#but when the rest of the boys leave the room 👀👀👀 yeah lol yeah I just think they’re neat and I’m in love ok

[aerospectrum]

Antony lookin like a whole meal sometimes

[fandomfluffandfuck]

https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfluffandfuck/730300426715561984/oh-my-god-that-sports-jersey-and-garter-and?source=share

Do elaborate, sir 👀👀👀

related to this older ask answer

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Oh, god, yeah, I would love nothing more than to elaborate. I forgot about that idea that we (mostly @sail-not-drift, but I was there, too, lol) floated around, so thank you so much for reminding me. Quaterback by day, slavering team whore by night Steve scrambles my brain, though, so I'm not sure anything that comes out will be fucking coherent, lmao. There's really something about the peak masculinity, pure testosterone, homoeroticism of college football quarterback Steve taking it like a champ that really gets to me. I mean... 😮‍💨😮‍💨

So, here's some more mush-brain thoughts:

It doesn't end when Steve, Bucky, and the rest of the team leave the private, charged space of the locker room away from prying eyes. How could it? Steve walks around looking like that. His looks--all soft, pretty face and hard, rough body--don't fade the moment he steps beyond the threshold of the locker rooms. So, there's no fucking way. And, fuck, he doesn't just walk, he hustles to classes like that, he studies like that, he plays games like that, he practices like that, and, most pornographically, he runs like that. All. the. fucking. time.

So, it's only natural that the boys on their team are on him like hunting dogs on the fresh scent of a raccoon outside the locker room.

At practice, they're running sprint drills, and the sight of Steve launching himself back and forth across the field, going all out pumping his arms and legs, then crouching to touch the white lines painted into the grass before popping back up and taking off again is too much. The immediate moment coach isn't paying too close of attention or wanders off to talk with admin more privately about game ticket sales or whatever the fuck, the howls and bites start.

They're dogs.

Piling onto him, wolf-whistling at him, making lewd comments and gestures, and smacking his thick obliques and broad shoulders and, yeah, those big fucking tits.

He has fucking jiggle physics.

It's distracting, okay?

He's jiggling and wobbling all over the field, his tight dri-fit t-shirt ringed with sweat under the collar, around his pits, and in a line between his pecs. It's unreal. How does anyone just look like that? Flushed a healthy pink, grunting with effort, and sculpted like a young Greek god.

Shit.

And a damn crying shame that when they're playing games that those tits are hidden underneath all his bulky padding--if only everyone watching knew what they were missing. If only everyone, not just his boyfriend and his loyal team, knew what he was hiding under there.

Goddamn.

You know what-?

Maybe they outta show everyone. And then, when that dirty fantasy crosses their minds, the crowd of sweaty, handsy men high on the exertion of a good workout, loose and feeling good, all look towards Bucky, knowing that he's really the one directing this operation. How about it? Should everyone know?

Steve accordingly pouts at Bucky--Steve just a sweet little seal helpless and barely treading water as surrounded by sharks--playfully trying to get Bucky to make them stop and lay off him so he can go back to his workout. He's whining performatively.

Bucky doesn't call off the dogs. He blows the whistle instead, encouraging the rowdy behavior, pushing off the side of the stadium with his shoulder as he finishes gulping down some cool water. A drop of it clings enticingly to his shapely bottom lip, as he suggests with the quirk of a predatory eyebrow that, yeah, maybe they should. And, you know what, Halloween is coming up. Maybe it's time they show off what Steve really is. Star quaterback, sure, that's one word for it, the G.O.A.T is another, and allstar, too.

But... Bucky gets that dangerous look in his eyes, the one that makes Steve weak at the knees, knowing he's fucking in for it now. And instinctively, he sways more into the hands all over him, squeezing at his sore muscles, needing support for the rising fever.

Also, he's the college's cash cow, isn't he? Maybe it's time he lives up to the name. They may as well pop him into a little cow print bikini for the holiday. His tiddies would look good in an itty bitty bikini top, don't you think?

And a cash cow with tits like Steve has..? They're gonna be milking him for a while.

Suddenly, practice ends up being cut short without coach supervision on account of everyone desperately needing to test a theory: can cash cow Steve cum from just having his nipples and tits tortured, no below-the-belt stimulation whatsoever? They need an answer.

And they're gonna fucking kill Steve through sheer embarrassment and pleasure, he swears it. He's gonna drop dead on the field one day. Every day that he shows up to practice is another step toward that occasion. Today, there is no exception with Steve's weak knees leaving him with no choice but to be hauled off the field by too many hands to count, all of them wanting a piece of him, carrying him away like a flood-swollen river, the current too strong to fight.

The answer turns out to be yes. Yes, Steve can cum from just having his poor tits abused, leaving his hard, hard nipples swollen and red and the smooth, milky white skin of his plump pecs bruised badly. He'll be biting his lip every time he uses his arms or flexes his chest for days.

And start a fucking petition for Steve's tits because the torture of them doesn't stop there...

It's on that exactly fucking occasion where the only thing going down is messing with those perky tits and deliciously pink nipples that the entire fucking team discovers how gorgeous Steve's face looks when in that particular flavor of agony. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, crumbling apart.

So, quickly, tit play becomes a favorite of every pervert on the team (re: all of the bastards). It's always been a favorite of Bucky's, which is partially why he pushed the team to those two hot spots sitting high on Steve's sculpted chest in the first place, but regardless, it's good for Steve. It's good for everybody, a little bit of agonizing pleasure that turns Steve into a mess of urgent squirming and high, pleading whimpers--begging for more or begging for it to stop, not even Steve himself knows when he's drowning in heat. Molten lava pouring over him, submerging him entirely.

It's plain as fucking day to see whenever anyone starts being mean to his sweet nipples but it's especially apparent when he's also got a dick in his ass. He's a slut, he needs filling. So, of course, he's most out of his mind when he's full and he's tortured just enough.

The rock and hard place of it all are two (or more) slabs of pure muscle in the shape of college boys having their way with Steve. And Steve is rubble between them, ground down to nothing. Nothing but bliss, making the most obscene faces as he's fucked full and his nipples are flicked, twisted, and pinched. His glassy eyes roll right back into his skull while his hot, red mouth drops all the way open, his jaw clattering against the floor. He's a whore for it. Drooling, sweating, and turning the same color as a fucking bright red cherry.

That face he makes when he's right at the edge, swollen lips quivering, about to cum from the love of being filled, clenching down, and having his tits groped, needs to be photographed and framed.

Put that shit in the Louvre.

Steve's a mess then--tits touched, ass fucked--and he's an even bigger mess in the locker room showers where he's supposed to be getting clean, not dirtier.

But Steve is nothing if not dirty. He can't help himself! It's in his fucking biology; the same as being a freak of nature, too good at football, is being a whore. It comes so naturally for him to slobber over cock that might as well be written into his DNA, right next to his all-American-football-star gene.

So, in the locker room showers, he's sucking Bucky's dick like he's starved for it and doesn't get this all the time, while a few different boys play with his puffy, pretty pink hole. Bucky's muscular back is slammed against the cool tile wall, his head tipped back, cock shoved deep into his boyfriend's too-skilled throat; Steve's on his knees in front of him, getting hit with the spray of the shower and melting under its hot water, dripping in vast, rushing rivers over his too-pretty curves and plains; the others are dogpiling into the tiled area wherever they can fit themselves in, hounding each other just for a piece of Steve.

It's energetic and chaotic, slippery and heady.

They're squeezing in just to feed Steve's hungry body a few fingers, aching to feel his velvet-smooth walls from the inside that clench around anything they stick up there like he'll die without it. Fingers. Tongues. Cocks. A fist. Even, Jesus Christ, the tips of footballs, taking bets on now much he'll be able to take before he can't stretch any wider and ends up whining through watery whimpers to stop and please, please, please just fuck him instead. Anything. He'll do anything to have a real cock and not a tease. He's that much of a slavering whore for being fucked.

While Steve makes pitchy, desperate sounds around Bucky's cock, gagging for it, their teammates are cracking jokes about how if Steve's athleticism weren't his money maker than this sweet little pussy definitely would be. He'd make a fortune in porn. And, hey, he could use the same kinds of fucking moniquors, couldn't he? Golden boy. Allstar. Playmaker. Captain.

Then, later in the season, they're crammed together, not in a shower but on the busses--the bus time comes with the game. Always does. They have to travel between stadiums 'cause they can't always have the home field advantage, as much as they might want it that way. The treat for such exhausting travel, though, is the post-game ritual involving, of course, Steve.

