21. she/her. Desi. Help idk how to customise my dash and all that 😭 I only know how to reblog, like, and comment 😔🫶 Also, a lot of my reblogs are me yearning 😔
THROUGH A RAPIST’S EYES” (PLS TAKE TIME TO READ THIS. It may save a life, It may save your life.)
An Article from Neena Susan Thomas
“Through a rapist’s eyes. A group of rapists and date rapists in prison were interview…ed on what they look for in a potential victim and here are some interesting facts:
1] The first thing men look for in a potential victim is hairstyle. They are most likely to go after a woman with a ponytail, bun! , braid, or other hairstyle that can easily be grabbed. They are also likely to go after a woman with long hair. Women with short hair are not common targets.
2] The second thing men look for is clothing. They will look for women who’s clothing is easy to remove quickly. Many of them carry scissors around to cut clothing.
3] They also look for women using their cell phone, searching through their purse or doing other activities while walking because they are off guard and can be easily overpowered.
4] The number one place women are abducted from / attacked at is grocery store parking lots.
5] Number two is office parking lots/garages.
6] Number three is public restrooms.
7] The thing about these men is that they are looking to grab a woman and quickly move her to a second location where they don’t have to worry about getting caught.
8] If you put up any kind of a fight at all, they get discouraged because it only takes a minute or two for them to realize that going after you isn’t worth it because it will be time-consuming.
9] These men said they would not pick on women who have umbrellas,or other similar objects that can be used from a distance, in their hands.
10] Keys are not a deterrent because you have to get really close to the attacker to use them as a weapon. So, the idea is to convince these guys you’re not worth it.
POINTS THAT WE SHOULD REMEMBER:
1] If someone is following behind you on a street or in a garage or with you in an elevator or stairwell, look them in the face and ask them a question, like what time is it, or make general small talk: can’t believe it is so cold out here, we’re in for a bad winter. Now that you’ve seen their faces and could identify them in a line- up, you lose appeal as a target.
2] If someone is coming toward you, hold out your hands in front of you and yell Stop or Stay back! Most of the rapists this man talked to said they’d leave a woman alone if she yelled or showed that she would not be afraid to fight back. Again, they are looking for an EASY target.
3] If you carry pepper spray (this instructor was a huge advocate of it and carries it with him wherever he goes,) yelling I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY and holding it out will be a deterrent.
4] If someone grabs you, you can’t beat them with strength but you can do it by outsmarting them. If you are grabbed around the waist from behind, pinch the attacker either under the arm between the elbow and armpit or in the upper inner thigh – HARD. One woman in a class this guy taught told him she used the underarm pinch on a guy who was trying to date rape her and was so upset she broke through the skin and tore out muscle strands the guy needed stitches. Try pinching yourself in those places as hard as you can stand it; it really hurts.
5] After the initial hit, always go for the groin. I know from a particularly unfortunate experience that if you slap a guy’s parts it is extremely painful. You might think that you’ll anger the guy and make him want to hurt you more, but the thing these rapists told our instructor is that they want a woman who will not cause him a lot of trouble. Start causing trouble, and he’s out of there.
6] When the guy puts his hands up to you, grab his first two fingers and bend them back as far as possible with as much pressure pushing down on them as possible. The instructor did it to me without using much pressure, and I ended up on my knees and both knuckles cracked audibly.
7] Of course the things we always hear still apply. Always be aware of your surroundings, take someone with you if you can and if you see any odd behavior, don’t dismiss it, go with your instincts. You may feel little silly at the time, but you’d feel much worse if the guy really was trouble.
FINALLY, PLEASE REMEMBER THESE AS WELL ….
1. Tip from Tae Kwon Do: The elbow is the strongest point on your body. If you are close enough to use it, do it.
2. Learned this from a tourist guide to New Orleans : if a robber asks for your wallet and/or purse, DO NOT HAND IT TO HIM. Toss it away from you…. chances are that he is more interested in your wallet and/or purse than you and he will go for the wallet/purse. RUN LIKE MAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!
3. If you are ever thrown into the trunk of a car: Kick out the back tail lights and stick your arm out the hole and start waving like crazy. The driver won’t see you but everybody else will. This has saved lives.
