#so fucking excited for this adorable insanity

[outofthemouthsof]

[raindropsonwhiskers]

Welp. I guess I have new blorbos now.

[thexcricket]

I suspect that this shot from the trailer is not a flashback, it’s them together either on deaths door or in death.

They are both in their current clothes, Fukuchi in the hunting dogs uniform, Fukuzawa not wearing his scarf. We know that Fukuzawa still wore the scarf at the time of the agency opening party (from Ranpo’s flashback), and we know Fukuchi wouldn’t be wearing the hunting dogs uniform until after the war. The uniform he wore when going to war is a diff color.

Plus, the scene invokes this very light and airy feeling and there are places that look like they’re fading into light (particularly the plant on the left, the leaves on the right of the tree, etc.) My sister pointed out there even seems like there’s a sort of glow around some outlines (particularly the posts) and some shadows are strange and very blue toned (the posts again and the crevices of their clothes).

Basically all of that to say it very much does not feel real. It doesn’t feel like a real memory, and it loses the high saturation shojo style the other flashbacks with them have.

I’m very hesitant to theorize about a character dying because this show never actually kills anyone, but it would be so interesting (and devastating to me) if they killed each other here. I desperately need an end to the excess of fake out deaths, at this point it’s cheap and destroys any real tension, and as much as I hate to say it, narratively, Fukuzawa would be a good choice to actually kill off here.

The classic mentor dies trope exists for a reason, often it is very necessary in order for other characters to move forward and experience development. This is especially true in this context for Ranpo and Kunikida, they would both have so much development from this and it’s AWFUL because they’re also both RIGHT THERE. But this is also true for the entire agency.

Also, something this situation has that is usually not true with the death baits, is that if they do it well, this could be a very good and satisfying conclusion to Fukuzawa’s (and Fukuchi’s) character arc. The idea of their fates being so intertwined that neither of them can triumph over the other, they have to give themselves up as well, is very appealing to me in the context of their relationship. It would be so fitting for them to die together at each others hands.

Another possibility is if that scene is them saying goodbye as only one of the dies, which could also be so interesting.

ANYWAY this is less of a real theory and more just thinking about possibilities. There are also several things that make me think they won’t both die like this: no one ever dies in the main storyline, we still don’t have a confirmation of Fukuchi’s additional objective, Yosano is unaccounted for (she and/or Ranpo could pop up and save the day), and the trailer is indicating to me that Fukuzawa can’t kill Fukuchi.

[offjumpoladulkittiporn]

he - 💚😍🥰

[thethingything]

I keep randomly remembering that the reason our brain is especially fucked and a bunch of our symptoms are worse right now is because of like, an avoidable external thing that's chemically affected our nervous system instead of either our symptoms flaring up on their own or some specific stressful event triggering it, and for some reason that keeps making us feel especially bad about it.

like our mental health being bad because of stressful stuff going on and our mental illnesses randomly flaring up both suck, but I can handle our brain just doing its own thing and/or reacting to what's going on around us.

but something about it being a medication that someone else prescribed that's changed the way our brain functions is significantly more distressing in a way I can't put into words properly. a lot of the symptoms we've got (apathy, brain fog, alexithymia, memory problems, etc) are very typical depression and dissociation symptoms, but they're like a weird version of them that feels very different to how we normally experience them.

the only way I can describe the difference in feeling is that it feels more "artificial" but I can't even really describe what I mean by that. if normal brain fog is looking out the window on a foggy day, this is looking out of a window that's been covered with those frosted vinyl sheets. you can't see shit either way, but the feeling is very different.

I just desperately want it to go away. I'm finding it hard to be enthusiastic about things I'm normally excited about no matter how bad our depression gets, and our usual coping mechanisms for getting our brain to register positive things aren't really working because it's not the same underlying mechanism.

it feels like any control I did have over our symptoms and anything I could do to help with them has been stripped away and all I can do is wait it out and hope it fixes itself, and the whole "being given a drug that changes how your brain functions and takes away your control over what your brain is doing" is pretty much the exact phobia I was trying to learn to figure out how to deal with before we get dental work done, and for the dental work it'd be like... idk probably an hour at most, whereas now I'm just stuck dealing with experiencing it 24/7 for an undetermined amount of time

[astrxealis]

gn i'll wake up more normal maybe even if later today is also not a normal day (/pos) ^_^ <3 !! wishing u all well hehe

[prlssprfctn]

AU, where Bruce accidentally gets de-aged (physically and mentally), and the first person he bumps in is... Red Hood.

To Jason's defence, he didn't connect the dots at first. He was just patrolling around his usual turf, thinking of nothing in particular, when he saw a small child in a ridiculously serious suit, sulking around Crime Alley. He looks distraught, and considering that he looks rich, it is no surprise - that is not a place for him. So, he is either lost or something happened, right?

He takes the helmet off, as he usually does when he is dealing with kids (they got scared easily) and carefully approaches a brooding baby.

'Hey, shrimp. Where are your parents at?'

That said shrimp turns around, his big blue eyes looking confused and lost, and Jason thinks he looks awfully familiar.

'I am not shrimp,' he protests instantly, pouting at him. 'And they are somewhere... here. We just left the movie theatre together!'

Jason glances at the abandoned movie theatre, back at the little rich boy with a familiar frown, and it clicks. This is his fucking dad. Suddenly, a kid - but it is fucking Bruce Wayne, for sure.

'Was watching Zorro by any chance?' Jason still asks, just to be sure that he is not going insane.

Bruce - and it must be him - beams at him.

'Yes! This is a great movie, by the way.'

Oh, hell. At least, he didn't witness his parents' death just yet. Jason wasn't sure he would be able to deal with his father being so small, and mourning his mom and dad. He would probably cry himself at some point.

'Hey,' Jason calls out for him slowly, squatting down; God, who would've thought that this little shrimp would become so tall and big in the future. 'Aren't you... You must be Thomas's kid, right?'

Okay, yeah, Jason is going to lie to this kid. Because there is no way he manages just to steal Bruce as a stranger to bring him back home; it is still a kid, even if it is his father. Right?

'You know my dad?' Bruce tilts his head, little fingers tugging on the hem of his jacket; suspicious.

'You could say that,' Jason nods. 'Alfie... I mean, Alfred called me. Asked me to pick up a kid, since Thomas and Martha got an urgent call.'

Fuck his life and stupid life choices. What the hell he was even doing? He looked like a mugger; or like a psycho. But Alfred was his best bet - he could call him, after all; ask, well, support his idiotic made-up story.

'No one calls Alfred Alfie but my dad,' Bruce pouts in a very, very spoiled manner.

'Well... I do. We served together in the army,' he blurts out.

His armour, apparently, is enough a proof for the kid to nod slowly.

'Okay. But you gotta take off your strange mask first,' Bruce folds arms on his chest.

...???

Did this kid just agree for an unknown man to take him home? Like this? Who could've thought that this pouty child would become the most paranoid man alive in the future?

'Uh, why?'

'So I can remember your face and do an identikit, if you turn out to be a bad guy,' Bruce smirks stupidly. 'Duh.'

Jason is going to cry. This kid is so cute.

'Yeah, duh,' Jason huffs, but despite his better judgment takes the domino mask off as well. 'Go on, take your time. My identikit should be the prettiest, shrimp.'

Bruce... gawks at him. His eyes are comically wide now, mouth open, and then, he jumps a little closer to him - oh, God, he is jumping when excited? - putting his hellishly cold hands on Jason's cheeks.

'Woah. You look like dad.'

'Uh,' Jason nods awkwardly, and because he is an idiot, adds a joke: 'We are brothers, actually. Just don't talk much.'

...Apparently, little Bruce can't take jokes. Because he lets out an adorable gasp, and throws himself on Jason as if they knew each other for ages now.

'Uncle? That's so cool. You look like Zorro!'

Damn this little kid, and this stupid family. Damn Joe Chill and the night he killed this kid's parents. Damn it all. Bruce might be an asshole sometimes, but he was so... cute and innocent.

'Thanks, shrimp,' Jason slides a domino mask back on, picks up little Bruce with one arm, and grips a helmet with another. 'Come on, let's go home. Alfred will make your favourite tiramisu.'

'You know my favourites?!'

Jason sniffles.

'Yeah. Yeah, I do, kid.'

If he gets so emotional over this kid, he has no idea how worse Dick is going to be once he finds out.

Oh, this is going to be one hell of a night.

[noredemptionhere]

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 ✶⋆.˚ 𝚆𝙸𝙵𝙴!𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙺𝙰 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼!𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

no warnings—just fluff.

𑄝⌇sevika is surprisingly sweet with kids.. calmer, softer, careful. but for some reason, kids never like her. they avoid to be in the same place as her and shrink away the moment she steps near. it makes your piss boil. one time, a particular four-year-old piece of shit had the audacity to burst into tears just because sevika glanced in his direction. without hesitation, you ‘accidentally’ nudged your foot forward, just enough to make him trip over. sevika nearly choked on her own spit trying to hold in her laugh as she watched your proud little smug smile.

𑄝⌇whenever you and sevika go out for dinner or a little get together, you always end up playing a game—cards, never have i ever, uno.. any silly game you two can think of. for some reason, every single time, you two end up getting so excited about it that you attract glances from everyone around. “draw four, pretty girl.” she smirks. “girl—fuck you.”

𑄝⌇sevika has an insane amount of pain tolerance—but she will always have the biggest fear of colds, fevers, or anything that causes headaches in general. you always stay by her side and make her a hot drink. she’s always wrapped in a blanket like a little worm as she watches you make her flavored tea, too.

𑄝⌇sevika loves nose kisses—loves giving them as well as receiving them.

𑄝⌇sevika never feels the need to brag about you in public. she doesn’t need to tell people how perfect, cute, or adorable you are—she already knows. to her, that’s something personal, something just for the two of you.

𑄝⌇sevika has an impeccable sense of fashion, and because of that, you’re always up her ass, whining for her to pick out your outfit from head to toe. “those jeans are ass,” she scrunches her nose in mild disgust. “you’re only saying that because i bought them without asking for your opinion,” you retort, but she glares back at you like you just murdered her parents.