After a game, it's always so late, and in the dead of night, driving down desolate, lengthy highways, the team is free to wind down. Someone's playing music over their Bluetooth speaker, just loud enough for everyone to hear, but not blasting out anyone's ears. There's pockets of conversation and the white noise of a few players' snores and snuffles as sleep finds them. And, also, there's the shuffling, quiet sounds of each of the team all taking turns helping Rogers with his own cool-down ritual, getting up from their seats to pay him a visit all the way in the back, back row of the bus away from the driver's view.

Bucky stays with him back there for the whole ride, petting his golden hair and keeping an eye on him while everyone else comes and goes. They know how to share intimately well, and everyone knows they get a few minutes--maybe longer, depending on the length of the drive--with Steve's hot mouth around their cock. They just gotta be patient and wait for it to be their turn.

After such exertion that comes with the all-out blitz of a game, Steve doesn't have the energy to actually blow anyone, so he's not. It's not a blowjob for everybody on the team. No one is nutting; they're bonding. It's just a few minutes of safe keeping in Steve's warm, slick mouth.

The sensation of countless cock after cock, heavy and musky and soft in his mouth with thick thighs pressed against his ears and a hand in his hair, stroking him as if he's a kitten purring away in their lap, keeps Steve calm and easy. He drifts all the way home like that. Somewhere hazy and glittery above his body. Out of his body. It takes true fucking brainpower to think on the fly, assessing the whole field, every player and every potential outcome, and modifying team gameplay plans and strategies to fit, trying to lead everyone to victory, so it's no wonder that afterward, Steve just wants to float. He doesn't want to think. He just wants to feel.

He loves the feeling of cock. Heady, thick, and weighty on his tongue.

He loves being full and warm and kept. All the way down the back of his throat.

Especially after a loss--he takes those too hard, being the golden boy of the team and star of the show, after all--cockwarming everyone on the way home, winding down, is what he needs.

It's the perfect ritual.

Speaking of rituals... in the same way rituals are baked into sports, so are superstitions. Everyone knows that. Lucky socks, numbers, and chants. But, also, venues. Home field advantage is a very real thing with familiarity, more of the team fans turning out and cheering, etc. but it's also a superstition. You feel better at home. Other venues, besides being unfamiliar, can be off-putting from something as simple as getting put in the shittier locker room pre-game to something as complex as resting overnight in hotels with reputations for being haunted. Anything to throw someone off their game and get the upper hand.

So, once, when they're away visiting another team, far enough that they have to sleep before traveling all the way home, they're put up in a complimentary hotel by the league, and that hotel turns out to be one of the supposedly haunted ones, naturally, all the way there, the boys whisper in Steve's ears and sneak up behind him, prodding him in the sides, slapping him on the ass, and asking him if he thinks he'll have a visitor in his room that night. A non-living visitor, specifically, 'cause otherwise he's used to a lot of visitors. Especially at night. And, knowing you Rogers, you'll like it? Yeah? You wanna be fucked by some ghost, hm? Wanna take any cock you can get, even if it isn't flesh and blood, yeah? You take silicone already. What's the difference between that and ectoplasm, ay, champ?

Then, because they're all immature college asshole jocks, the team absolutely pranks Steve that night in the haunted hotel.

They do it in the most creative way, at least. Pranking Steve by playing clips of some of the hot, filthy amateur porn they've made of Steve--filming him on their phones, blurry and shaky with the worst lighting and greedy zooms to display the messy, slick gape of his hole around two cocks pistoning in and out of him, the drooling, swollen, tight-fit of his mouth around another cock, and his eyes while they roll back into his head in overwhelmed bliss--in the neighboring rooms and out in the hall. Surrounding him, yet again.

They just wanna see how long it takes for him to realize those wailing, feminine moans are his own and not some little lady ghost crying out to him from the other side.

Plus, if he gets scared enough, maybe he'll need more than Bucky to hold onto, and he'll crawl into all different players' beds one. at. a. time. whimpering and shaking, begging to just be put to sleep with a good old fashioned exhausting fuck because he can't take staying up anymore.

Sure, it's a little mean, but it takes more than one well-orchestrated prank to throw their golden boy off his rhythm. He's got this shit in the bag.

[zepskies]

Omg yay!!! I'm so excited that you were excited loll. But thank you so much, Wayne. I haven't done an Omegaverse story in a long time, and I've never done a series before, so I was nervous/excited about starting to post it. 😅 Can't wait to dive into the rest of your thoughts below! 💞

When I said "amazing start," I really meant it! I like how I'm just being thrown into this setting and feel just as disoriented as the reader 🤓 (I also love the easter egg of it being set in Montana 😁)

Thank you so much!! 😭😭 I love a good "throw you into the action" beginning, and I thought this was a good way to do it loll. And yesss thank you for picking up on that! lol A little Barlen easter egg there. 😏

This whole description was just something else 👏😍

Ooh thank you for calling out one of my favorite moments with her waking up to Dean. 🥰

You mean like apple pie? Hahaha that makes so much sense for him 😂🥧

Ahahaha yeah basically. 🤣 He really does love him some apple pie. 😏

I'm a sucker for the super romantic "snowed-in in a cabin in the woods" type of story. I already know he's going to cook the best meals for her. Melting my heart here 😍

Girl me toooo. Now that I think about it, this aspect of it actually came from a convo you and I had a while back about having a fic set in a cozy cabin, steamy stuff happening by the fireplace, etc. 😘❤️‍🔥 So thank you for that inspo!! 💕

And omg yeah -- only Dean can make a basic grilled cheese and tomato soup sound like a 3 course meall; at least for me. 🤤

Oh, I'm sus 👀 Still wondering if she really was just out there for a hike after her dad's death or if there is more to it (and to her nightmares)

Oooh, as always, your instincts are spot on. 😉 We'll get deeper into that as we go along...

I also love how you characterize a post-season 15 Dean with Saileen going on. He'd totally become a bit of a reclusive loner and retreat to a cabin. Can 100% see that 😅 He really needs some love 💔

He really, really does! 😭💗 Dean's kind of aimless right now, and though he doesn't want to admit it, he's lonely. His brother is essentially moving on without him. And though it hurts him deep down, he understands it, just can't seem to move on himself (yet).

Totally sobbing as I reach the end of this cute moment 😭🥹

The thought of Sam and Eileen having the cutest lil' boy named after his uncle does things to me. 😭😭 Like, I was never much of a Sam/Jess shipper, but once Eileen came into the picture I saw them together so clearly. 💗

I actually snorted. He sounded a bit like PH Dean there 🤣🤣

LOLL yessss. I took some of that line straight from S12 when they have to go to Hollywood/L.A., and that totally fits with PH. 🤣

I can't tell you how much those snooping scenes always freak me out! I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, scared Dean was going to walk in and catch her, but phew... Will he know she was in his room? Can he smell she was in there? Will he notice the journal is missing? Ooooh, I'm so hooked! 👀

Ahaha are you getting Smoke Eater flashbacks? 😂😂 Dean didn't catch her...this time. Unfortunately Dean's a little distracted with her scent all over the place 😂, but you'll see if he catches her next time...

Welp, on another note, guess she's driving right into the monster lore 😂

Ooh she's going deep!! More on that in Part 2! 😬

Oh, I so can't wait to see him fail at that! 😂❤️ This was so fabulous! It hits all the right notes of romance and mystery. Seems like you've conjured up the perfect snow storm 😉

Lmfao oh he will eventually -- it's just a matter of how and when. 😂😂

Thank you again so much, my friend!! I tried my best to pack a good bit into Part 1 while still leaving room for some mystery and a bit of slow-burn friction between these two. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

I can't wait to share what's coming up next!!

Against the Wind - Part 1

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: This is a canon ending-divergent AU, but still an Omegaverse story within the canon world. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, scenting, injuries, hints of angst, fluff and feels. 

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: In His Hands

Your body is mostly numb when he pulls you out of the snow.

You utter a sharp cry when something in your side twinges, waking up your entire body like a white-hot shiv. Your ankle begins to throb as well.

“Hold on. I’ve got you.”

You only half hear the voice, a deep, coarse rumble. His form is broad and dark and blurry, but his male scent is the only thing you register with perfect clarity. 

Alpha. 

A small treble of alarm runs through you. It’s an instinct you’ve had to learn, as an omega traveling alone in rural Montana. However, something else disrupts that anxiety.

It’s his scent. His scent is like the crackle and smoke of a warm hearth. 

Safe. Your body is heavy and stiff and doesn’t respond to your commands, and yet, you feel a measure of calm when he maneuvers you into his arms. It’s a baser instinct, rooted deep in your chest. He begins to carry you down the slope of the mountain, and your vision blurs white…

Like the flurry of snow falling heavy on his jacket.  