4. Women have a tendency to get into their cars after shopping,eating, working, etc., and just sit (doing their checkbook, or making a list, etc. DON’T DO THIS! The predator will be watching you, and this is the perfect opportunity for him to get in on the passenger side,put a gun to your head, and tell you where to go. AS SOON AS YOU CLOSE the DOORS , LEAVE.
5. A few notes about getting into your car in a parking lot, or parking garage:
a. Be aware: look around your car as someone may be hiding at the passenger side , peek into your car, inside the passenger side floor, and in the back seat. ( DO THIS TOO BEFORE RIDING A TAXI CAB) .
b. If you are parked next to a big van, enter your car from the passenger door. Most serial killers attack their victims by pulling them into their vans while the women are attempting to get into their cars.
c. Look at the car parked on the driver’s side of your vehicle, and the passenger side. If a male is sitting alone in the seat nearest your car, you may want to walk back into the mall, or work, and get a guard/policeman to walk you back out. IT IS ALWAYS BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY. (And better paranoid than dead.)
6. ALWAYS take the elevator instead of the stairs. (Stairwells are horrible places to be alone and the perfect crime spot).
7. If the predator has a gun and you are not under his control, ALWAYS RUN! The predator will only hit you (a running target) 4 in 100 times; And even then, it most likely WILL NOT be a vital organ. RUN!
8. As women, we are always trying to be sympathetic: STOP IT! It may get you raped, or killed. Ted Bundy, the serial killer, was a good-looking, well educated man, who ALWAYS played on the sympathies of unsuspecting women. He walked with a cane, or a limp, and often asked “for help” into his vehicle or with his vehicle, which is when he abducted his next victim.
Send this to any woman you know that may need to be reminded that the world we live in has a lot of crazies in it and it’s better safe than sorry.
If u have compassion reblog this post.
‘Helping hands are better than Praying Lips’ – give us your helping hand.
REBLOG THIS AND LET EVERY GIRL KNOW
AT LEAST PEOPLE WILL KNOW WHATS GOING ON IN THIS WORLD.
So please reblog this….Your one reblog can Help to spread this information.
Reader taking care of Sammy while he’s all drunk and smiley!!! Trying (tragically) to aid him in carrying himself home, Dean on his other side making fun of him lovingly. He’s a happy drunk :) Maybe Sammy professes his favourite things about the reader while he’s out of his head. He’s touchy and nuzzling reader and nuzzling Dean. Maybe even gets emotional and screws together his pretty brows waxing lyrical about the two of them. The two most special people in his life. The only two people allowed to call him Sammy.
Love u!!! <3
𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮
pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!reader
Summary: Sam gets very drunk and turns into a complete sap.
An: hiya!! This was a bit of a complicated write for me, mostly because it’s hard for me to imagine Sam drunk, and if he was to get drunk I think he’d be more of like a sad, self loathing drunk, however, this was so cute to write!! I do love a drunk Sam fic I can’t lie. I hope you enjoy it anon!!
WC: 1.3k - Sam Masterlist
You hadn't meant to let Sam get as drunk as he did. In fact you hadn't meant to let Sam get drunk at all, this was all deans doing. Encouraging him to 'let loose and drink to your hearts content' his words exactly.
Now here you are attempting to get Sam back to the motel without him and the concrete becoming acquaintances, it sounds easier than it is, seeing as he's 6'4 and two hundred pounds of pure muscle and denim, and apparently very sappy.
“Come on Sammy, work with us here" you groaned, trying to hold him steady. "what?! M'doin my best" he argued back, though he was absolutely not doing his best.
"Dean" you groaned. Dean laughed "Alright I got him" he pulls Sam by the sleeve of his Carhartt, taking the weight off of you. "Thank you" you muttered.
You fix your crumpled shirt, and glance over at Sam, he's smiling at you. Your lips curl up in amusement at his dopey smile.
"Aw look at him" Dean teases "he's got the starry eyes" he continues his steady stride as if Sam isn't completely relying on him for stability.