𑄝⌇sevika’s taste in music is insane—she knows all the right tracks, from old-school rock to the newest underground hits. but one day, you played one of your ridiculously loud country songs, and somehow, it got stuck in her head. days later, you caught her humming the tune under her breath as she worked. she froze halfway through, eyes tightening, and muttered bitterly, “i’m so disappointed in myself.”

𑄝⌇sevika genuinely believes she’s terrible at comforting people—always unsure of what to say, what to do. but every time you’re in her arms, soft and trembling with tears, she can’t help but notice how easily you melt into her. the way you relax, your breaths slowing as you burrow closer… it doesn’t exactly convince either of you that she’s bad at it. “breathe for me, sugar. in through that little nose..”

𑄝⌇when she’s bored, sevika will bother you in the most subtle ways—like moving your stuff just slightly to the left so you’ll notice but not enough to be sure if it’s her. she thinks it’s hilarious, and you’re just left wondering if you’ve lost your mind.

𑄝⌇sevika always sleeps on top of you. she’s like a heavy, warm blanket that refuses to be moved. no matter how much space the bed has, she insists on curling up right on top of you, effectively trapping you in a cozy but slightly suffocating cuddle. she’ll nuzzle into your neck, mumble something about needing “closeness,” and fall asleep faster than you can protest. you’ve learned to embrace it, though, because there’s something oddly comforting about having her weight on top of you. the real challenge will always be trying to get up without waking her, because if you try, she’ll groggily mumble “stay,” and drag you right back to bed.

𑄝⌇sevika loves gossiping—will never admit it though.

𑄝⌇she always remembers how you take your tea. even when you change it up, even when you forget yourself—she doesn’t. she hands you a cup before you even ask, grinning when you blink at her like she just read your mind.

𑄝⌇she never sleeps facing the door. she sleeps facing you. always.

𑄝⌇sevika and you share food like it’s a sacred ritual. you both order different dishes, but somehow, every meal ends with your plates being mixed together.. whether you like it or not. she’ll stare at your food like it’s the last meal on earth and then slide a forkful onto her plate without asking. you’ll give her a side eye, but she just shrugs and says, “you never finish it anyway.” It’s become a game, where you try to sneak a bite from her dish, and she’ll respond by swiping something off your plate in return. it’s a silent, competitive love language that only the two of you understand.

[xazse]

I don’t know about the anon but I freaked out when I saw the new fic. It was so good 🤤. I love how you’re giving us so much content nowadays and I’m here for it! Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could figure something out for snow leopard Gojo and cat hybrid reader (him as a cat jest feels right) ? Imagine Satoru having this in mind ever since he saw you, I mean, big cats mate practically for the solo reason of breeding ?and he's no different- having many pups is a necessity to prove you're his and the best way to show how much he adores you! He’d be very protective about you while you’re carrying, never stepping away from your side and he’s become so needy too because you smell so divine with all those hormones to him.

It makes me think back to that kitty tiger fic where he would lick her and I see this as a continuation of short!

Well, not really since I mentioned a leopard but honestly if you did a tiger and really wrote it as a continuation l'd be thrilled. Do you think you’ll write more because I’d love some Satoru tiger/leopard fics. Have a nice day lovely 💕

Notes: SORRY ITS SO SHORT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, I HAD FUN WRITING IT!!

Warnings: Pantysniffing + breeding + hybrids + little hybrids + pregnancy + overprotective!Satoru

Pairings: SnowLeopardSatoru + KittyHybrid!Reader

Oh yes of course SnowLeopard!Satoru was in love the day Suguru brought you home, you smelled of that icky place but eventually when you got comfortable he began cleaning you of that filthy, licking you everywhere to ensure you smelled exactly like him.

After scenting you to smell just like the touching started, it starts small with Satoru laying you in his lap or letting you stroke his hair until it got even more physical he was having you bent over balls deep inside of you, this became a daily occurrence where he’d pump you full load after load.

The leopard loved you so much, of course when you started showing signs of morning sickness he was so damn excited, well when he had said that you gave him the nastiest look ever but he had to phrase it as he was excited for the baby!

The first few months were absolute hell for you, Satoru could not and would not leave you alone, he insisted mining everything and anything with you.

You needed a shower? He’s in there helping you get in places your cute little belly prevents even in public he’s always making sure your near him, he keeps a tight grip on your arm so he doesn’t lose you.

He also keeps close because you smell, so fucking good, it drives him damn insane, he keeps you in his lap for hours just sniffing your neck or even having your legs wrapped around his head so he can smell your cunt.

He loves getting into your dirty laundry and smelling your panties, who cares if you catch him jerking off with it around his fat cock, he’ll look you dead in your face as you slowly close the door to let him have that privacy, he can’t fuck your pussy like he used to anymore so this’ll do.

When the babies come it’s so hectic around the house, you and Satoru are constantly chasing the little ones around, they don’t give either of you a break some days. It’s so cute to see how they look exactly like Satoru in some ways, two of them have his hair and the third one looks exactly like you, a carbon copy is what she is.

Their little ears and tail swish behind them so freaking cute, the amount of photos Satoru has in his phone is astonishing, he also posts them on his instagram always, everytime, Suguru also does his hair share with helping with them when you and Satoru are stressed. He’s like their uncle and it’s so adorable to see them braiding his hair or him reading to them.

When you finally get alone time, Satoru’s fucking you like he wants to put even more babies in you, the way he’s groaning is so damn loud it pairs with the way you sound when both of you meet in the middle, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t fucking back on him just as hard, it’s already been multiple orgasms and you’re both still going at it.

[greengoblinswifey]

Super Eater—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— nicholas loves eating your pussy, anywhere and anytime. based on this request.

warnings— oral(f receiving), overstimulation, praise kink, pussy worshiping.

a/n—the title is actually sending me LMFAOAOA. working on the requests slowly but surely <3

Nicholas had a devotion to your pleasure that was almost relentless. Every so often, he’d give you this look—a mix of awe and pure need, and you’d know exactly what he wanted, to eat you out. It didn’t matter where you were; he was completely undeterred by anything. He did not care. All he cared about was his tongue in your pussy.

One night, the two of you were driving back from a date, winding down a quiet road surrounded by trees. Without warning, Nicholas pulled over, his face determined and eyes gleaming. “Nick, what are you doing?” you asked, your laughter mingling with excitement.

He gave a sheepish grin before his voice dropped to a murmur, filled with that familiar intensity. “You know I can’t wait, I need to taste you now.” The night proceeded with your legs in the air in the backseat of his car, and him not caring about the slight uncomfortable position he was in as his tongue sucked on your clit.

Then there was that afternoon while out shopping. The two of you had barely stepped into a dressing room when Nicholas gave you a look that you recognized all too well. “We’re in public,” you whispered, but he only shook his head with a playful smile.

“No one will hear,” he reassured, already leaning in. “I just need to show you how much I love eating your pussy.”

At a family gathering, Nicholas found a chance to slip away with you upstairs, where he gently pulled you into an empty bathroom. You let out an incredulous laugh, whispering, “This is not the place.” But he just gazed at you, completely unbothered, his cheeks flushed with his usual sweetness yet edged with that fierce determination.

“I don’t care,” he murmured, his voice reverent. “I need to feel you cum on my tongue.”

As usual, you gave in to his need and ended up with your own panties in your mouth as Nicholas lapped at your juices. Your taste was better than anything his family had cooked that evening.

Another time, the two of you were at Cooper Koch’s rooftop party. The music thumped in the background, people mingling just outside the stairwell where you both slipped away. He had that look again, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled you close. “Here? Seriously?”

With a soft, unbothered grin, he whispered, “I just need a few minutes to eat you out baby, you drive me insane.”

After each of these spontaneous moments, you couldn’t help but ask him. “Nick, I don’t get it. You love doing this more than anything. Why?”

He chuckled, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks, before looking at you with complete sincerity. “I don’t know if I can put it all into words. It’s fucking everything about you,” he said, voice reverent, “the way you smell, the way you taste, I love watching you lose yourself, how you get all squirmish.” His voice softened even more, gaze affectionate yet intense. “I just want to make love to you like this. Make love to your pussy, show you how much I fucking love it. It’s about you and making you feel good, that’s all I fucking need.

His words though so dirty, left you feeling adored, with no doubt of just how deeply he cared about your pleasure. He absolutely worshiped you, especially your pussy. He always believed women when they would talk about the power of the pussy due to how much power yours had over him. It was like it was tethered to him, like it called out to him. Like it craved his skillful tongue the way he craved to taste and savor it too.

One night, a particular premiere you attended was packed, the energy high, and the atmosphere electric. You and Nicholas had just snuck into the bathroom for a quick breather when he turned to you, eyes filled with a familiar look of lust.

“Nicholas, no,” you whispered, laughing softly as he stepped closer, his hands wrapping around your waist. “We can’t, not here.”

“I need to,” he murmured, almost pleading, voice husky and low as he licked his lips. “Please, I can’t wait. I know you’re aching to have my mouth on that clit.” His lips ghosted along your jaw, and before you could say no again, you felt yourself giving in.

The way he touched you was always more than gentle—it was worshipful, his mouth leaving you breathless and gripping onto him for support as he’d make you feel like you were the only person in the world. His skillful movements had a way of knowing exactly what you needed, drawing out every little sound until you couldn’t think straight.

When you finally left the bathroom, both of you were trying not to laugh, cheeks flushed and pulses racing. You caught a knowing smile from Cooper waiting outside who must have heard, and Nicholas just pulled you close, grinning as you both walked away, hands intertwined.

“That was risky,” you said, breathless and still tingling.

He just smiled, leaning close to whisper, “Worth it. That pretty fucking pussy is worth every second of it.”

He loved when you were in the comfort of your own home, how he could bend you over anywhere, and anytime—not that he couldn’t and didn’t do the same thing when you were out. It’s just that being at home made him able to savor you even more. There was no one to interrupt, no reason to look over his shoulder, no reason to make it quick.