You wake up freezing and shivering in pain. A sensation of small sharp needles begins to travel all across your skin. Slowly, as you're able to blink, your view of the dark wood cabin clears and focuses. You realize that you’re bundled in blankets, and laying on a chaise in front of a large fireplace. Still, you’re too cold. A keening whimper escapes you as you try to burrow in.

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

He places a warm, calloused hand on your forehead, and he mutters a curse. Your body trembles further with cold. You part your lips, but you can't yet force your voice to escape them.

Again, he quite literally takes the problem into his own hands. He peels away the thick blankets just to slide himself in behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel their tempered strength when they cage you in against him. You manage to turn your head and rest your cheek against his chest, covered by red plaid. Thank you...

Almost on reflex, you breathe in his scent deeply.  The earthiness of it calms you, warms you from the inside. Your shivering eventually calms and turns to purring in your chest. 

“What’s your name, Omega?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, and it threatens to make you shiver for a different reason as the timbre of it washes over you. 

It’s difficult, but you manage to speak, clearing past your parched throat to give him your name. He nods, as if rolling the sound of it back and forth across his mind.

“Was somebody out there with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, even though the thought elicits a painful twinge in your heart. 

“Who…” you try to speak again, even though it hurts a little. “Who are you?”

You feel him take a deep breath. He hesitates, like he’s reluctant to give it to you. 

“Dean,” he says. 

You roll the name around in your head, over and over. Dean, Dean, Dean…

You smile slightly. “Yeah, makes sense.”

“What?” he says. You hear the raised brow in his tone. 

“You sound like a Dean,” you say, perhaps a little delirious. 

Anyway, that’s when your eyes close on you again. You fall back into the warm lull of sleep, to the sound of a crackling fire, and a feeling that permeates throughout your body.

Safe.

Can’t fucking believe this, Dean thinks, as he holds you. Just when he thought his life was done throwing him curveballs.

He tips his head back against the sofa cushion with a tired exhale. It would just be his luck to find a stray omega wandering his stretch of Big Sky. Montana can be gnarly in the winter, but for the past couple of years, Dean has learned to survive here in this rental cabin for a couple of months at a time, when wandering an empty bunker gets to be too much. At least here the quiet’s peaceful, if still a little unnerving sometimes. 

He glances down at you. Now that you’re warm and sleeping again, he should find something to wrap your ankle and ice it down. It’s swollen, and he wants to take an inventory of your other injuries, so he can determine how to get you back down the mountain and through the woods, back to civilization.

The sooner he gets you medical attention and back to your life, the sooner he can get back to his—even though the thought of leaving you in anyone else’s hands almost stirs a growl in his throat.

And that last part unnerves him, makes him anxious. He begins to untangle himself from you, but his movements falter when your sweet scent filters through his nose again. Cinnamon apples, with a hint of something floral. 

Fuck me.

It’s almost too sweet to be true, but Dean does his best to ignore it…and what that alluring sweetness probably means. 

Dean leaves you in the morning to revisit the site where you fell. He digs through the snow and manages to find your backpack, filled with your clothes, supplies, and your phone and wallet. He returns just in time. 

The falling snow becomes even more intense, until it becomes a quiet roar outside. You watch the snowstorm through the impact windows in the kitchen, and you know what this means. You’re snowed in with a stranger—an alpha, no less. 

You also have a bum ankle, which he wrapped for you. Doesn’t feel broken, he’d said, but it could be fractured, or at the very least sprained. You also likely have a couple of cracked ribs. 

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” he asks, while pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “This ain’t exactly hiking season.”

While you drink some hot chocolate he made you with a bit of whiskey splashed in (for extra warmth), you explain.

“Well, I guess it wasn’t my best idea in hindsight,” you say with a weak chuckle. “I was trying to find my way back, and I…well, I was a bit lost.”

He raises his brows wryly, still sipping.

“And to make a great situation even better, I thought I heard a wolf howl nearby,” you say. “I know most of them would rather run from us than attack us, but you can’t be sure, you know? I had my rifle on me, so I was turning around, trying to pinpoint what direction it was in…and of course, my foot slipped on something.”

You fell down that hill. You think you even hit a tree on the way down, which would explain your ribs. Everything gets a bit swirly, cold, and dark in your memory after that. 

Dean shakes his head. “Gotta say, going out there alone wasn’t a great idea either, especially now. This time of year, there’s no telling when a blizzard like this is going to come through.”

He waves haphazardly toward the storm raging outside. Your gaze falls to the mug in your hands. You don’t really want to talk about your reasons for taking that risk, but maybe giving him a little honesty will get him off your back.

“My dad and I used to hike up here every year,” you confess. “A few months ago…I lost him. So I guess this was just something I needed to do.”

You blow on your hot chocolate before you take another sip. This time when you glance up, Dean’s judgy expression has evened out into something more sympathetic. He lowers his glass.

“Well, hate to break it to you, but there’s no cell service up here,” he says.

You give a humorless huff. “Believe me, I know.”

“Which means no one can come up here and get you,” he continues, “and even when this storm breaks, I can’t carry you all the way down the mountain back to civilization. Not with the snow as deep as it’s gonna get. Now…maybe I can go down by myself and bring help back with me.”

“But another storm could snow me in,” you realize, with growing apprehension at the thought.

Dean nods. “It’s either I take that chance, leave you by yourself. Or we wait for you to heal up.”

He leaves the choice up to you with a gesture of his hand, the one still wrapped around his glass. You weigh those options with a tilt of your head. On one hand, you don't want to impose on him longer than you had to, but on the other, you really don't want to be left alone in this cabin for God knows how long while he scales the mountain by himself, for your sake.

“I think it would be better if we go down together, right? It can be dangerous, even when the storm breaks,” you reply.

Dean nods slowly, like that was what he was going to suggest too. “All right. Well, until you’ve got two working legs, you’re stuck here with me.”

“I figured as much,” you say. Your head tilts as you consider him. He has a gruff exterior, but all his actions so far have been kind, and far more than you’d expect from a stranger. And an alpha at that. 

Not to say that all alpha's are assholes, but you've had far too many experiences with the stereotype: arrogant, entitled, and handsy. Can't forget handsy. 

“Thank you for saving me,” you say, meeting his gaze, “and for…well, being a decent guy.”

Dean’s lips twitch. He nearly chuckles. Instead, he sits back on his side of the couch. 

“Yeah, well, there’s a spare room in this place for you, one bathroom. The kitchen is stocked. I’m a half-decent cook, if I say so myself, but help yourself.”

He gets up from the couch without preamble, to go to his room, you assume. It leaves you feeling at a loss, like he’s trying to get away from you. You know you’re a guest in his space, so you try to respect the way he wants to be alone for a while. He definitely gives off loner vibes. 

You look around and find a collection of vinyl records, and smaller collection of books on a shelf next to the fireplace. You find Gulliver’s Travels, Dune, The Odyssey, The Wizard of Oz—books you didn’t think a guy like Dean would be into. 

You take up The Wizard of Oz, reclaim your spot on the chaise, and start reading.

That night, your dreams are plagued by the crunch of dead leaves, your father shouting at you to run, and to keep running.

The coarse roar of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short.  

You wake with a start, your body both cold and flush at the same time.

Dean is there once again. It confuses you at first, but then it all returns to you in a rush—the where and the why you’re here, once again with the alpha standing over you in concern. He grasps your shoulder and asks if you’re all right. Your breathing is too erratic for you to answer him, your eyes too wide, your body trembling.

Had you been making noise in your sleep? You blush in embarrassment at the thought. You also feel bad for waking him, and all those things get trapped in your throat.

Seeing that you’re most definitely not fine, he sits on the edge of the bed, squeezes your arm, and reminds you. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe here,” he tells you. His tone is deep and even, reassuring.

You meet his steady gaze and manage to nod, trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m okay,” you say, with a shaky nod. He gives you a measuring look, both a question and a confirmation. You give it to him with a firmer nod. “Thanks, I…I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He exhales through his nose, accepting. “‘S all right. Don’t worry about it.” 

You feel the loss of his touch when his hand eventually slip away from your shoulder. As soon as he came into your room, he’s gone. 

Dean leaves swiftly, trying to brush off how the scent of your fear had tugged sharply at his gut even in his sleep. It not only woke him up, but compelled him to kick his blankets off and get out of bed to go to you.  

You were having a nightmare, reliving your fall, if he had to guess. You came out of it pretty quick when he carefully grabbed your shoulder. Every instinct in his body told him to gather you into his arms and cover you with his own scent and protective embrace to calm you down. 

Through sheer willpower, he managed to ignore every single one of those instincts.  