Sam snorts "I'm not 'starry eyed' Dean. I just… love you guys" he says
You and Dean share shocked glances, extremely caught off guard by Sam's sudden admission. Dean pats Sam on his back "yeah he's out of it" he mutters failing to hide how good it felt to hear those words from his brother.
A familiar flutter settled deep within you, one only caused by the drunken man, you smiled up at him "we love you too Sammy" you tell him, lifting his arm to wrap around your shoulder. He absentmindedly tugs you closer.
"Y'guys are the most importantly people in m'life" Sam continues, trying to keep his legs from giving out beneath him.
It's been about six years since you joined the brothers, most of that time you spent crushing on the younger Winchester so hearing those words from him made something light stir within you.
"alright big guy, don't say anything you're gonna regret in the morning" he says as if Sam's words hadn't made his night.
You smile at the small interaction while trying to hold Sam steady, sam sighs dramatically "no you don't get it, like you guys are so-" he looks at you his face blanks as if something occurred to him. He takes a breath "gosh you're beautiful." He says.
The sudden complement takes you off gaurd "I-" you laugh "thank you, sammy. You're beautiful too."
he trips over a crack in the ground and falls, bringing you down with him, somehow still sober enough to semi break your fall before you hit the ground.
He groaned in pain, and you gasped after the short lived shock wore off, rolling him over to face towards you. You looked over him for any injuries, meanwhile Dean had broken out laughing "oh classic!” He claps “that was classic, Sammy"
You stood up, dusting off your knees. You hit Dean "stop laughing, this is your fault. Help me get him up!" You demanded.
Sam watched you, pouting at his brother’s laughter. You and Dean pulled him up off of the ground. But he moves away from Dean, and leans completely into you.
Dean gives him a betrayed kind of look and you shake your head in amusement. "And she takes care f'me."
Dean stops in front of you and Sam "so what are you saying you like her more than me?" Dean teases, but Sam in this state can't really tell.
"What?!" He says " no, I just love how nice she is, and that I can always talk to her. Oh and that she doesn't leave us." He trailed off "You won't leave right?" He suddenly asks you.
You smile "not if I can help it"
Sam nods, pleased by your answer "She keeps us together, and makes sure we're healthy. Makes us take a break when where driving ourselves crazy" he continues.
Dean raises an eyebrow "wow Sammy, tell us how you really feel"
Sam scoffs "I am Dean, are you listening? Oh! Maybe I'm too high up for him to hear, should I lean down?" Sam asks you, you laugh out loud "you should absolutely lean down"
Dean groans in irritation as the three of you approach their room. You unlocked the door, opening it wide enough to let Sam stumble in, behind him a very amused and ecstatic Dean.
Sam flops down on the bed, a complete, uncoordinated mess of a man.
You rolled your eyes lovingly, "dean watch Sam, I'm gonna get some meds from my room. Don't let him break a bone or anything" you point at the oldest Winchester warningly.
He holds up his hands defensively "hey I am a great caretaker"
Sam lifts his head up "you're leaving?" He asks, quieter than usual. You can hear the disappointment in his voice and it almost shatters your heart "just for a moment, I need to get you meds so you don't wake up with a kick drum pounding in your head"
Sam pouts, eyebrows knitting together like it's paining him. You sigh, closing the door "okay, I'll get it later. But at least drink some water."
Sam sighs "no, I just want you two to sit here with me. We never get to do that anymore… just hang out." He turns over onto his back.
You raise your eyebrows, glancing at Dean who gave you a shrug. "Yeah. Okay we can just sit and hang out then." You move towards the bed, taking a seat beside Sam.
You gasp when he catches you by surprise, putting his head in your lap.
"Y'guys are the most importantly people in m'life" Sam repeats, his eyes staring right up at you.
You look over to Dean who has a light in his eyes that you haven't seen in a long time, he smiles, patting Sam's leg lightly "remind me to never encourage him to over drink again" he says as if Sam's words hadn't made his night.
You smile at the small interaction while trying not to look him in the eye, sam sighs dramatically "you're beautiful." He says, staring at you, from an angle you were sure wasn't as appealing as he made it seem.
Your face heats "you said that already."
Sam rolls his eyes, dismissing what you said. "and I love when you laugh, makes my whole day. Or when you finally figure out something after hours of research, y'get so excited."