If you were in the kitchen making something in those tiny little booty shorts, your coils free and just one of his t shirts draped over you, he’d hike it up, pulling down your little shorts and burying his face in your plump ass, his tongue darting to lick your pussy from the back. You’d be standing up convulsing, your hand gripping the counter as he knelt down behind you, absolutely ravishing you like a man possessed.

He would not stop until your legs turned to jelly and you’d fall to your knees, but he was relentless.

On this particular night, something feral awakened inside him. He was always feral but there was something different. Maybe it had to do with you being out of the country with your girls for the week and not having any physical contact. Whatever it was, it had Nicholas worked up the moment you left and the moment you called him to pick you up from the airport.

He hugged you tightly, placing your bags in the trunk and you immediately noticed that familiar glint in his eye. You sighed internally, knowing this would probably lead to a session on the side of the road but you were shocked when he just drove straight home. Though, his hand remained on your thigh the entire drive, moving to your clothed pussy and rubbing periodically.

“Fucking hell you tortured me,” he began, “one whole fucking week without your pussy in my mouth.”

You rolled your eyes, staring out the window as you pulled into the driveway, not knowing just how serious and feral he was.

You barely finished your long, relaxing bath when Nicholas appeared, sweeping you into his arms before you could even catch your breath. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and needy, his hands trailing over your still damp skin as he pulled you close.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. “I missed your taste, your scent, the way you’d writhe under my touch, scream my name, fucking everything. I need that pussy, now.”

His intensity left you breathless, and before you knew it, he was leading you toward the bed. “Sit on face,”he whispered, eyes dark with anticipation. “Let me show you just how much I worship this pussy.”

You felt a shiver run through you as you settled above him, and he looked up at you with a grin, his hands holding you close as he murmured, “Perfect.” His movements were filled with a fierce, passionate need, each touch and kiss a reminder of how much he’d missed you, his hands steadying you while he worshiped every inch.

The feeling was like ecstasy, you were high in the clouds from the way he lapped at your juices, his tongue flat against your pussy then curling and flicking exactly where you needed it.

His little moans of content had you shivering and holding on to the bed frame for support.

You gasped, overwhelmed by his intensity, and he looked up, grinning as he said, “Don’t hold back, I want it all.”

You couldn’t hold back if you wanted to, his tongue was practically penetrating your hole as he shoved it inside, sucking and licking everything that came out of you.

“I love this pussy, you’re amazing, everything about you,” he groaned.

Your cries grew louder and more desperate, each time you felt like you were on the edge, he’d slow down his movements.

“This pussy is heaven, I’d die if I couldn’t have my mouth on it.”

“God, mm- this fucking pussy has me in a chokehold.”

“So tight, you’re just clenching around my tongue.”

“You’re so perfect, this pussy is perfect in every single way.”

“I could have you on top of me for the rest of eternity.”

“Grind on my face, rub your pussy all over my face, give it to me baby.”

His words had you sobbing in pleasure, and he kept you on edge so you could get even more sloppy and needy for him. Your pussy practically soaked his mouth and was dripping down his chin.

“Please Nick, I really need to cum,” you pleaded.

“Just a bit more baby, I need to have you soak me a little bit more.”

Nicholas had you on the edge for what felt like forever, teasing and taking his time, his mouth moving over your pussy with a focus that made every nerve in your body come alive. He looked up at you now and then, that glint in his eye as he paused just when you were about to fall over the edge, whispering praises and reassurances.

“Fuck, I’d do anything for you, you have me under your spell,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, sending another shiver through you. “So perfect for me, every single part of you.”

Every time you felt yourself getting closer, his pace would change, drawing you back just enough to keep you in a state of dizzy anticipation. The way he looked at you, like you were all he ever wanted, made you melt as he made love to your pussy and worshiped you.

Finally, when he decided you’d had enough, he held you steady and whispered, “Let go for me baby, I want you to squirt all over my face, I’ve got you.”

At his words, the dam inside you finally broke, and the release was overwhelming. You trembled beneath his touch, feeling completely lost in the intensity of it as he held you, anchoring you through every moment. You soaked him, your orgasm spraying from you as his face and chest was drenched in your juices. His grin, proud and gentle, was the last thing you saw as he lifted you from on top of him lay you down and kissed you softly, murmuring, “Perfect. My perfect girl.”

[haeyos]

can you write about jake Pwease

hai i want his babies so heh.. breeding w jakey [excited] not my finest work but im sleepy 😞

ft. established relationship breeding kink unprotected sex ( 18+ MINORS DNI )

you're spread out under him, clit swollen from being abused for a greater parter of the night. his chest heaves with every breath, his hair sticking to his sweaty face. your voice is hoarse, broken when you whine something that he doesn't quite catch, your hips twitching against his already hardening cock. to be completely honest, he's too fucked out to focus on anything other than the fact that he just came inside of you.

JAKE silently watches as his cum spills out of you, eyes glazed over. he doesn't even realize it when you flinch, attempting to move away from him when he scoops up his release and pushes it back inside of you. all your boyfriend is focused on is the fact that he wants to see you carrying his—your—baby.

the fact that he'd be able to have it known to everyone that you're his completely for those nine months makes him feel insane. all he wants to do is keep pumping his seed into you, hearing you beg for him to keep abusing the spot that makes you weak.

jake shifts, lining his cock up with your entrance again, pushing into you slowly. you cry from the overstimulation and he smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"baby, hey," he caresses your cheek, voice full of pure adoration, "just give me one more, yeah?"

you both know that he's lying—he's going to keep going until you both pass out. until he's positive that you're marked as his.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Finds Everything Cute

Marvel finds literally every creature cute and it’s either extremely disturbing or strange to the rest of the league.

Marvel, Aquaman, and Wondy: *in Tartarus*

Aquaman: “Is that Cerberus??”

Wondy: “Yes, yes, it is.”

Random Demon: *flailing around in one of its mouths*

Marvel: “Cerby!”

Cerberus: *all three heads perk up*

Marvel: “Drop.” *points down*

Cerberus: *spits him out*

Marvel: “Good boy!” *flies over to scratch under one of it’s heads*

Aquaman: *watching as Marvel coos over the dog*

Wondy: *kills the demon*

They all got to ride the Cerberus after that. Aquaman was on the left most head, Marvel was on the middle, and Diana was on the right. Hades was extremely confused when he saw this because he never thought Cerberus would act like this around mortals??

or

JL: *all wearing blindfolds besides Marvel because they don’t wanna go insane*

Marvel: *waves* “Hi Cthulhu!”

Cthulhu: *tentacle noise that’s the equivalent of “Hello, Champion*

Batman: “Mighty Cthulhu, we have come here today-”

Marvel: “You’re just as cute as I remember!” *disappears past the tentacles and is probably scratching his chin or something*

*silence*

Batman: “Captain, please step away from the primordial entity that can drive people insane with just one look.”

Marvel: *poked his head out of the tentacles, not that they can see* “But he’s adorable!”

Everyone on the JL was a little confused as to how Marvel was able to call the Lovecraftian entity cute but whatever.

or

Wondy and Marvel: *on a ship, watching a single harpy sing*

Marvel: *isn’t affected*

Wondy: *is a little affected but covering her ears makes it more less affective*

Marvel: “Look Diana! A Harpy!” *picks it up*

Harpy: *between singing and screeching at being picked up*

Wondy: “Brother, we cannot take it back to the Watchtower.”

Marvel: “But why?”

Wondy: “It will bewitch all the heroes with it’s song.”

Marvel: “Oh yeah…” *gloomily puts it back down and it runs off*

Marvel was like super depressed, but Diana just got him a chicken and that instantly made him happy again.

or

Constantine and Marvel: *both in Hell and walking down a path*

Hellhound: *pops in out of nowhere and starts barking*

Constantine: *gets jumpscared* “SHIT!”

Marvel: *sounds so excited* “A hellhound!” *bends down to pet it a bunch* “Who’s a good boy?”

Hellhound: *loving the attention*

Constantine: *watching this and judgmentally lights up a cigarette* “How do you do that, mate?”

Marvel: “Huh?”

Constantine: “I’ve heard from others that you’re like a fucking Disney princess when it comes to monsters for some reason. How do you do that? Is that something you get from being the champion?”

Marvel: “I don’t know actually!”

He actually doesn’t know, because Solomon told him that none of the Champions besides a couple were like this and it was just because they were good with animals and stuff. In other words, he and a couple others were like Disney princesses because they love animals, regardless of the fact that they’re alien or monsters or not.

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE hand placement (hard ver.) ༉‧₊˚.

pairing bf!riize x reader — masterlist

warnings: suggestive content, MDNI!

⭑.ᐟ shotaro 𖹭 hair

Shotaro is obsessed with your hair, in a way that feels anything but normal now. It’s not just that he grips your hair tightly when he’s fucking your face, but it’s gotten to the point where, without realizing it, he tugs on it slightly while stroking it in public.

"Sorry, force of habit."

⭑.ᐟ eunseok 𖹭 neck

He’s obsessed (and so are you) with seeing his hand on your neck. It fits so perfectly, and to his eyes, you look adorable with his hand squeezing your neck just enough to drive you insane. It’s also common for him to drape his arm over your shoulders and gently stroke your neck in public, something that feels perfectly normal to both of you.

⭑.ᐟ sungchan 𖹭 breasts

Sungchan is definitely a tits lover (especially when it comes to yours). The way he always manages to have one or both of his hands on them whenever he gets the chance is wild. Whether he’s gently stroking or giving them soft squeezes, he can’t help himself.

"It’s not my fault, they’re really soft..."

⭑.ᐟ wonbin 𖹭 mouth

The first time Wonbin saw you sucking on his fingers, he couldn’t help but think it was the hottest thing ever. Since then, whenever you’re alone (or sometimes just because he feels like it), he’ll casually ask you to open your mouth for him.