Two days pass, in which you and Dean say very little to one another, besides when he asks you what you want to eat, and how you’re feeling. The alpha seems genuine, but guarded any time you ask him about him; anything that’ll give you a clue into who this guy is, and why he’s here. 

You try again to strike up some kind of conversation over dinner one night. 

“Do you live here year-round?” you ask, around a mouthful of burger that’s absolutely delicious. He wasn’t lying when he claimed to be a good cook. He even made the fries himself.

“No,” he replies. “No Netflix, no internet? Think I’d die of boredom. I just come up here to uh…take a beat, I guess.” 

You smile. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes you just need a break,” you say, even though your tone is heavier than you meant it to be. Your gaze, a bit distant in that moment, sharpens and focuses back on Dean. “Where are you from, then?”

“Kansas,” he offers.

“Oh really?” You brighten with that scrap of information. “My older sister lives in Topeka. She moved there for a job, initially, but then she met her guy. He’s some kind of day trader. Which is just code for sits on his ass playing Call of Duty while she busts hers.” 

Dean huffs, then crams more burger into his mouth. He hasn’t been giving you a lot to go on while you two have been talking. Unfortunately, you have the tendency to ramble and fill the silence before it becomes even more stifled. 

“She works at a bank. Smart, driven, always knows what she wants. Meanwhile, I’ve had about seven jobs in the last three years, none of which were even remotely related to my almost useless degree in Communications.”

“Yeah, doubt you need a degree in communicating,” Dean remarks, popping another fry into his mouth.

 You purse your lips at him, but the glint of teasing in his eyes makes you fight not to smile. 

“All right, smart guy. So, what about you?” you ask.

Predictably, the man’s walls firm back up. “What about me?”

“Well…why’re you up here alone? Do you have family?” you ask.

Dean quirks a half smile. “I’ve got a brother.”

“Okay. Younger, I’m guessing?”

He tilts his head at you, a bit amused at your guess. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I can’t imagine you with a brother who’s older than you.”

His lips twitch. “You callin’ me old, sweetheart?”

You begin to blush with embarrassment. But also, sweetheart?

You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean like…”

Dean saves you with the return of his smile.

“Yeah, he’s younger,” he says. “But he’s the one with the quasi-wife and the apple pie life.” 

“Quasi-wife?”

“They’re mated. Just haven’t gotten around to the whole getting hitched thing,” he explains. “But they’re happy. Dean Jr.’s growing up fast, already running full speed into glass doors.”

His smile is genuine when he talks about his brother, just tinged with a bit of melancholy, you think. 

“Dean Jr.?” you ask in amusement. Dean Sr. laughs a little, and you enjoy the sound, the way it lightens up his face and pulls at the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, can’t say I wasn’t surprised myself to get that honor, but…hey, it works for the kid. He’s got my chin,” he remarks.

He digs into his pocket to show you a picture from his cell phone. Even though it doesn’t have service, you can still view the many pictures of the adorable infant in his camera roll, courtesy of Sam and his mate, Eileen. You coo at the chubby cheeks, the bright little eyes, and the swirled tuft of dark hair on his head.

“Where do they live?” you ask.

“Out west, a stone’s throw from the City of Angels.” Dean’s smile dims. “He just had to go back to California.”

“What’s wrong with California?” you ask.

“It’s full of pretentious douchebags, that’s what,” he says, his voice a dry whip. “Waxed up to the fucking eyeballs, smelling like Botox, Adderall, and sweaty desperation.”

You splutter laughing so bad that your diet coke escapes you in a spit take. It partially goes up into your nose, burning, stinging your eyes, but it’s made worse by the way Dean waves a hand up incredulously. You’ve just gotten half his sleeve wet.

He meets your gaze, and you can’t help but laugh even harder. 

“Wow,” he says. 

“God, I’m sorry,” you say, still giggling. You get up, hobble over to the kitchen counter, and rip off a paper towel to try and pat his arm dry. He takes it from you and helps you back into your seat.

“I got it, Spit Take. Just finish your food,” he says, if with a dancing gleam in his eyes.  

From then on, it becomes easier for you to pull the alpha into conversation. Besides reading, napping, and staring out the window while it snows, you don’t have much by way of entertainment. Not to mention the pain of trying to get around without crutches, as it also jostles your ribs. Dean often has to help you from one room to another, which of course, you get embarrassed by.

“I’m sorry!” you yelp, when he saves you from another crash landing in the hallway. You’re fresh out of a shower, and it had taken you twenty minutes just to figure out how to wash your hair on one leg, let alone dry yourself off and get your shirt and borrowed sweatpants on. The main problem in getting back to your room happened to be the pants themselves. Their length and bagginess made you slip.

At least Dean’s learned to ignore your apologies. He now holds you by the waist, having pulled you against his chest on reflex. With furrowed brows, he notices your pained hiss when you grab onto his arms for balance.

“You okay?” he asks with a note of alarm.

“Ribs,” you gasp. They’re throbbing sharply with his hold, especially after being rattled by the near fall.

He immediately adjusts his hold lower, holding your arm and hip to support you. His hands are strong, but gentle. The warmth and pressure of his touch rattles you more than almost falling into a heap. Cliché as it might be, your heart is beating faster, what seems like in and out of rhythm. A feeling you can’t name stirs and tugs at your lower belly when you hazard looking up into his eyes. They’re a nice shade of green, like a forest floor in the spring.

“You just go ass over tea kettle at any moment, huh?” he quips, his lips tugging upward. “Come on. Where were you headed?”

“To my room, wise guy,” you say wryly, even as your blush heats your face and neck. “But this is a great taxi service.”

He snorts. “Yeah, call it the Winchestermobile.”

“Winchester. That your last name? Like the rifle?” you ask, while he helps you carefully down the hall. He nods in confirmation.

“That’s interesting. You don’t meet many Winchesters,” you remark.

“Yeah, well, ain’t that many left,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, easing you down onto the edge of the bed. His hands go to his hips as he scrutinizes your form for further injury. “You good? I was about to get cracking on some lunch.”

You offer him a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good. What’s on the menu?”

“Nothing fancy. I’m thinking grilled cheese. Maybe some tomato soup, assuming I can find a can in the pantry,” he says.

“Honestly, that sounds awesome,” you say. “Haven’t had a grilled since…God, probably since I was a kid.”

At that, Dean smiles. “Well, I happen to make an awesome one. No less than three kinds of cheese.”

“If they’re as good as your burgers, then I don’t doubt it,” you reply. He seems pleased at that, and maybe a little bashful as his gaze falls away.

Cute, you think. Your smile grows.

“All right, well, stay tuned,” he says. He winks, tossing you a “gun for hand” gesture that makes you laugh. Dean wears a rugged exterior as easily as his winter jacket, but he’s also kind of a dork.

After lunch (delicious, as you predicted), you take the afternoon just to sort through Dean’s records and alphabetize them for him. You hunker down on the floor in front of the shelf, close to the record player. 

“I don’t need all that. I know where all my stuff is…more or less,” he says, with a lazy wave of the beer he has in hand. 

“Oh really?” you raise a brow. “Okay, let’s test that theory. Where’s Boston.” 

“Right next to the White Album, there on the left.”

Sure enough, you find Boston, as well as the White Album by the Beatles.  

“Oh my God, you actually have the White Album?” You open up the double-sided case in excitement to read the list of songs printed on the inside. “This thing is so expensive.” 

“Beatles fan, huh?” Dean says as he takes a seat on the couch. You turn your smile on him, and he stills in his seat.

“Uh, yeah. Who isn’t?” you say.

Dean shrugs with a smile of his own. “Put it on if you want.”

You bounce a little with excitement before you figure out how to turn on his record player. You put the vinyl album on Side B, moving the needle until you find “Blackbird.”

“Of course,” Dean says, slightly teasing. You turn to him with crunched brows.  

“What? ‘Blackbird’s’ a classic.”

“Eh. Everyone likes ‘Blackbird.’”

“That’s what a classic means,” you argue.

“More like a mainstream copout,” he says. You think it’s just to needle you, but you still purse your lips. 

“Fine, Mr. Music Snob. Then what’s your favorite?”

“On the White Album?”

“Any Beatles song.”

“‘Hey, Jude,’” he says, after a moment. There’s some kind of weight in his eyes, a note of melancholy. You don’t miss it, even though you don’t know why it’s there.

“Everyone likes ‘Hey, Jude,’” you quip, trying to lighten him. 

He smiles a little. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

Finally, the snowstorm breaks. Dean ventures outside and brings you back a long, sturdy stick to lean your weight on when you want to move around, though he claims he’s working on a better solution. Now that the snow has let up, he’ll be able to go out to the shed and do some work. 

Whatever that means, you think.