His words make your brain falter, these new admissions were coming hard and hitting you like punches. The possibility of you meaning more to Sam than just a friend.
"I'm starting to feel a little left out here" Dean says from his chair, his arms folded over his chest, but you didn't miss the fond look he wore.
Sam shook his head tiredly, his eyes drooping slightly, showing clear signs of exhaustion. "You're my brother Dean, we fight, we hide stuff, but in the end it doesn't matter. It's just what we do. But I couldn't do this without you. Hunting I mean. Need you by my side, no matter what." Sam's voice trails off, as sleep envelopes him slowly.
Your heart clenched, you looked at Dean, there were tears in his eyes as he peered down at his little brother, the one he raised damn near all alone. His eyes met yours, and his body stiffened, he cleared his throat as he stood from his chair, excusing himself to the bathroom.
You smiled faintly as the bathroom door shut. Looking back down at Sam, now completely asleep, you resisted the urge to pull him tight into your arms.
Because underneath all of that hardened exterior, behind the brick walls he had built up, he was still only a man, only a human. Despite all that has happened to him, all he was destined to be, he still remained soft and allowed himself to feel. For you, for Dean, and everyone else he's lost.
You wiped away tears that traveled down the slopes of your face before they fell onto his, not wanting to interrupt his peaceful, vodka induced slumber.
You leaned down and kissed his forehead gently. "Goodnight Sammy"
There is a very specific, highly entertaining phenomenon that occurs whenever you take your husband out in public. You like to call it the “Terror and Thirst” effect.
Today, at the crowded public beach, it is in full swing.
You are currently lounging under the massive shade of a navy blue beach umbrella, a trashy romance novel resting on your lap, watching the spectacle unfold at the shoreline.
Ryomen Sukuna is, objectively, a masterpiece of a man. Standing at a towering 6’4”, he is built like a heavyweight champion—broad shoulders, a thick chest, and a torso carved out of solid granite. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, black board shorts that sit dangerously low on his hips, putting the intricate, sprawling black tattoos that cover his chest, arms, and stomach on full, glorious display.
He is hot as fuck. It’s a fact that is currently not lost on the group of college girls sitting on a blanket about twenty yards away. They haven’t stopped staring, whispering behind their hands, and aggressively adjusting their bikini tops for the last half hour.
But here is the catch: Sukuna is also terrifying.
He has this natural, resting aura of absolute disdain for anyone who isn’t you or your son. He’s a snob, plain and simple. He doesn’t smile at strangers, he doesn’t make polite small talk, and if someone stares at him for too long, he gives them a dead-eyed, chilling glare that practically drops the surrounding temperature by ten degrees.
Case in point: one of the girls giggles a little too loudly, pointing in his direction. Sukuna, who is currently standing ankle-deep in the surf, slowly turns his head. He doesn’t say a word. He just narrows his crimson eyes, his face completely blank, and stares her down.
The girl visibly pales, her hand dropping instantly. She quickly turns around, suddenly very interested in the contents of her cooler.
Sukuna lets out a quiet, dismissive scoff, turning his attention back to the water.
“You’re going to give those poor girls a complex, babe,” you call out, unable to hide your amusement.
Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you, and the transformation is instantaneous. The cold, intimidating mask melts away, replaced by an expression so incredibly soft and devoted it makes your chest ache. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a small, fond smile.
“Not my problem that they are annoying,” he says, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the crashing waves. “Besides, I only want one woman looking at me.”
You roll your eyes, though your cheeks heat up. “Smooth, Ryomen. Very smooth.”
“Dada! Splash!”
A tiny, high-pitched voice interrupts the moment. Yuji, currently sporting a pair of tiny black swim trunks that perfectly match his dad’s, is waddling furiously through the shallow water. He’s got a pair of bright orange floaties strapped to his chubby arms, his pink hair plastered to his forehead from the ocean spray.
Sukuna’s attention snaps to his son. He doesn’t say anything, just calmly wades deeper into the water, his massive hands reaching down to scoop the toddler up under the armpits.
“You want to splash, little man?” Sukuna asks quietly, his tone a low, soothing rumble.