⭑.ᐟ seunghan 𖹭 inner thighs

Who could blame him? It feels so warm to have his hands there. Whenever he’s sitting next to you, his hand always starts on your thigh but inevitably makes its way to your inner thighs, softly stroking the area with his thumb and giving little squeezes here and there. Bonus! It’s also his favorite spot because it’s where his hands naturally go when he’s eating you out, something he absolutely loves.

⭑.ᐟ sohee 𖹭 ass

All the time. If you’re walking together, it’s not unusual for Sohee’s hands to start on your back but end up on your ass. He loves having his hands there, slipping them into the back pockets of your jeans and just leaving them there for a while. Of course, he doesn’t forget to give it gentle squeezes, and when he gets excited, he’s been known to deliver the occasional playful smack.

⭑.ᐟ anton 𖹭 wrists

Well... it’s not just something Anton loves—it drives you absolutely wild. The way one of his hands can completely wrap around both your wrists and pin you anywhere, whether it’s on the bed or against the wall, wow... Even if it doesn’t always show, Anton loves the feeling of having control over you, and grabbing your wrists is one of his favorite things because it makes him feel exactly that.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies

[7ndipity]

Just found your blog and LOVE your bts headcanons so much… after having watched Are You Sure?!, I need all your NSFW headcanons for OT7 as your boyfriend… please please please 🔥

Random NSFW Headcanons

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: Random spicy headcanons about the members

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected sex(don’t do this), breeding kinks, mentions of edging, oral(m. & f. receiving), bondage, sensory deprivation, dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, voyeurism, idk there’s a bunch of stuff lol

A/N: You want my hcs? I’ll give ‘em, hehehe😈 Hope you like them!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin:

Okay, I’m gonna make some of y’all real happy by saying, although I still think he’s mostly switch/sub leaning, he does have a dom streak in him. Like as much as he loves letting you lead him like a puppy on a leash(sometimes literally), nothing quite gets him off the same as taking control and pounding into you until you’re his empty headed baby, only able to whimper is his name.

He’s also a big fan of sensory deprivation, both giving and receiving. Blindfolds, handcuffs, etc. He loves the heightened sensitivity that they create, turning even the lightest touches insanely intense.

Has a major thing for cumming in you that it’s bordering on a breeding kink. Like tell him that you want him to cum in you, and he’ll propose on the spot💍

Yoongi:

He’s definitely into bondage and shibari(he’s been tied up/handcuffed wayy too many times in music videos to not be, lol) tho it would take a bit of coaxing to get him to admit it. There’s just something about trying out different knots and restraint styles, both on him and you, that intrigues and excites him.

Lowkey into angry sex, but not when he’s angry with you. It’s more those days when he comes home frustrated from the studio and he just wants to scream, so he makes it his mission to make you scream instead, hehe.

Has recorded himself getting off for you and thought about sneaking it into the background sounds of one of his Agust D tracks(might have actually done it, but he won’t admit it bc he’s a menace and likes to fuck with your head, so you’re just sat listening to every little detail on his demos, lol)

Hobi:

This boy is a certifiable freak, you cannot convince me otherwise. Like except for a relatively small list of hard no’s, he’s open to playing around and testing out pretty much any sort of kink/scenario that you might be interested in.

Lowkey very into the idea of watching you fuck one of his friends rapline whats up?, guiding them on just how to touch you, watching the way your face scrunches up in pleasure, just to turn around and fuck you into oblivion afterwards.

Man adores having his head between your thighs and actively begs you to ride his face. And don’t even think of arguing that you’re too heavy or whatever, bc he’ll spend the next hour worshiping your body and showering you with so much praise that you won’t be able to think, let alone remember any of your insecurities🫠

Namjoon:

Although we’ve established he’s definitely more of a daddy dom, he definitely has a weakness for you taking the lead or being on top(“pro rider, hohohoho rider” I had to, I'm sorry). Something about him being under you, watching the way your body moves on top of his, feeling the way you take him so perfectly, just makes his brain go hazy🤤

Idk if he’s fully aware that it’s a kink/thing, but he’s definitely into temperature play. Ice cubes, hot wax, even just blowing cool air over his skin makes him tingly in all the right ways. 

He loves to tease you at the worst moments. Like you could be on phone with a friend or whoever, and he’ll let his hands start to ghost along your arms, down your sides, across your chest, between your thighs… seeing just how long it takes before your voice and focus start to waver, quickly hanging up and giving him your full attention

Jimin:

*cough*ropebunny*cough* Sorry, what?

No but fr, he loves being tied up in different pretty styles of shibari, but he treats it like an art form, with different silk ropes and ribbons. He wants to feel pretty and treasured, caressed with soft voices and sweet words, regardless of if you’re teasing and edging him to tears.

Lowkey into semi-public sex, teasing you at dinner with his friends with his hand creeping along your thigh under the table till you’re squirming and begging him to find an excuse for you both to be excused for a minute. Dude will fully have you shaking and seeing stars and then walk out of the bathroom like nothing happened.

Definitely the biggest fan of aftercare out of all the members, like he treats it as more of a sensual spa night for the two of you; candlelit baths together, gentle massages to work out any tense muscles, cuddling in bed that might turn into cockwarming or a very sleepy round two... 

Taehyung:

Definitely into taking photos of the two of you, both on his phone and on his retro film cameras. Man turned his guest room into his own studio/darkroom and learned how to develop film by himself so that no one else but you would see his artwork.

Loses his goddamn mind every time you go down on him. Like if you ever wanna make his mind go completely blank, all you have to do is let him feel your warm, wet mouth close around his length, and he’s absolute putty in your hands.

Feel like he’s very into lingerie, both for you and himself. He loves feeling like a pretty present for you to open and play with, and vice versa. You literally came home on your birthday to him waiting for you in some pretty little silk number with a bow on his head as your gift.

Jungkook:

Although I’ve said before he’s a dom leaning switch, when he subs, he lets go completely. He loves letting his mind shut off and being at your mercy, letting you take control and turning him into a needy whining mess. 

For the similar reason, he has a major dumbifacation kink, both giving and receiving. He loves the idea of being fucked to the point that your mind goes completely blank and all you can think and focus on is how you make each other feel.

Definitely has a thing for somnophilia, again both giving and receiving. The thought of touching and teasing each other, your bodies reacting purely out of instinct, seeing how long it takes for you to wake up so that you can fuck each other properly, the whole thing makes him crazy. His favorite way to wake up, 5 stars, highly recommend🤭

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

[bamgyw]

˖°𖡼.𖤣𖥧 little red riding hood 𖥧𖤣.𖡼°˖

summary: afab!reader x werewolf!beomgyu just as little red riding hood entered the woods, a wolf met her. little red riding hood did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him. little red riding hood modern [smut] retelling.

warnings: little plot, lot of smut at the end. fingering, biting, sucking, they fuck in the forest? dub-con. definitely not as pretentious and cheaper than six nights.

word count: 6,5k

rey yaps: rey comeback. yay. as you can see, this is not the six night update. i am so very sorry. if you don't like it, i did it on purpose. it's camp. happy halloween. 

once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by everyone who looked at her. whenever the wind whistled she wore a warm, scarlet cloak, so she was always called little red riding hood.

the window’s open just enough for the wind to slip through and moan against the narrow slit. its sighs blend with the creeping chill of autumn nights, making it too easy for her to ignore the other sound—the low, mournful howl of the wolf stalking just beyond the trees. waiting. starving.

but inside—warm, cozy, oblivious—she’s giddy, caught up in the process of getting dolled up. the vanity of the pre-party ritual. halloween night, or the night to honor the ancestors' harvest festival by dressing like an unapologetic slut.

she leans in closer to the mirror, dragging the eyeliner brush across her eyelid. the black ink smudges into a sultry, careless flick.

her reflection stares back—rosy cheeks, fox like eyes, lips twitching into a smirk as she perfects her look. red little riding hood. she’s got that ominous, almost brilliant look of blood on snow; hair like lint, cheeks tinted a synthetic red, lips red like wine.

outside, the darkness gathers thick. that part of town—the forgotten edge where the trees grow too tall, too twisted, their branches clawing at the sky—has a reputation. by day, the leaves rustle with tiny, cheerful birds. but by nightfall the trees bend into shapes that shouldn’t exist, and the black between them isn’t just dark. it’s hungry.

she doesn’t care. not tonight. she’s excited.

she’s got a boyfriend, and she adores him in that hopeless, foolish way. taehyun—so princely, so mature, so different from any other boy she’s ever known. just the thought of him sends a flutter through her stomach.

but her excitement falters, her hand with the eyeliner brush pausing mid-stroke.

for quite some time now, she’s had the gnawing feeling that taehyun doesn’t like her anymore. he's distant. cold. the hunger in his eyes has dulled into something worse than disinterest. he doesn’t kiss her the same, doesn’t touch her like he used to. the golden glint of lust she once saw in his gaze is now replaced by dull apathy. 

but not tonight. tonight, she’s going to fix that.

she has gotten herself a ridiculous little dress, so charming and frilly that it would drive any boy insane. a costume meant for a twelve-year-old, that should stretch over her curves and frame her just so. a skirt that's more like a belt made of little ruffles, barely brushing the tops of her thighs. puffed sleeves, and a corset cinched tight enough to steal her breath—she doesn’t care. she’s pulling the hunger back into her boyfriend's eyes.

the cheap red costume lays across the tub, a mess of fabric that’ll turn her into something untouchable. a gift for him, draped in lace and bows. she shrugs off her bathrobe, careful to close the door but leaving the curtains wide open. why bother? what harm could come from the empty wilds?

in a deep red bra and panties that cling like fresh blood to bare skin, the fabric is thin, barely there, a gauze that the cool night air slices through. the chill raises goosebumps, and her nipples harden beneath the lace, two sharp peaks straining against the sheer veil.

somewhere in the woods, the wolf is watching. 

she notices her own reflection and pauses, taking in how her body looks under the dim light. the slight tremble of her chest, the rosy peaks beneath the lace. her breath catches in her throat as she runs a hand over her stomach, feeling the curve of her waist. 

somewhere in the woods, the wolf starts salivating.

she has drowned in self-loathing lately. the boy she loves has been treating her like she’s nothing. she’s felt like nothing. but tonight —must be the witches, the spirits and the ghosts— she feels pretty.

the wolf thinks she’s pretty too. he has spotted a tender, plump mouthful, and hunger is curling in his belly. he can’t hold back anymore, and his howl cuts through the silence—sharp, hollow, vicious. and the wolfsong is a warning. the sound of death by the window.

she freezes. a chill creeps down her spine, not from the cold, but from something primal. she holds her breath, listening. and then she hears it—a soft, distant inhale. a wet and heavy breathing. not hers. human, but not quite.

her head snaps toward the window, eyes wide. there, in the darkness, something moves. no, someone moves. two glowing yellow lights. embers, burning. they don’t blink. they just… watch.

she pulls the drapes shut, heart racing, forcing a grin. halloween, she thinks. just some asshole playing a prank. a cheap, silly trick.

somewhere in the woods, the wolf smiles.

just as little red riding hood entered the wood, a wolf met her. little red riding hood did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.