You watch him from the living room when he goes outside to chop some more firewood. 

He should really wear a hat. His brown hair is getting dusted white with snow flurries as he continues to swing down the ax. You notice the power in his tall frame, even covered by layers of his jacket, pants, and boots. You almost feel each chop of the wood resonate in your chest. 

Heat rises in your cheeks when he looks up, as if he senses he’s being watched. You bow your head and pretend to read your book.

His boots continue to crunch in the snow as he makes trips back and forth from the surrounding forest. Aside from the firewood, he brings back a few long, thinner logs that he takes to the shed. Soon you begin to hear the steady back-and-forth cutting of a saw. You wish you could go out there and take a look, but you can’t even get around the house that easily, let alone venture outside.

Your curiosity about this man knows no bounds, and you decide to use the walking stick he found for you in the meantime to get around without putting pressure on your injured ankle. You know it’s wrong, but you end up traversing the long, dark hallway, pushing open the door to the right, and venturing into Dean’s room. 

It smells like him, earthy and tinged with smoke. His scent is seeped into every part of it—the bed, the dresser and nightstands, the dark blue bedsheets, the desk and chair, and even the drapes. It makes you almost lightheaded at the pleasurable feeling of it washing over you.

A shudder suddenly runs down your spine and tugs at your core in arousal. With a sharp intake of breath, you have to shift on your feet, pressing your legs together against the slick already forming down below.

You’re shocked and embarrassed at first. You aim to bolt out of his room, but you stop short in the doorway as it dawns on you.

Your sister is a beta, and so is her husband. She’s never completely understood you as an omega. She never understood your parents either, or the bond they had. She always scoffed at the idea of “true mates.”

Soulmates. It was fantasy and myth, the stuff of cheesy Harlequin novels.

Growing up, you’d agreed with her, even though a part of you deep down always protested. It wanted to tell her not to open her mouth about something she knew nothing about, and would never know. 

The day you met Dean, you knew she was wrong. 

Your more logical mind tries again to reassert itself though. You remind yourself that you barely know anything about this man, no matter how attractive, kind, funny, enigmatic… 

And yet, you can’t shake that part of you that doesn’t rest until you see his face in the morning; until you make him coffee and eat breakfast together, and take any opportunity to pull more threads from him. It’s more than passing attraction. It’s more than just being stuck together in this cabin, unable to escape each other. You know, because the feeling scares you, and it electrifies your blood at the same time.

All these thoughts go through your mind when you turn back around. Slowly, you continue to look around his room, your whole body tingling. The room is neat, more or less, with everything in its proper place. It’s pretty bare though, décor wise. There’s a desk with a few scattered books and a journal sandwiched in between. A smile of surprise forms across your face.

No. Don’t tell me this guy is Mr. Dear Diary? you think in amusement. Though you wonder if it’s another way he passes his time here, especially when he’s holed up in his room.

You know you shouldn’t be snooping, let alone contemplating what you’re about to do…but you can’t help yourself. Biting your lip, you slide out the journal and begin to flip through it. 

You frown at the strange drawings and odd entries—dates, narratives, scraps of information on different types of mythological creatures, and even more strange, on how to kill them. 

What the hell is this?

That’s when you hear the front door swing open. You bolt from his room as quick as you can, not realizing you took the journal with you in your haste. You stuff it up your sweater and pretend like you’ve just come out of the bathroom on the way back to your room. There you slide the journal under your pillow. You jump when Dean knocks on your door.

“Hey,” he greets.

The jolting pains your ribs, and your hand goes to your left side in a hiss. 

“You okay?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. He takes a step into your room, but you turn to him with a nod and a placating hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just scared me,” you say, with a bit of nervous laughter.

He gives a half smile. “Sorry. Just come ‘ere a sec. I wanna show you something.”

He reaches out a hand to help guide you to the living room.

There he presents you with two rudimentary crutches. Your eyes widen as your free hand passes over the smooth chestnut color of the wood. Dean keeps a light hold on your elbow, just in case.

“You made these?” you ask.

“Yeah, just a bit of woodworking. Picked it up over the last couple of years,” he says.

He’s downplaying it, but you’re nothing short of marveling. You set aside the walking stick in favor of picking up the crutches, and they’re even the right size to position them under your arms.

“Now you don’t have to hobble around like Long John Silver,” Dean quips. You meet the sight of his grin with a raised brow, but you soon begin to smile. When you get close enough to him, you lean the crutches against the couch and give him a warm hug, resting your head on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say. It’s something he was wholly unprepared for, but he hugs you back with a chuckle.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

Just then, he tries not to inhale your scent. He tries not to focus on the feeling of your body pressed soft and warm against his. You fit just right. 

After a beat, you have mercy on him and pull away. You take your crutches back up and continue to walk around the living room experimentally. 

“You think I’d be okay trying to go outside?” you ask on your way to the door. Dean tenses.

“Uh, I don’t think—”

But you’re already halfway out the door. He shakes his head and follows you with swift strides. He watches you step out carefully onto the porch like a baby deer. He cleared the snow this morning from the deck and the steps, but he’s more concerned when he sees you considering how you might step out onto the snow.

“Stay on the porch, all right, Bambi,” he warns. “You’re not wearing snow boots and it’s still pretty deep. Not to mention, I’ve been keeping an eye out for a bear that wandered through here last week—”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder in amusement.

“Okay, Alpha. Calm down,” you say playfully. “I’m not gonna go ass over tea kettle.”  

His brow twitches as he frowns. Alpha. He fights not to show his reaction to the way you said it; it calls to his baser instincts, almost stirring a rumble in his chest.

Cheeky little omega.

You keep to the porch, but regardless, you’re happy. You don’t even mind the cold. You see your breath on the air, and you tip your head back, closing your eyes with a smile as the sunshine warms your face. You inhale through your nose and let it out slowly in contentment. 

“It’s a good day, Dean,” you say quietly. 

You don’t realize that he’s watching you with a more reserved smile on his face. When he realizes it, he shakes his head at himself. He’s only been here a week with you, and it’ll probably take a couple more for your ankle to heal up well enough for you to walk again, let alone get down the mountain. 

He doesn’t want to leave you alone up here, so he’ll have to somehow keep fending off your probing questions into his past and personal life. There's a lifetime of blood, nightmares, and death that he just can't let you see behind his eyes.

Hell, he's been trying to shove it all down for the past year—in booze and odd jobs and trips to nowhere, always coming back to an empty bunker. He still wonders how Sam's managed to do it, to move on, and build a new life for himself.

If Dean's honest (and he's not), he feels a bit like this cabin; old, falling apart, and forgotten.

But he’ll have to keep taking in your brightness and warmth, continue arguing with you about music and other inane shit, and pretend that every small touch of yours doesn’t ignite his skin. That it doesn’t make him have to beat down every instinct he has to pull you into his body and blanket you with his scent, ravage you, claim you, and make you his. 

He never thought this would happen to him. He never thought someone like you was out there…for someone like him.

He knows it though, deep in his gut. You’re meant for him. You’re meant to be his mate.

Which means he’s already screwed. 

AN: And we're off! Special thanks again to Michelle (@luci-in-trenchcoats) for being my sounding board when I was first writing this series. Let me know what you think of Part 1! 💜

Next Time:

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed…

When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

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[onlyseokmins]

Hi, can I have your opinion on each member dealing with dorm sex, I mean more like what is going on in the morning when other boys tease them about what they heard. 👀

I hope it makes sense 🙈😄

Have a nice day 💎

OMG hi anon hahaha this made the rest of my workday go fast haahaha I hope I understood what you wanted but also disclaimers: this is my first ot13 reaction and I like to think that I’m funny anyways kisses, thanks for sending smth in :3

Also, I fully believe there is 0 privacy between the members (with respect to their s/o ofc) but lol I just love this idea fjskdfjsd but pls let’s face it – they’re pretty much bitchless

Seungcheol

He’s a respectful man – doesn’t really say or do much and acts like nothing happened but everyone knows he’s had a good sex night because he just oozes laid-back, easy-going confidence

Because he’ll be real stressed, snippy, or kinda scattered the night before

But upon waking up, he’s checking himself out in the mirror and smirking, brushing his hair back and definitely in a much more relaxed and better mood

Actually, the members don’t tease or say too much – they prolly call his s/o over when he’s in bad moods so they can have a happy leader in a pleasant mood like it has the same energy of a happy wife, happy life

He’s already a pretty caring and attentive man in general but there’s definitely a different air about him when he’s taking care of his s/o in the morning

Eyeballing and daring all the members to say something so ofc they’re not going to but there is some snorting going on behind his back