“Yeah! Big splash!” Yuji cheers, kicking his little legs.
You watch, completely mesmerized, as your terrifying, snobbish husband hoists your two-year-old high into the air. Sukuna tosses him up—just high enough to make Yuji squeal with delight—and catches him effortlessly, dipping him down so his little toes drag through the water.
It’s a beautiful, chaotic contrast. The giant, tattooed wall of muscle, gently playing in the waves with a giggling, chubby-cheeked toddler.
They play in the water for another twenty minutes. Sukuna is quiet, mostly just listening to Yuji babble about the “big fishes” and the “salty water,” occasionally offering a calm nod or a soft chuckle. He is completely in his element, entirely unbothered by the rest of the world.
Eventually, Sukuna wades out of the water, carrying Yuji on his hip. Water is dripping from Sukuna’s pink hair, running down the hard planes of his chest and tracing the lines of his tattoos. It is a sight that should be illegal.
He walks over to the umbrella, grabbing a towel with his free hand and tossing it over his shoulder. He sets Yuji down on the sand.
“Go to mama, buddy. Let her dry you off,” Sukuna murmurs, running a hand through his wet hair.
But Yuji has other plans.
He shakes himself off like a wet puppy, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. He takes two steps toward you, stops, and then his head snaps to the left.
You follow his gaze. A new group of girls—three of them, looking like they just stepped out of a swimsuit catalog—have set up their chairs near the shoreline.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter, dropping your book. “Not again.”
Yuji’s eyes go wide. He completely ignores you, turning on his heel and marching straight toward the girls. His little chest is puffed out, his arms swinging with an unearned amount of swagger for a kid who still wears pull-ups at night.
“Sukuna,” you warn, pointing at your son. “Stop him.”
Sukuna doesn’t move. He just stands there, drying his chest with the towel, watching Yuji with a quiet, amused smirk. “Why? He’s on a mission.”
“He is two! He is literally a baby!” you hiss, standing up. “Why does he act like a frat boy on spring break?”
“Son't ask me,” Sukuna replies, clearly avoiding your eyes, he took a sip from the bottle of water. He doesn't say it, but you can hear the lingering amusement in his voicd. “Let the boy have fun, babe.”
You groan, watching helplessly as Yuji reaches the girls.
He stops right in front of their beach chairs. He puts his chubby little hands on his hips, tilts his head, and unleashes the weapon: your bright, disarming smile.
“Hi!” Yuji chirps loudly. “I Yuji!”
The girls immediately stop talking. They look down at the tiny, pink-haired toddler, and the collective swoon is almost audible.
“Oh my god, hi!” one of them coos, leaning forward. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing ever?”
“Pweety,” Yuji says, pointing a tiny finger at the girl’s sparkly bikini top. He then flexes his little arm, showing off a completely non-existent bicep. “Look! Strong like dada!”
“I can’t believe this,” you whisper, burying your face in your hands. Sukuna lets out a low, quiet chuckle next to you.
“You are a terrible influence,” you glare at him.
“Babe, I didn’t do anything,” Sukuna says, his voice completely deadpan, though his eyes are dancing with mirth. “I’m just standing here.”
Down by the water, the girls are eating it up. They are giggling, offering Yuji a plastic beach toy, which he graciously accepts. But then, one of the girls looks up. Her eyes scan the beach, looking for the parents, and she spots Sukuna.
You can practically see the cartoon hearts pop out of her eyes.
She stands up, brushing sand off her legs, and walks over to Yuji, taking his little hand. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go find your dad.”
She leads Yuji back toward your umbrella, her eyes locked entirely on Sukuna. She has that look—the look of a woman who thinks she’s about to shoot her shot with a single dad.
“Excuse me,” the girl says, her voice dropping into a sultry purr as she approaches. She completely ignores you, standing right in front of Sukuna. “Is this little guy yours? He wandered over to us.”
Sukuna stops drying his hair. His smilr vanishes, instantly replaced by that cold snobbery. He looks down at the girl, his expression completely blank, his eyes devoid of any warmth.
He doesn’t say a word to her.