"just go from streetlight to streetlight," she tells herself. 

focus. one light. two. a quick breath of safety before plunging into the next stretch of black. the cold night air curls around her, prickling her skin like needles.

her little red heels click against the uneven pavement, the sound echoing in the stillness. for a moment, she feels that gnawing, unshakable sense that she's not alone. but she shrugs it off, laughs under her breath, calling it paranoia.

the road ahead glimmers beneath a blanket of fallen leaves, slick and shimmering in the muted glow. on either side, the dense, impenetrable forest looms—a thick monster of dark green and black, framing her path to the party.

above, the moon, full and obscene, watches her like a voyeur. all still. all quiet.

except, that is, for the rustling of leaves beneath the predator’s steps. the wolf moves with ease, slipping behind her unnoticed, eyes on her legs as they sway, hungry. 

this is his territory. she just doesn’t know it yet.

tucked inside her little basket—a cute part of the costume she’s rebranded as a purse,—there’s a small pocket knife. mom’s voice echoes in her head: “you never know what's lurking out there, darling.”

however, no amount of steel could cut through the one rule. the rule older than the trees that lined this cursed path. in the history of women walking alone at night—never, ever make eye contact.

so when she sees the shadow up ahead—thin, crooked, leaning against a lamppost with a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips—her heart does what it must. it kicks into overdrive.

head up. eyes forward. don’t let him know you're aware of his existence. her fingers tighten around the basket’s handle, knuckles turning white. it’s fine, she lies to herself. just keep walking.

one meter.

he tilts his head slightly, tracking her as she nears, but doesn’t move. her heels click louder now, faster, echoing hollow.

two meters.

close enough to smell the smoke curling from his cigarette. her skin crawls, but she doesn’t falter. just a few more steps and he’ll be behind her, another shadow, another forgotten threat. she feels a sudden, punctuating cold down her neck, but she barely pays attention to it.

three meters.

she passes him, breath held, heart pounding. it's done, she's safe. her fear was stupid, it always is. then it happens—a hand, cold and solid, lands on her shoulder.

her stomach drops. she spins, ready to scream or run, but the words die on her lips when she sees him.

a beautiful boy, just—beautiful.

dark, untamed. his hair’s a mess, falling over his forehead, deep brown eyes glowing like embers. flannel over a ragged band tee, the faint scent of smoke and damp leaves hangs around him.

“you dropped this.” his voice is low, nearly a growl, as he holds out her little red hood. it must’ve fallen when she rushed past.

“o-oh.” she stammers, half breathless, “thanks. i didn’t even realize.”

as she takes it from him, his gaze lingers for too long, making her hyper-aware of the way the dress clings to her body.

“pretty…” he says, the word half-whispered. a slight and wicked smirk touches his lips, like he knows he can degrade the costume and the girl beneath with just a single look.

a shiver races down her spine, but she forces a smile. “t-thanks.”

his eyes drag up and down her body, slow, making sure she notices. heat blooms in her neck, unbidden, and she tells herself—this dress is for taehyun, not for some stranger who smells like rain-soaked earth and cigarettes. and yet, when he bites his lip, something flutters low in her stomach—dangerous, thrilling.

“little late to be walking around dressed like that, don’t you think?” he sneers, and scorn flickers in his eyes. but the humiliation sends a shiver through her, one she doesn’t quite hate. “you headed to the party?”

“obviously,” she shoots back, spreading her arms, letting him take in the dress—though he’s already noticed, definitely. still, she’s relieved. he knows about the party, and suddenly he feels closer, more familiar. not quite a stranger anymore. “you?”

“yeah,” he shrugs, casual, like it’s nothing. “not really big on parties, though. i prefer the quiet.” his voice dips, eyes lingering on her. “but you gotta socialize… or you get lonely.”

“right.” she quirks a smirk, finally letting herself look him up and down. “but it’s a costume party, you know.”

“oh, i’m in costume. i’m just subtle,” he says, grin spreading wider, darker. “wanna see?”

against her better judgment—against every instinct screaming at her to walk away—she nods. his smirk deepens. he lifts his lip, just enough for a single sharp fang to catch in the dim light.

she laughs, half-relieved. “that barely counts as a costume.”

“oh, but it counts,” he says.

“fine. so, what are you supposed to be?”

he leans in just a little closer, his words coiling around her like smoke. “that’s the game, pet. you have to guess. guess right, and you win something. guess wrong...” his smile widens. “well, i get something.”

naive and pathetically charmed by the boy, she raises an eyebrow. “what do i get?”

he leans back, pretending to think, though his eyes never leave hers. "i mean... i'm a stranger in the woods. you get to walk away... unharmed."

poor thing, she rolls her eyes like he was joking. "and if i don't guess right," she speaks, her voice softer now. "what do you want?"

"a kiss."

her heart stumbles. she'd give it to him, gladly. hell, she'd guess wrong just to get their lips together. but... “i'm really sorry i…” she stammers, smile faltering, “i have a boyfriend.” 

and though he doesn't seem fazed, his expression shifts. subtle, but unmistakable. his eyes darken, the playful charm fading away. “you shouldn’t go around teasing strangers when you're all alone like this,” he says softly, “might find yourself in trouble.”

she swallows hard, "i– i'm so sorry, i wasn't trying to—" 

“it’s whatever,” he says, stepping back into the shadows, his voice a low warning. “go to your boyfriend, little red. but be careful. there are wolves out here. and not all of them are as friendly as me.” he pauses, a smirk twisting his lips. “name’s beomgyu, by the way.”

and so little red riding hood wanders on, oblivious to the truth: wolves wear many skins, each one crafted to prey on vanity, on longing, on the hollow spaces left unguarded.

they slip through shapes, feeding on weakness and hunger. but it’s in the glow of those predatory eyes that you recognize him. the unmistakable trace of his essence, the constant lurking in every form.

the wolf is as cunning as he is ferocious; once he’s had a taste of flesh then nothing else will do.

the halloween party is but a yearly excuse for yeonjun to show off how filthily rich he is and make a joke out of it. as if by opening the doors of his mansion to the rest of the mortals he lets them in on the punchline. a spectacle for the sake of being one. a big parody of himself. 

and tonight, he’s dressed as gatsby, because of course he is. the slick white suit shimmers under the bruised purple lights, like a spotlight trailing him—and it might as well be, because yeonjun is the spotlight, soaking in every second of it. 

he carries a champagne glass permanently attached to his hand, always swirling just enough liquid to keep things classy but not sober. every grin he flashes feels rehearsed, and he keeps crooning “old sport!" at anyone close enough to hear.

he's a cartoon. a well-dressed, charming caricature of wealth and tragedy, and everyone in the room knows it. and they love it. and he loves it more than anyone.

the music thumps through the house like a pulse, vibrating underfoot and inside ribcages. it’s too fast, too loud, forcing everyone to keep moving or else be swallowed up by the noise. by the chaos. bodies blend together, creating a messy tangle of limbs and sweat, grinding and swaying under the flickering strobe lights.

a chandelier overhead swings crooked, crystals throwing fractured light around, mimicking a starry sky in a thousand different colors. it's gaudy, too big for the room, and yet perfect for yeonjun’s vision. a crown fit for the king of excess. 

she sits on the edge of it all, watching. just watching. taehyun’s next to her, but he might as well be miles away.

his eyes are glued to yeonjun who leans in close, whispering something in his ear, pointing out random people in the room. every now and then, taehyun’s lips twitch into a smirk as he scans the room like he’s calculating everyone's worth, everyone’s weaknesses.

he hasn’t looked at her once. she could have been invisible.

the bitterness stings, but she pushes it down. instead, she reaches out, her fingers grazing his arm, trying to pull him back to her, even if just for a second. “hey… you wanna get out of here? somewhere quieter?”

taehyun doesn’t react at first, not even a flicker of recognition in his eyes. he’s in his own world, lost in whatever game yeonjun’s playing. 

dressed as a medieval knight, his armor shines under the lights, making him look even more untouchable. when he finally speaks, it’s almost an afterthought. “yeah, yeah. in a bit.” his words are hollow, thrown over his shoulder like loose change. “just… give us a second.”

and before she can process it, yeonjun’s turning toward them with that same cruel smile he’s been flashing all night. “god, you’re clingy,” he says, “can’t handle not being the center of attention for, what, five minutes?”

her stomach twists, heat flooding her face. “i wasn’t—” she starts, but her soft spoken words quickly fall short.

“it’s fine,” taehyun cuts in, still not looking at her, “just… chill, okay? we’ll leave soon.”

it feels like a slap. not hard, not violent. just… cold. her chest tightens. and it’s so clear now—he doesn’t care. he’s tolerating her, only and barely. her fingers clench into fists on her lap. she swallows hard, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill over.