He snarks at them for it afterwards

Jeonghan

Coughs a lot – like over ten times more than normal

Not a menace, he’s actually almost subdued but in a good way

*sips tea* there may be reasons why for that but I’ll leave it at that

Prolly has a bowl of those really old cough drops like you know they’re stuck to the wrapper and half melted actually, ew, maybe he sucks on one for a bit to sate the cough and then puts it back in the wrapper omg disgusting but anyways they’re right next to the box of condoms on his nightstand

Also, prolly brews some hot water or tea in the morning

Members make fun of his poor voice condition because dude you’re a vocalist

No one’s laughing when he points out that his s/o doesn’t have a voice either

Actually, they know very well because they were so loud last night and everyone shudders (including the man himself lbr) because Jeonghan’s dirty talk is echoing inside their ear drums

Joshua

Was really shy and awkward about it at first

But now that he’s gained a lot more self-confidence, he’s super annoying

Actually, asks if he was too loud and then smirks at whatever the members’ responses are lmfao and apologizes but it’s SO fake like “Oh, I’m sooooo sorry chew on some ayl-monds as consolation” *smacks him*

Prolly has and enjoys morning shower sex like omfg everyone hopes and prays this man does not have his s/o over when someone has morning schedules

Yeah, just don’t expect to use the bathroom in the morning

Big fan of domestic things so he doesn’t dry his hair like a normal person but makes his s/o dry it for him

And he’s so annoying really like if there aren’t any morning schedules, he will make them use a fluffy towel but if there are – too bad – I mean at least he’ll use a hair dryer but he’s just really obnoxious and has his s/o use a brush too, just really likes self-care

Will steal Mingyu’s cucumbers from the kitchen for prepping his pretty face routine like real corny stuff giggling and all that as he and his s/o put cukes on each other’s faces – rip to gyu’s salad

Jun

Bro he just sleeps the entire day, so the teasing is pretty stale by the time he emerges from his room the next day because someone else kept everyone awake during the night

If he’s miraculously up the next morning, no one really says anything because sometimes they’re not exactly sure if this man just slept well or got fucked good because like he always got that sexy morning look

Actually a freak though wbk

Has accidentally been found in many compromising morning sex positions and places

Except the shower/bathroom because Shua owns that

But like there’s your bedroom Jun – NO that’s boring

Laundry room sex is a must so yeah that’s why no one in the dorms does laundry huh jk

But for real, the hum of the dryer drowns out the moans, the vibrations feel divine, and the detergent sometimes hides the scent of sex but there’s also nothing like fucking on a warm blanket out of the dryer uh and it can go right in the laundry basket after!

Soonyoung

Extra hyper

Man could’ve gotten a half hour of sleep but we all know his stamina is insane hence he’s just like bouncing off the walls

Either really giggly and shy or sleek and suave the morning after

Walks around in the morning in his (clean) tiger print boxers

No shirt so he can display all the marks and scratches from his s/o proudly like badges of honor

Won’t fix his hair either like if his s/o ruffled it all up that’s how it’s gonna be the next day until the stylists force some hair gel and spray on him

Also it’s a nightmare for the poor stylists because he hates covering up his marks and there’s no way he’s gonna stop his s/o from giving him them in fact he just encourages it constantly – love the possessiveness of it all

Shows them off to jihoon who doesn’t give a shit frankly

Has a bunch of selfies with all his marks and def has a ton of his s/o – almost uploaded one to weverse by accident because technology is harder than his dick

Wonwoo

Has that foreboding aura that like no one dares to say a thing but it’s not intentional it’s just him

Not sure if the sounds they were hearing were screams from a horror game or something else – plot twist – both

It’s funny though because the best telltale sign is his glasses

Has them on in the morning because his s/o loves him wearing them but also like it’s better to be blind when you have to see your members in the morning but it’s different because he wants to actually see and appreciate his s/o’s face

Which ends up being even funnier because his glasses have broken multiple occasions because of all of this

Anyways, gyu is the only one able to crack a smile from him by teasing otherwise it’s a simple poker face

But he’s also extremely obvious about it without even meaning to be like gross he throws the condom away in the kitchen garbage for all to see pls wonu, gyu just wants to make breakfast and the boys just want to eat

Jihoon

Listen – jihoon is my favorite man ever because he acts all unbothered but you know he’s absolutely dying of complete embarrassment inside

Absolutely refuses to look anyone in the eye (just like his s/o jk unless…)

Prolly hides in his studio heck he prolly has sex in his studio because it’s soundproofed and all that jazz but also the members might come in so…

Like ofc he locks it and truthfully the most annoying person is prolly soonyoung bc ofc he’s gonna tease his bestie but prolly backs off now that the man is bulked up

BUT ALSO he totally makes the sexciest songs and beats (not necessarily horny related but like just some good stuff, got some good inspiration okay) afterwards so that’s another hint

*shows the leader line a bomb ass track* Cheol: You had sex didn’t you?

Stomps around like a child kind of like he walks very heavily the morning after for no reason but he’s very loud and aggressive as he walks around the dorm and it’s worse if he has flappy shoes on you just hear slap slap down the hallways…

Or is that what that sound is? HM sus

Seokmin

I know a hot take is that he’s really noisy but I feel like yes, that’s what it’s like in the beginning and he definitely gets teased a lot for it

So it ends up varying – it’s either a very loud night out of control or an eerie quiet

It’s so funny because he likes to act like nothing happened but everyone knows cuz he’s so obvious, cracking his jaw and eating air out of nervousness

Extraordinarily jumpy because he’s trying way too hard to be cool but we all know how that falls through and he’s just a sweet little loser

Rare moments he’s pretty cocky and smug in the morning because we also know that man is sculpted by the gods to give his s/o extreme pleasure so like yeah if he can make his s/o cum like over five times (pretty easy lbr) then like of course he should flaunt it

Very clingy the next day like shrinks himself into his s/o and then it’s worse when his s/o leaves because he’s whiny, pouty, and bugging his members all day

He’s also like very moody we all know he’s sensitive and gets in fights all the time and since he usually doesn’t sleep well for obvious reasons he can be very grumpy and cranky

Which is cute only in his s/o’s eyes because he rarely snaps at them

This is why the members don’t tease him as much before as well

Mingyu

In his goddamn element much like Cheol

Unbothered king inside and outside, all the way around

Skin is glowing, his crops are thriving, there’s an absolute spring in his step (unlike his s/o) as he whistles and cooks breakfast for his s/o and maybe for the boys

Shameless, really – like even if the man isn’t having sex he knows how to be a thirsty whore on main and also he loves giving advice, suggestions, and lending his fellow dudes an ear for their sex woes

Look, everyone can make fun of Mingyu for absolutely anything but no one can ever make him embarrassed about having mind-blowing sex okay

SVT is more likely to fluster him by poking fun at his domestic tendencies and how in love he is and then he’ll be all pouty and sulky because love is beautiful! Sex is great! Stop being so bitter!!

Now occasionally on rougher nights or if he’s in his emotional state of puppyhood, no one will see him until the late afternoon (and hear a bunch of things if he’s feeling spicy)

Otherwise, it’s gyu’s world and we’re just living in it

Def cooks with only an apron on and everyone except his s/o avoids looking at that

Minghao

Cool as a cucumber because I like to believe Hao’s into kinkier things and stuff so sex is really something he is extremely meticulous about

So it’s hard to like really tease him because he’s almost uppity about it

He’s actually really flustered on the inside because you know after that haze of lust passes it can be a bit embarrassing

But unlike the others, he’s good at masking his emotions that’s why he’s good at the kinky stuff he does ayo

Also really chill with his s/o as well like they’re just buddies almost but he does tenderly kiss and hug them but it’s kind of ironic because he acts as if he didn’t have them tied up and begging for him or like erotic oils dripping down their thighs – you get the message

I think it’s because he’s really thorough in his after care so day-to-day dynamics are very much laid back because too much intensity is not good

Lowkey there’s that one time Seungkwan was scarred for life when he casually said he liked the scent of whatever candle his friend was burning and then choked when Hao pulled out a dick-shaped candle like I can’t even lmfao

Seungkwan

Poor bby flustered as hell

Prolly ushers his s/o out the door and tries to escape back to his room

More than likely does a whole bunch of breathing exercises before getting ready to face the members

But they’re kinda soft on him like only Soonyoung might poke some fun but he knows it’s a touchy topic so he usually lets it go because there are much better things to make fun of boo for

But that’s kinda worse

Because mingyu is just like straightforward – how was the sex last night bestie? and Seungkwan chokes on his corn flakes and then everyone’s panicking until Cheol remembers the Heimlich maneuver exists

It’s worse when his s/o does stay for brekky because it’s just. Silence. And he’s making that cute face when he’s about to burst into tears or laughter esp when gyu serves his s/o a nice, big breakfast sausage

It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, he’s just a shy guy and it’s super endearing for all involved

Vernon

He’s just some chill guy okay

Has his earbuds in – can’t hear the haters

No one really knows if he’s listening to anything – maybe it’s audio porn from last night? Who knows?

