain in the Tutleverse are convinced these guys, especially Kraang and Shredder, are a fucking joke. Then when they “team up” together to defeat the Turtles the other villains go to backstab them only for 87 Shredder and Kraang to go “Uno reverse, bitch! We were letting you do all the work for us, stupid mother fucker!”. Like the concept of the 87 villains being a red herring pretending that they’re just bumbling idiot when in fact they are manipulative psychopaths is so fucking interesting to me, and could have played out so well in their respective crossovers. Because again: they’ve been in this game for WAY longer than their other counterparts have.

I also think it would be really cool (and funny, because first and foremost I’m always going to chose the funnier option) if the 87 Turtles, as well as being the smallest, are the most physically strongest out of all their counterparts. This is partially cannon in actuality because I have SEEN these mother fuckers rip metal sheets off the walls of cars, lift heavy machinery/vehicles in the air with ease, break through brick walls, and toss around Bebop and Rocksteady plus other mutants twice their size like beach balls! These fuckers are probably just walking muscles! I wanna see them lift the Bayverse Turtles up in the air like it was nothing! (Please someone make fanart of this and tag me! I beg you!)

Anyway, the whole point of this rant is that I think the TMNT writers would have better success in writing better crossover specials if they just lean into the fact that the 87 Turtles are the oldest of the bunch with far more experience and skill under their belt AND the fact that they rely a lot on 80s cartoon logic which makes everything so much more chaotic than it needs to be.