"i’m… i’m going to the bathroom," she says, voice barely audible over the pounding music. but it doesn’t matter. taehyun doesn’t hear her. 

she drifts through the crowd like smoke, unseen, slipping between the life and color all around her, barely there.

she finds her way out to the porch, cold air cutting into her skin, sharp as the bitter edge of disappointment still lingering in her chest. she hugs her arms, the night heavy and indifferent, pressing in on her as if to make her smaller.

yeonjun’s yard sprawls below, made-up like a graveyard—plastic tombstones lurch from the soil, skeletons claw out of dirt, grinning skulls leer up at her from the fog.

her breath puffs into the night, fading just as she feels she has, every inch of her dressed up for someone who never even noticed. ridiculous fucking slut.

but then, the air thickens, a chill going down her spine. she senses him before she sees him. a crackle in the dark, the slow burn of a cigarette lighting up.

“you look… sad, little red,” barely a purr. low, smooth, a murmur from the dark that curls around her like a trap.

she startles, spinning, heart slamming up to her throat. it’s him. beomgyu. the boy from the woods.

he's lounging against a stone grave, cigarette dangling from his fingers. his face is a smirk made of shadow, his eyes glinting, almost like he’s playing at something, watching her to see if she’ll play along.

“why aren’t you inside?” she asks.

“i told you," he says, snuffing out the cigarette against the stone, his gaze never leaving her face. "i like the quiet. besides...” his smirk stretches, razor-sharp. “can’t say i’m exactly welcome in there.”

then he stands. he steps closer. that lazy, stalking pace that narrows the distance between them, each footfall a reminder of who’s in control. the night presses her back against the railing.

“you’ll freeze out here, pet,” he says, words tipped with a cruel sort of sweetness.

he’s looking at her the way a wolf might look at a lamb. like he could devour her whole, and god help her, a spark of thrill runs down her spine, sharp as a nail.

she stares, heart skittering in her chest, searching his face for something human—but his eyes are restless, ravenous. and yet they see her, see through her. why couldn’t taehyun ever look at her like that? why couldn’t he see her like beomgyu did?

“i… i want to take that bet.” she asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

his eyes spark, the faintest flicker, and she feels like she’s opened a door she can’t close. he leans in, his smirk curling wider. “what about the boyfriend?”

she holds his gaze, refuses to look away, “the boyfriend doesn't give a fuck about me.”

one of his hands is already sliding around her waist like a snake coiling around prey. the other lifts to the neckline of her dress, fingers sliding up to tug gently at the red ribbon there, toying with it.

“then guess, little red,” he murmurs, lips curling into a pout that pretends innocence, “what am i?”

and from the bottom of her being, she knows what he is. but she doesn’t dare put it into words. she decides to guess wrong.

“a kitten, maybe?” her voice comes out playful, teasing, such a pretty little fool, “with those cute fangs?”

he laughs, sharp and cocky, and she watches his tongue glide over his canines. “wrong,” he murmurs, leaning down, his grin widening. “you owe me something now, don't you?”

she smiles, heart racing as she tiptoes to reach him and his arm tightens around her waist, providing a steady anchor. her lips brush his just barely, the peck of a little bunny.

but he’s already got her, pulling her in harder, his mouth a claim, his kiss a taking. his lips are cold, but the kiss is hot, burning. his jaw tightens and loosens wide and heavy, lips pressing against hers with a force that feels like he's taking something from her—something she didn't agree to give.

she allows him to do as he pleases, giving herself to him like she's under a spell. she clings to his frame, hands gripping his shoulders, body caught up in the press of him.

her breath becomes shallow, her mind a blur. his touch, his heat, too much all at once, too intense, too—

she dares to open her eyes. just to look at him. just for a second.

and she's terrified to discover that his once brown gaze is now molten, liquid yellow, something feral staring back at her. her pulse jumps, fear clawing its way up.

she pulls back, gasping, but he’s already there, leaning in again, his mouth hovering like he wants to bite, to consume. she raises her hands, warding him off. “i… i think i should go back inside.”

"why?" he purrs, and his breath impatient and almost manic against her cheek. "scared, little red?"

her throat tightens, "i don’t really… know you, and…" she tries to step away, but his hands close around her waist like iron. trapping her.

"you don’t need to." his fingers dig into her, reminding her that her body is his to command. he draws her close, “let’s play one last game, pet. just one. what do you say?”

“what… kind of game?” she asks.

and just like that he lets go. he steps back. a twisted offering of freedom she knows can't be trusted.

“we race,” he says, voice low, almost playful. “you run. back to your house. if you make it—” his eyes gleam, hungry “—i leave you alone.”

“and if i don’t?”

beomgyu never replies. he stays silent, shadows pooling in his amber eyes.

the full moon hangs ivory, casting a ghostly glare across his face. he glances up at it, bathing in it's glow like it's medicine. then his gaze drifts back to her, that twisted, merciless smile twisting his face.

and he just starts counting down.

ten... nine... eight...

she doesn't wait for seven.

she bolts. she flies down the steps, heart pounding, her feet barely grazing the ground as she breaks into the night. gravel scrapes beneath her heels.

six.

she ditches her shoes mid-sprint, stumbling onto the cold, wet ground. the fake cemetery looms around her, fog twisting between the tombstones as adrenaline pushes her forward.

five.

the sound of him shifts, something subtle at first—a dark, guttural growl building low in his throat. her heart stutters. it’s happening.

four.

a crackle of bone, a sickening pop, a snarl splitting the quiet night. something breaking, reshaping. she hears his breath deepen, his bones stretching, snapping.

three.

a howl cuts through the night, piercing, shuddering through her bones, her skin, her soul. the sound belongs to something that is no longer human.

two.

she dares to glance over her shoulder, just once, and what she sees makes her blood run cold. a massive, shadowed figure, fur gleaming silver under the moonlight, teeth bared in a snarl that sends ice through her veins.

his eyes, the same molten yellow as before, are locked on her, brimming with a hunger that borders on savage.

she never hears the one. she just runs and runs, as fast as she can. but the wolf is faster.

carnivore incarnate, only immaculate flesh appeases him.

the trees claw at the sky. gnarled limbs jutted out, crooked talons waiting to snatch her, tear her apart, make her one with the dark.

she doesn’t run but hurtles through the blackness, branches snapping beneath her feet like brittle bones. the forest isn't just there anymore—it's aware, watching her, toying with her. she can’t stop. can’t even breathe. 

he's after her. and he's close.

“guess right, and you get to walk away unharmed.” how she regrets what she's done. she should've guessed right. should've kept her life instead of trading it for a kiss. stupid mistake. stupid choice by a foolish girl.

but just when she's about to give up she sees—between the curtain of twisted trees, the faintest flicker of light. her house. it's almost a visual illusion. something so desired it seems unreal. so near. almost there. her heart skips with hope.

she never makes it.

something cold as death clamps around her wrist, yanking her back. her body slams against a thick, gnarled oak tree, the bark biting into her back. it’s like the forest itself is starving for her, clawing at her, pulling her deeper into its hunger.

she feels red-hot, searing pain. then the wet warmth of his breath on her face. human again, if you can even call him that. all ragged, scraped and scratched. but human.

"run, run, run," he purrs, voice slick with amusement, "did you really think you could get away?"

it was never about catching her—it was always about the chase. the thrill of letting her think she could escape, just to tear that illusion apart in the final, hopeless moment.

she’s not escaping. not now. not ever.

"little red," he says with a sultry pout, his index finger tracing her jawline, “you seem so scared…”

“w-what are you going to do to me?” she asks.

she tries to wrestle, always avoiding his eyes. but each movement affects her physically, making her more aware of his body against hers, of his hands upon her.

he lowers himself, bringing his face close to her neck and breathes her in. his nose grazes her skin in a barely-there caress that makes her insides tighten. he nuzzles his head against her throat, his body stirring as if comforted by the scent. 

“you smell even better up close,” he says, his lips parting as they hover over her neck. he lets his tongue brush her skin, savoring the faint saltiness. “taste even better than i imagined."

he sends a shiver through her, a crackling thrill that races under her skin. her heart beats so swiftly that she feels as though this were the moment she had expected for years. she almost stands up on her toes to hear the rest of his words.

"you’re so beautiful, little red.” he continues. “boyfriend never noticed, but i did. i’ve been waiting for this… for so long.”

and she knows it's true. she would’ve known even if he hadn’t said a word—could’ve felt it in the way his arms cage her against the rough bark of that oak, the trembling eagerness in his body. 

he wants her, not gently, but raw and feral. and when she meets his gaze, those amber eyes glowing in the half-light, starvation licking at the edges, she feels something inside her shift. the want for this monster—this creature with fire burning in his stare, diabolically phosphorescent.

in quiet awe, she says, “what big eyes you have.”

“all the better to see you with.”

he does see her. exactly how she wants to be seen. and she wants to let him see more.

she pulls off her scarlet shawl—a flash of poppies, the bloody bloom of sacrifice. and since fear is of no use to her now, she sheds it like old skin, too. next, the blouse—soft, almost apologetic in the way it slides over her head—leaving her breasts bare, kissed by the cold silver of moonlight.

his arms find her without thinking, tight, firm, an embrace that feels like iron bands. in that grip, something stirs inside her, something she hasn't felt in so long it almost frightens her—it’s not just being wanted, but being claimed, protected, as though she belongs to him entirely.

“what big arms you have,” she breathes, her fingers tracing the hard ridges of his bicep, brute strength beneath her palms.

“all the better to hold you with,” he grins, his lips parting just enough for her to catch the white of teeth. the daggers of fangs.

her voice drops to a whisper, “what big teeth you have.”

“all the better to eat you with...”

his words slither out just before his mouth crashes onto hers, devouring. his lips, firm and greedy, drink from her, swallowing her breath, tongue invading with a force that leaves her dizzy.

his hands grip her body with the same ruthless intensity, fingers mauling her flesh like claws, leaving painful bruises blooming under his touch.

his mouth drifts lower, down to her jaw, down to her neck, teeth grazing her skin in teasing bites, until he finds the soft skin of her chest. the hardened, sensitive nipple. he sucks hard enough to leave a bruise. a mark of ownership. meant to hurt. to claim.

his tongue grazes the sensitive peak again, teasing her with the cruelty of it, dragging it out. her breath falters, and before she can choke it back, a broken whimper slips out.