Vernon? Vernon? Oh god he can’t hear me, he got his headphones on

Anyways yeah I feel like he’s just really easygoing about everything like it’s a “you” problem if you’re gonna make a comment pls seek free sex therapy with mingyu

He’s just really thankful to be in a happy and healthy relationship with great sex like what more can this guy ask for

A cat maybe

Luckily his s/o has like five cats so he’s usually over there instead it’s pretty rare to have sex in the dorms because you can’t leave the cats by themselves over night!

He’s not a heathen obviously

Only in bed though heh

But hey – cats don’t care how loud you’re being and they also don’t make fun of you (verbally bc they’re eyeing you judgmentally) but yeah long live s/o with their own place

Also likes to have sex with a thot playlist blaring so it all works out

Chan

Mr Loser ™

Oh god they’re gonna make so much fun of him no matter how many times he’s had sex

Of course the first time, they’re making him a crummy “congrats on the sex” cake because they’re insufferable

It’s why he rarely does it in the beginning lbr

But you know, once he starts bulking up and feeling himself he’s kind of insufferable too

Because he likes to act like he’s hot stuff

Walks around the dorm w/ his s/o in the morning flexing his arms and shit for no reason????

Like it makes his s/o giggle and sparkly-eye him but the members just groan in cringe

Sometimes he gets mad because they’re all like “pls let us know if you can’t handle him” and one time he mistook gyu flirting with his s/o and was like I’ll fight you and seriously gyu was just vibing and offering some kinky sex suggestions lmfao

[suekuna]

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 (𝐆𝐈𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 — 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈, 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈, 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎, 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈, & 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

𝐂𝐖 — 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 (𝐡𝐞𝐡)

+ 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈 +

"i'm— i was— you're hot." 😀😀 congrats you just broke yuuji. i think this kid is pretty oblivious sometimes so he wouldn't even think to knock on your door. but when yuuji accidentally walks in on you, his brain has left the chat. “um,, can you get out?!" "AH YES RIGHT SURE OKAY." yuuji rushes out of the room but bumps into the doorway on accident 😭 the poor boy face palms because he just violated the privacy of his crush and just called them hot. all in those 10 seconds. 'what the fuck yuuji. closed door? knock dumbass.' then, the image of your semi-nude frame pops up in his head. 'no no no.' yuuji bangs his head on the doorframe but it doesn't stop his face from heating up. "i'm already gonna open the door relax." yuuji quickly removes his head from the doorframe. "sorry for not knocking." "yeah make sure to do that next time pls." you slightly smile at him so things don't get more awkward. things calm down but sukuna is pissed off. ‘you better delete it from your brain before nighttime brat.’ mans just wants some rest but unfortunately for him, it kept playing in yuuji's mind and kept both of them awake 💀

+ 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 +

"sumimasen." 🗿🗿 in the most calm way ever and respectfully walks out without looking at you. as soon as he's on the other side of the door, he clutches his chest. his heart is pounding hard. "tch, dammit y/n! don't you think you should lock the door?!" you hear megumi yelling from outside the room. "my guy, i thought it was normal to knock before going in someone's room?!" the dark-haired boy grits his teeth. you got a point there lol. btw he's not actually mad. he's just flustered and doesn't know how to act. megumi can barely keep up the cool guy act in front of you, the person he likes. this just made things worse 🙃 megumi even avoids eye contact with you for the next few days. even by hearing your name reminds him of what happened and has him hiding his blush in the collar of his jacket. eventually, megumi misses you and bites the bullet. "hey, y/n. um...sorry about...the other day." he still feels slightly embarrassed and looks away to the side with a slight tint of pink on his cheeks. megumi feels vulnerable but he’ll do anything to make you feel comfortable around each other again ❤️

+ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 +

"niceeee." 😎 gojo is someone you shouldn't want walking in on you changing unless you're into that 👀 but since you're reading this, i'm assuming you are 😟 i can only see him being entertained and flirting with you lmao. gojo would be so nonchalant and blunt about it that it would seem like he’s not attracted to you in any way whatsoever. "hey y/n you know that dvd—" and there appears the legend himself while you are half-naked. "oh? oh 😏" gojo is smirking as he has no shame to look you over. "wha—" "if you were that into me y/n, you could've asked me out for coffee first." you glare at him and tell him to get tf out. "hmm okay, you're beautiful btw." gojo says as he walks out of your room leaving you flustered. it makes you question if he did it on purpose. but i trust gojo would never disrespect you like that; he’s quite the opposite of what you think. the man has a smile on his face outside of the room. ‘interesting’ it's weird, your body isn't what's ingrained in his mind. don't get me wrong he finds you extremely attractive, but it's the cute blush on your face he remembers most. and he wants to see you do that because of him, again.

+ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 +

"..." oh he's out that mf. nanami is probably the most mature and respectful of all of these guys. i feel like nanami would walk out the second he sees you. being the gentleman i think he is, he would guard the area you’re changing in to make sure no one accidentally walks in on you a second time lol. nanami’s so quiet about it that you feel the weird need to apologize. “s-sorry, nanami. i should have been more careful.” the blonde haired man chuckles. “are you apologizing?” you laugh with him and say “yeah, i guess so.” nanami crosses his arms and leans on the door. “it was my fault. it’s true that you should learn how to lock a door…” he teases. “i wouldn’t want anyone else to see you like that.” oh ? your heart skips a beat. nanami gets flustered after realizing what he just said. “i mean uh if it was someone else instead of me, who knows how they would act.” luckily you can’t see him on the other side of the door as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. “oh yeah i get it haha.” your smile fades and so does his. you both wish that statement meant what it sounded like. both of your hearts are yearning for each other. you just don’t know it 😢

+ 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 +

"calm down damn." *unamused in ancient japanese* sukuna is 1,000 years old; he's been around the block 💀 you and yuuji have been best friends since you were in diapers. changing in front of each other just became normal and efficient when you had no other option. unfortunately, this time sukuna switches with yuuji. you don’t even notice until you hear “oi, nice view.” 🥵 bestie i’m screaming for you. you cover yourself up and slowing turn to look at what was supposed to be yuuji. yup there are the markings and the hair. “wtf is wrong with you?! turn around!!” sukuna sighs and turns around. “it’s not like i haven’t seen the human body before.” “just shut up pls…thank you.” sukuna rolls his eyes and looks around the room.‘switch me back, asshole.’ yuuji is sounding frustrated but the main reason sukuna switched with him was because he wanted your attention to himself. yet he fucked it up rn by doing it at the wrong time. the curse has no idea how to interact with someone he has feelings for. his brows furrow and he switches back with yuuji. sukuna pouts as he sits on his throne. maybe next time 😔

a/n - reblogs are loved + appreciated here :,) i’m still new to writing for jjk so, feel free to let me know your thoughts 💞

[kithtaehyung]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMLqcL4Lp/ i’m imaging 3tan OC (obviously after the hook up but before they did it again) trying to find an outfit for a date and trying to model for her friend who’s sitting in the kitchen and in comes 3tan Yoongi and the brother being all like “why are you sitting alone” and while she explains the situation OC comes in looking all 🥵 and Yoongi is standing there all 👀🧍🏻😳

Oh my god…

title: you’re going out in that? series: three tangerines  timeline: between fireworks and house party rating: pg word count: 512

-

-

All you have left are the finishing touches, slipping on some bracelets and eyeing your appearance in your mirror.

Good. Fine.

It’s just a simple night out with friends, and you don’t feel like doing much else other than drinking and dancing. 

Well. Technically you also have a date tonight but... you don’t feel too in the mood for that, either. Which is why you only opted for a more casual fit instead of the elaborate getup your friend is currently showing off to the kitchen counters.

You know she’s going to yell at you, but the two of you are already late enough so you may be able to walk out the door without too much trouble.

A loud “hurry up!” echoes throughout the house before you shout a reply back, and you gather the rest of your things before clacking out of your room.

But you get two steps in before realizing, “Ah, fuck. Wallet.”

Scurrying back through your doorway, your rapid search drowns out the sound of the front door opening and some conversation happening.

So when you rush into the kitchen a few seconds later, you damn near trip over your shoes.

Because three pairs of eyes lock onto you then: your brother’s, your friend’s, and another belonging to someone you didn’t prepare to speak to for weeks.