“good girl,” he purrs against her skin, “such a good little pup.”

his hands aren’t far behind. they drift lower, fingers tracing the curve of her body, abandoning her chest like it’s no longer enough. they slide down her sides lingering over her stomach before slipping between her thighs. his fingers brush the garters, barely caressing the lace straps holding them tight against her legs.

“too tight, don’t you think?” his voice is quieter now, almost thoughtful. he traces the garter’s edge again, pressing into the skin where it’s biting in. “let’s see if it left a mark.”

he lifts her skirt, letting her feel every inch of skin being exposed, every second of her body laid bare to his gaze. her leg lifts instinctively, just a small movement, but enough for him to slide the garter down, peeling it away from her thigh.

and there, above the edge of her stocking, her skin gleams, reddened, damaged by the strap. he stares for a second too long, then up at her, asking for permission, knowing very well he has it already.

of course, she lets him.

his fingers skim the inside of her thigh, higher, until they’re at the edge of her panties, toying with the fabric like it’s something fragile. he grins, teasing. and she sees in his eyes, in his invigorated breath, that something violent is coming. 

his fingers press against her cunt, once, cold and firm, right against the damp fabric clinging to her skin. then comes a ruthless slap, quick, and she bites down on her lip hard enough to taste blood. then a second slap, harder, leaving her moaning, and her hips jerking toward him.

without a word, his finger slips past the soaked fabric, and makes its way inside her, slow but firm, pushing through the heat of her skin like he’s sinking into something molten, something desperate.

her back arches hard against him, her head falling onto his shoulder. the surrender comes easily—she doesn’t fight it. she opens for him, lets him push deeper, lets him take.

he stops when he’s knuckle-deep, breath hot against her ear. "you like that, little red?”

her heart slams against her chest, and the wet heat grows, slick and throbbing. she can only nod and let out a pathetic “hmph”. 

she’s already soaked, but the need—the ache—builds with every passing second, with every subtle shift of his breath, his body looming over hers like a shadow.

another finger slips in, just as slow, until he curls them inside her, pressing deep enough that she feels every inch. her entire body trembles, a soft moan slipping from her mouth.

he pulls out his fingers, but only for a second before he plunges them back in, harder this time, deeper. forcing her body to open for him. her breath hitches, and her cunt clenches around him, her walls spasming as he presses further.

“such a tiny little hole…” he says, almost to himself, a wicked grin curling his lips. 

when he withdraws, he drags it out, agonizingly slow, like he wants her to feel every ridge of his knuckles as they pull back. the emptiness is immediate, the loss of him, the loss of that pressure, unbearable. 

he holds his hand up, and her eyes widen. she can see the evidence of her need painted across his skin, shining under the dim light. 

the dampness between her thighs coats his fingers in a thick sheen. it glistens, dripping down toward his palm, the slick strings of her arousal hanging between his fingers. “so fucking wet for me,” he growls, his voice rough, edged with a sharp, dark amusement. “dripping like a little slut.”

his hand moves again, back down, fingers sliding over her trembling cunt, tracing along the wet, swollen folds. when his fingers find her clit, they barely press—just enough to make her shiver, just enough to make her whimper. the wet bud throbs under his touch, every nerve in her body firing at once.

"beomgyu p-please," she whispers, barely recognizing the sound of her own voice.

the grin that spreads across his face is demonic, a depraved satisfaction settling in the lines of his jaw. every second that passes is his to control. in one fluid motion, his hands are at the waistband of his jeans, undoing them with a pull. 

the pants slide down, peeling off like skin, and then he’s free. the hard line of him, thick, swollen, standing rigid in the faint light. it gleams, slick at the tip with precum, and her breath stumbles over itself, catching, holding, as her eyes latch onto the sight. 

his hand wraps around his cock and he strokes himself, the rhythm heavy. his size makes her breath hitch—the way she knows he’s going to stretch her, fill her completely.

the thought of him fucking into her becomes all-consuming. her thighs tremble, and she can feel the clenching heat between her legs, aching, desperate.

he moves corruptly slow, dragging the swollen tip of his cock down, sliding it through the soaked mess of her folds. it’s a tease, the wet heat of her slick coating him, and the pressure of him right there—right at her entrance—makes her head spin.

a moan escapes, soft, helpless, her lips parting as he toys with her, his cock gliding up and down, never giving her enough, always holding back just a little longer.

his eyes lock with hers, and they’re glowing, that eerie golden glow, something unholy in them, “beg for me.” 

“p-please,” she chokes out, the haze of lust clouding every rational thought. “please, beomgyu… i need you. please.”

the second the words spill from her mouth, he moves. he thrusts into her, forcing her open, the thick length of his cock splitting her apart. the stretch is instant, a burn that radiates through her core, and she gasps, her back arching as he fills her. 

the tightness of her cunt clamps around him, a desperate attempt to take him all in, and she can feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein as he pushes deeper, harder, until he’s buried to the hilt, his cock seated deep inside her.

he grips her hips with ruthless strength, his fingers digging into her skin, sure to leave marks, bruises that will linger. he holds her there, buried deep inside her, savoring the way her body shakes, the way her walls flutter around him.

“ah, fuck…” he groans, his voice rough and guttural like he’s barely holding back from wrecking her completely.

a tremble runs through her like a live wire, raw nerves, everything sparking at once. she adjusts to the size of him inside her, body bending, flexing around the thick intrusion. she feels like she's being split open, the sharp line between pleasure and pain blurring until it’s just sensation—hot, pulsing, overwhelming. 

he starts to move, each thrust like a shock to her system. his hips grind into her with almost cruel force, ricocheting pleasure up her spine, waves crashing in her chest. 

"look at you," he growls, voice thick with satisfaction, "taking me so well. fuck, my little pet, keep making those noises for me,”

she whimpers in response as the coil of pleasure in her belly winds tighter, tighter, pulling her in. he slides in and out of her, their bodies tangled, twisting, rolling together. her cries now mount in endless spirals, loud as if he was murdering her. 

beomgyu answers each cry with a deeper thrust, pushing into her harder, his hips slamming against hers with a brutal sound. he’s lost in it, in her, in the need to possess her to annihilation. she belongs to him now, her body molded to fit his touch, pliable under his hands. 

his fingers tangle in her hair, yanking her head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of her neck, and his lips find her there, hot and hungry, biting, sucking, the sharp edge of his teeth sinking into her skin between breathless kisses.

his grip tightens as his thrusts become frantic, erratic, the control slipping from his grasp. “s-so fucking close,” he groans, his voice raw, trembling, every word a struggle against the rising tide of his release.

and with one final, savage thrust, she's the first one to shatter. 

the orgasm crashes into her with a force that steals her breath, her vision blurring, her walls clamping down around him as her climax takes over.

he escapes a low, animalistic sound. a howl that vibrates through her chest. he fucks her through her oversensitivity and his thrusts grow rougher, less controlled, his hips slamming into hers. the obscene slap of their bodies colliding fills the air, the noise of flesh on flesh, sweat-slick and raw.

he curses under his breath, his hips stuttering, his cock buried deep inside her as he finally comes, his release spilling into her, thick and hot, filling her completely, warmth flooding through her as her body trembles uncontrollably under the onslaught of pleasure.

beomgyu’s teeth sink deep into her flesh. biting hard enough to leave marks, her skin yielding under his canines, and she whimpers, too far gone to feel the pain, her body burning with pleasure, every nerve on fire, every sensation magnified as the aftershocks ripple through her, wave after wave of white-hot bliss.

his cock twitches inside her, pulsing, pumping more of his release into her, and she sobs, her body shaking as the pleasure rips through her, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. her vision blurs, white-hot flashes behind her eyes, and all she can feel is him—filling her, marking her, owning her.

with a snarl, he finally pulls back, releasing her neck, and a soft moan slips from her lips as his tongue flicks over the small wound he’s left behind, licking away the blood, soothing the sting with gentle kisses. there’s a tenderness to his touch now, strange and foreign after the brutality.

slowly, he shifts his hips, easing his cock out of her, and she whimpers at the sensation, her body so sensitive that every movement reignites the sparks of arousal beneath her skin. she feels him drag against her, the last of his release leaking out of her, warm and thick, a reminder of how thoroughly he’s claimed her.

she lies there, spent, panting, her body soft and malleable under his hands, no longer her own but something broken, something he’s molded, possessed. his slave, his ownership, growing soft under his fingers.

for a moment, everything is still. 

the only sound is their ragged breathing, their chests rising and falling in sync. his body stays pressed against hers, his warmth seeping into her, grounding her in the moment. his lips brush her ear, “you’re mine now, little red. all mine.”

she doesn’t even have the strength to respond. she’s spent, hollowed out, drained of everything, her body limp, barely held together by the weight of him, by the grip of his hands still clutching her as if she might slip away. everything feels far away, like she’s underwater.

the world fades—blurry sounds, dim lights—and then she’s weightless, cradled in his arms as he carries her like something fragile. 

there’s nothing but moonlit quiet and deathly cold in the woods. only the soft fall of his steps, paw prints in the ground. 

and little red sleeps, forever nestled in the arms of the tender wolf.

taglist 𖥧𖤣.𖡼°˖ @beomiracles @yoseicour @fairfootedflekk @bubbly-moon @izzyy-stuff and i know more people asked to be on the general taglist but i'm an idiot and i never kept track so. yeah. sorry. just ask again.