Fuck, Yoongi looks just as good as when you saw him that day. How the hell are you supposed to stay composed when all you can think about is hi—

But you can’t get too many thoughts out before your friend does exactly what you assumed she would, completely ignoring the two men in the room.

“You’re going out in that?”

“I mean…” Looking down—slightly, a little, minutely embarrassed—you question, “Why not?”

The look you get in return is full of annoyance. “That’s so boring! You look like you’re going to the store, not a club.”

“So?”

“I can’t be seen with you.”

Your brother cuts in before you can retort. “Where y’all going?”

“Club hopping,” you reply before looking back at your friend, “And hello, you’ll just look hotter next to me. So no complaining.”

A sigh precedes her answer. “Fine. And I’m mostly kidding. Can’t say what your dat—”

“And we are leaving!” you interject, turning away and not wanting to see either of the guys’ reactions. Neither of them need to know about your so-called last second pity date tonight. “Calling a ride now.”

“Coming!” Your friend’s heels make contact with tile before you hear a lighthearted, “Bye, boys.”

You don’t hear Yoongi, but your brother is quick with the telltale, “She gets back in one piece, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah! You know me.”

“Good.”

And you think you get out of the situation unfazed, still keeping your secret with Yoongi well under wraps.

Until you’re in the car with your distracted friend, getting text messages that have your body lighting up like wildfire.

Yoongi [10:02pm]: Dw about your date

Yoongi [10:03pm]: If it were up to me, I’d be doing anything to get you alone.

-

-

a/n: DIDNT EXPECT THIS TO BE MY REPLY, DID YOU?? LOL but i watched the original tiktok and wanted to offer my own scenario :D so have some silent but also very, very loud 3tan!yoongi sdfkljdslfkj 

[thinger-strang]

Ooooo how about “You know I don't believe you when you say you don't need me” with Steve and Billy??? 👀🙏🐓🐓🐓

This is way longer than I intended lol but here ya go! also hi hi hi, i feel like i havent heard from you in forever hi!!!

a little background context; steve and billy live together in a little house and are together and this can be interpreted to fit pretty much any storyline i think

Steve finds Billy sitting on the roof, knees tucked up to his chest, staring out at the fast-setting sun.

He tries to make noise while making his way towards Billy so he doesn't scare him when he sits down. Billy still jumps a little when Steve plops down.

"You okay?" Steve bumps his shoulder into Billy's.

"Fine."

"Hmm I'm convinced. Totally convinced even though you're sitting out here in jeans and a cut off despite the freezing temperatures and I know you haven't eaten all day. Totally convinced, you got me."

".... How'd you know I didn't eat?" Billy furrows his brow at the horizon.

"My breakfast dishes are still in the sink. You do the dishes immediately after eating. What's wrong." Steve bumps Billy's shoulder again, a little harder this time.

Billy shakes his head and rests his chin on his knees.

Steve can see the sparkle of tears welling up in Billy's eyes.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to but we should go inside at least. You know your lungs are going to be mad at you if you stay out in the cold for too long."

Billy nods silently and Steve gets them both inside, making sure Billy's got even footing on the slanted roof.

Steve's latching the window and almost misses Billy's whisper.

"I'm scared that you're going to get tired of all this and leave."

Steve turns and finds Billy hugging himself and biting his lip, like he hadn't meant for that thought to escape.

"Why would I leave?"

"Because I've been doing better and I can walk without you needing to catch me and I can make my own food without dropping anything and I can get myself out of bed. But it's still a lot, the nightmares and the days of no talking. You wouldn't feel guilty if you left me now that I don't need you."

"Hey I'm not, I'm not going to leave you. I wouldn't leave you high and dry like that. If, and that's a big 'if', massive 'if', I were to ever leave you, we'd talk about it. We'd talk about why and talk about fixing it. But I don't plan on leaving any time soon. I kinda like this little corner we've carved out for us. I like taking care of you. Cm'ere." Steve opens up his arms and lets Billy fall into them.

By definition of a hug, it's a bad hug. Billy's still curled up in on himself and Steve's carefully avoiding pressing on the tender spots on Billy's ribs. But Billy's resting his head on Steve's shoulder and Steve's rocking them and tracing patterns onto Billy's skin. So it's exactly what they both need.

"You know I don't believe you when you say you don't need me, right?" Steve smiles into Billy's hair.

He feels Billy huff out a laugh.

"Like yeah you are getting better, you're doing so damn well, but those circus people don't practice without a net, right? The ones that swing on the ropes? They use a net like all the time, except maybe when they're performing. And you don't, you're not performing for anyone so let me be your net?"

Steve winces at his analogy but Billy smiles and tucks his face closer into Steve's neck.

"Yeah you can be my net, pretty boy."

"Alright, I'll be your net," Steve says softly, still swaying them back and forth. "Okay, let's go downstairs, I'll make you some food and I'll even do the dishes if you wanna pick out a movie. It can even be one of your gorey gross horror movies."

"Okay," Billy mumbles into Steve's neck.

Neither of them make a move, other than swaying and breathing. It reminds Steve of watching his grandparents dance in their living room to no music.

"Love you," Billy says as he wiggles his arms out from between them and wraps them around Steve, pulling them as close together as possible.

Steve presses as many kisses as he can into Billy's hairline and squeezes him as hard as he dares until Billy's laughing and trying to shove Steve off of him.

"C'mon, I'm making you food, what do you want?"

Steve takes Billy's hand and tugs them down the stairs.

[toasterdrake]

NOÉ!!!!!

encanto oc wheheosie

Noé; meaning rest

Arias; meaning farmer

main personality trait: always sleepy

he/they, 18 years old

baby of the family, it's debatable if i'll ever draw his older sister miel but she exists

love interest of luisa. the third drawing depicts the first time he met her

he'd fallen asleep and fallen in a ditch, luisa noticed and pulled them out of it, noé looked up and saw big buff woman and said 😳 (same king)

literally ALWAYS falling asleep

they help luisa to take breaks and find the quickest, lowest-effort shortcuts to finish a chore

she's so smitten with him it's adorable. they like napping in hammocks together

because he falls asleep in weird places (this boi will curl up anywhere) they're pretty much always covered in leaves and sticks and mud

their ruana used to be plain but soon after luisa introduced him to the family, mirabel stole their ruana while he slept and embroidered the wheat bales onto it. he woke up to the new designs and just accepted it lol

he does worry sometimes that they will ruin the embroidery, but mirabel always promises to fix any tears etc

his parents don't think he's very responsible since he's so laid-back, calling them lazy and always making his older sister miel do most of the chores because they don't trust him to do it to a high enough quality (or at all)

meeting luisa, noé saw how hard she works all the time and felt guilty that he didn't have the same drive, so he starts picking up the slack

his parents approve of luisa for this and think she's really good for him. miel is just grateful (especially now that she has a window into the life of another madrigal 👀💅)

noé often struggles with his words so when someone needs comfort the best he can do is hugs and listening to them rant if they need (they feel they're not doing much but everyone appreciates it. sometimes that's just what you need)

noé is actually a really good cook as long as they're not responsible for timings. his recipes are always bomb though and julieta enjoys making dinner with them if he stays over

he wants to have kids one day but is well aware that he needs to sharpen up before he can be ready

they're a crappy dancer like oml so bad. luisa has tried teaching him but he just does not have rhythm. it took isabela teaching him the exact steps and motions for him to be able to dance one song and that was for luisa's birthday. never make them step onto a dancefloor ever again

alma is unsure of them but knows that his family is essential to the community as farmers so she's pleased enough with luisa's choice. also she thinks they're a sweet boy. he often brings her tea and sits with her on the porch

agustín and julieta adore him, seeing how sweet he is with luisa, as does mirabel. isabela spends the most time with noé outside of luisa (because he's a window into the life of another arias 👀💅)

camilo got really protective of luisa lol, would glare at him all the time and shove between their space ("leave room for Jesus"), but like with mariano he gave in eventually

antonio likes hanging out with them and noé likes petting all the animals - he's very tactile. it's like those 'celebrity interviews but with puppies' videos, he doesn't hear half of what antonio is saying

antonio's nickname for him is 'stickbug'/'insecto palo' and yeah it's pretty accurate

dolores doesn't care about him that much sudjwiebd i'm sorry it's true she's too busy canoodling with mariano

she just sees them as some random village boy. he doesn't have a very interesting life compared to other people (i.e. her other prima and his sister 👀💅)

pepa and félix think noé is a little twink fjskjdjd they find it funny that he's the one luisa picked. i mean luisa. and noé, the insecto palo of the village. dating? hilarious. cute, but hilarious

noé's eye colour is uhhhh *runs away*