[h8aaz]

❝ seething .ᐟ ❞

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — dean finds out the real reason why you haven't been on a date since the two of you broke up. ۶ৎ

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 — jealousy . angst . ex-bf!dean . fighting (verbal + physical) . confrontation . est. relationship with sam . ۶ৎ

dean winchester had been stalking following you around for years—way beyond your breakup. the split that he had initiated. because he fell out of love with you. because he couldn't commit while holding down the same job you were doing alongside him and his younger brother.

but of course, it was all a lie. he never fell out of love with you, he'd be fucking insane to do that. no, the problem was that he loved you too much. so much that he himself couldn't handle it.

he'd been in love before—but not to this extent.

it was the way his heart physically ached when you were barely a few steps away from him. when he'd practically jump up at the echoes of your voice filling the bunker's empty halls. the silent need to have a hand on you at all times just to remind himself that you were real and you chose him to be with. he'd kiss your skin with a soft tenderness that he'd never shown to another woman before.

he loves you. because he never stopped. even when he scared himself to the point of letting you go. and he continues to live in fear, afraid that you'd find someone else, someone better than him. and he could never allow that.

which is what brings him to yet another bar, watching you slowly nurse a beer in the comfort of a booth across the dimly lit room. he had arrived and sat on a stool about a minute ago, sipping from his own beer bottle while he simply watched. his eyes zeroed in on the way you were absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the sticky dark wood of the table, the beat of the music blaring from the speakers matching your movements.

you were humming along to the lyrics, a sound he had missed so dearly. you'd hum in the mornings while you made him breakfast, always making a healthier meal for sam. you were always so thoughtful and caring. not only looking after him, but his brother, too. and he adored you for it.

but what he didn't adore was the shadow of a man walking up and taking the open spot in front of you, your eyes lighting up when you saw him.

the sight made dean's blood boil. who the fuck was this guy? why were you so excited to see him?

he tried to drown out the chaos that filled the bar, focusing on you and this mystery man. but oh, how he regretted that choice. because the voice he heard, he knew all too well. and he knew the nickname that fell from your lips in the same uncomfortable familiarity.

"sorry i took so long, i was texting dean back."

"aw, it's okay, sammy. no need to apologize."

no. fucking. way.

dean immediately shot out of his seat, grabbing his drink and walking to the other seating areas on his side of the bar, now getting a good head-on view of the two of you. you. his brother. making fucking heart-eyes at each other and giggling at the fact that sam had texted him back about how he was 'gonna keep doing research at the library' and to 'not wait up'.

which was true. dean's phone had vibrated in his pocket mere seconds before sam went back to your booth.

his hearing was now detecting only you and sam's voices, easily blocking out everything and everyone else with no problem.

"he's here, y'know," you took a sip, "dean." you set the bottle back on the table. sam nodded with a sigh, "yeah, i know. he told me he was gonna 'check out the local bar', but i knew he was coming to see you." he replied.

a small grin began to play on your lips, "and that's why you came to see me first?" you teased with a tilt of your head, making him laugh.

"no, baby," he dismissed with a laugh before reaching out for your hand, giving it a light squeeze when you reciprocated the hold. "i came to see you because i love you."

those three words and that stupid petname—oh, it set dean off.

rage quickly filled his veins at the sight of you murmuring the same words back to him, sealing it with a kiss. it was as if his ears had stopped working. the world went quiet except for an irritating buzz in his head. he watched you kiss his brother with the same admiration and excitement that would pool through when you used to kiss him.

sam had held onto your face with his other hand. and you leaned into his touch—nearly melting.

dean couldn't handle this. i mean, how could anyone? his brother was betraying him. you were betraying him. granted, you weren't his anymore. the two of you had every right to do this. but that doesn't make it any less hurtful.

dean felt sick to his stomach, contrasting the butterflies fluttering in yours and sam's. millions of questions ran through his head. the two of you knew he was here, that he'd follow you, but when did you both catch on? well, he wasn't the most subtle about it. he'd lead himself and sam to towns he knew you'd be at—whenever he was sure of it, which was a few times every other month.

but sam? oh, sam knew where you were every. single. time. and he let his own brother fall into a frenzy. all while he was charming you. loving you. just like dean did. hell, he still does.

when did you two even start talking? had the two of you always seen each other romantically? was sam better than him? is this relationship out of spite? or did dean fuck up so badly, that you went to his brother instead?

that was it. it had to be it.

and the guilt and anger began to eat at him.

he turned out of the bar, paying for his unfinished drink beforehand. he made his way to the impala, getting in and driving it across the parking lot to where your car sat. the two of you had intimate moments in his car, but what about you and sam in yours? it was seemingly the only place unless sam snuck all the way to your motel every time.

but god, if that thought didn't kill him. the fact that sam probably got to bend you in the same silly ways he used to, just in the girlier setting of your own vehicle instead of the sweaty-skin-sticking-to-leather of his own.

dean's mind was spinning. he just couldn't believe it. you and sam? after everything between you and himself? and the very messy, very loud breakup in the bunker—that sam had to deescalate from how terrible it was. had he been plotting since then? seeing how horrible his older brother treated you during it, and vowing to be a better man for you?

he scoffed at the thoughts that raced his mind.

sure, he yelled. but you were screaming. for good reason, too. a spontaneous breakup on top of recovering from an extremely difficult and brutal hunt? of course you'd be furious. but he was becoming frantic, erratic. his voice booming against the walls of the bunker, leading all the way to sam's room and alerting him immediately.

the taller and younger winchester had nearly broke dean's door off it's hinges just to get inside the room, panic zooming through his veins as you and dean had nearly never fought, especially like this. and sam had to restraint both of you apart from each other in the—incredibly impossible yet still manageable—chance that the verbal brawl could take a turn for the worst. which was a reach, as dean would never in a million years use his hands against you, and you with him. but sam wasn't taking any chances with the heated argument ahead of him.

but on the contrary, dean wasn't afraid to go at it with his little brother. especially with the current circumstances.

so he got out of his car and made his way over to yours, leaning against the back of it with his arms crossed. waiting.

he was waiting for you and sam to walk out of those doors. he wanted to confront both of you—although he knew he should likely leave you be, knowing he won't make this go as smoothly as he's pretending. he just couldn't sit there after what he saw, he had to say something. had to see you. had to cause a scene. had to punch his brother. just something.

the two of you eventually walked out of the bar, holding hands while matching smiles were plasted on your faces. you were still giggling at something sam had said while his smile faltered, slowly dropping completely at the sight of his brother.

you turned your head and immediately dropped all happiness from your face. what the fuck was he doing on your car?

you thought you had said it in your head, but the flare of dean's nostrils and slight panic in sam's eyes showed that you voiced the angry question out through the dense air.

"what the fuck are you doing with my brother?" dean retorted, trying to suppress his bubbling rage. he then turned to sam, his gaze turning into one more of hurt and sadness. "and you. the hell are you thinking, sammy? goin' around with my ex? kissin' her like i did? doin' shit you watched us do together? i thought we said no more lies." his tone got angrier towards the end, his brows furrowing in frustration.

you squeezed your boyfriend's hand, opening your mouth to speak before he cut in, stopping you from cussing out his brother.

"i'm thinking that you need to go back to the motel, get some rest and clear your head. this isn't gonna go well like this." sam spoke softly yet sternly, trying to deescalate the situation yet again before it could get bad. and dean wasn't having it.

"no. no, i won't." dean got off your car and began to walk closer, "because you lied about research. you lied about not talking to her. you lied about not having a girlfriend." he scoffed, "hell, you probably lied about the damn case we're on!" he threw his arms out while you rolled your eyes.

"you don't need to know if sam has a girlfriend or not. especially when you hid me from him for almost two damn years, dean!" you shouted, sam holding you back from charging at the older winchester.

"that was to protect you!" dean pointed a finger. "protect me from what?! sam?!" you scoffed as your boyfriend in question gently rubbed your back. "you weren't trying to protect her from me, dean. you were just scared she'd leave you for me." sam spoke.

and that was the catalyst that sent dean off the edge.

he charged at his brother, sam pushing you out of the way. dean threw a punch, sam dodged it smoothly. sam landed a hit to the side of dean's face, making dean swing back.

you were screaming at them to stop. your voice was cracking, quickly going hoarse from the strain of your vocal chords. you were panicking, and they were trying to kill each other. sounds of attacks being successful, clothes rustling, pained and furious grunts, some blood here and there, and the sheer terror in your tone filled the parking lot.

"sam! sammy!" you wailed, tears spilling down your face. "dean! dean, please!" you pleaded. you ran up to the heaving, fighting winchesters, sweat and blood mixed on their skin. you used all of your strength to pull whoever was on top off the other, the task being difficult as they were now rolling on the ground. you eventually got sam off of dean, a sigh of relief from successfully stopping the flying punches.

"you okay, sammy?" you asked your boyfriend, sucking in a breath through your teeth at the bruise and gash on his face. "m'fine, honey." he huffed, his broad chest puffing up and down in time with his breathing. sam stared at his beaten older brother, trying to get up to fight him more.

"enough, dean!" you held a hand out in his direction. "no," dean spit out some blood as he stood up, "no, this isn't over. you're supposed to be mine! not his!" he gurgled due to the amount of blood coming from his mouth.

"i'm not supposed to be anyone's! yes, at one point i was yours, but now i'm choosing to be sam's. because you're the one that left. you broke up with me, remember? and sam was there for me when i needed you! he helped and took care of me!" your chest heaved, your lungs desperately trying to get air. you let out a sniffle as you stared at your ex-boyfriend, your gaze changing into a soft showing of guilt.

"it's over, de, it's been over for years," you sighed. the nickname fell from your lips as if it had never left, and it shattered both yours and dean's hearts. "i'm sorry. but please just go. let me go. please." you backed up a few steps, your head making contact with sam's chest as he held your shoulders.

dean was shutting down. tears were flowing down his face, mixing with the bloody sweat over his new bruises. all he could do was stare. stare at you with sam. a picture perfect couple—more than you and himself had ever been. his lip quivered as he forced himself into acceptance, giving a simple nod to you both before walking to the impala.

he got in and began to drive away, his vision and mind both completely clouded. you and sam watched as he zoomed by, presumably leaving all the way back to the bunker. you looked up at sam, him down on you. small smiles of regret, sadness, and love made their way onto your faces.

it was over. you two could be happy. well, as happy as you could get with sam losing his brother over you. but you both wanted to forget it, just for a little bit. or until dean calls.

𝘨𝘢𝘣𝘴 𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘴 — saw the gif and felt compelled to write this idk why. but the reader is lowkey me bc if i lost one of them i'd definitely go for the other immediately LMFAO. likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated!! ۶ৎ

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