Instead, he steps forward, completely invading her personal space with his massive frame, forcing her to take a nervous step back. He reaches down and scoops Yuji up into his arms.
“Dada! Pweety girl!” Yuji babbles, pointing at the woman.
Sukuna looks at the girl for one more second. It’s a look that clearly says, You are entirely beneath my notice.
“Thanks,” Sukuna says. His voice is quiet, but it carries a heavy, chilling finality that makes the girl flinch. “Come here buddy lets go to mama”
He turns his back on her without another word, walking the two steps over to you. The girl stands there for a second, her face flushed bright red with embarrassment, before she quickly turns and scurries back to her friends.
You are trying very hard not to laugh. “You didn’t have to be so mean to her.”
“I wasn’t,” Sukuna scoffs, setting Yuji down on your beach chair. “I just didn’t care to speak to her.”
“She was totally hitting on you.”
Sukuna finally looks at you, and the ice in his eyes melts completely. He steps into your space, his large hands coming up to cup your face. His thumbs gently stroke your cheekbones.
“Whatever,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate register. “I'm married”
Your breath hitches, your heart doing a familiar, stupid little flip in your chest. Even after all these years, he still knows exactly how to render you speechless.
“You’re such a sap,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.
“Only for my wife,” he replies, leaning down to press a slow, deep kiss to your lips. It’s a possessive kiss, one that clearly communicates to anyone watching exactly who he belongs to.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Mama!”
You both look down. Yuji is standing on the beach chair, holding up a slightly crushed, sandy seashell. He shoves it toward you, his big golden eyes shining.
You melt. You absolutely melt. You take the sandy shell, pulling Yuji into a tight hug and kissing his salty, sun-warmed cheek. “Thank you, baby. It’s beautiful.”
Sukuna watches the two of you, his hands resting casually on his hips. “See?” Sukuna says quietly, reaching out to ruffle Yuji’s pink hair. “The kid might have my charm, but he knows the truth.”
At the end of the day, despite the playboy genes and the endless chaos, they were yours. And you were theirs.
And mom was, undeniably, still the best.
an: we're close to 1k what the hekk!!! what one shots do you wanna see next? i can't write smut for the life of me, english is saurrrr hard!! divider by: @pxrce-lain | the art and gif i got from pinterest! feel free to comment who is the orig art creator pls 🙏
Dean comes back from hell, and he even brought a souvenir. Possesed!Dean x fem!reader
MDNI (18+!) nsfw under the cut! C.w: oral (fem!receiving) from a 'demon', Manipulation, shaming, mean!Dean, Ritual/ exorcism
W.c: somewhere near 1.5k (NOT PROOFREAD)
The first thing you notice after Dean comes back from Hell is that he stops touching you.
you try to convince yourself you’re imagining it.
Dean has never been overly affectionate, and after everything he’s been through, it makes sense that he’d need space. But as the days pass, the absence of all the little things you had once taken for granted became impossible to ignore.
Before Hell, Dean touched you constantly without even realizing it. A hand at your lower back while passing behind you in the kitchen. His shoulder brushing yours during long drives in the Impala. Fingers tapping lazily against your knee beneath the library table during late-night research sessions.
Small things.
Comforting things.
Now every time you get too close, Dean stiffens like your touch burns him. And maybe the worst part is that he never explains why.
The bunker changes after he comes back.
Or maybe Dean does.
The silence feels heavier now, stretching through the hallways like something unseen lurks just beyond the edges of the light.
Most nights, you hear him pacing long after everyone else falls asleep. His footsteps echo softly through the concrete halls at impossible hours, followed by cabinet doors opening in the kitchen or water running briefly from the sink.
Sometimes you almost get up to check on him.
But something always stops you.
Maybe it’s the exhausted look in his eyes lately. Or the way he avoids looking at you for too long, as if he’s afraid of what might happen if he does.
One evening, rain rattles softly against the bunker walls while Sam researches at the library table. Dean sits nearby with a beer bottle hanging loosely in his hand, his attention somewhere far away.
That’s when you notice the blood.
It looks like it’s only a few drops staining the neck of the bottle, but when Dean shifts beneath the overhead light, you see his knuckles split open badly enough to leave fresh blood smeared across his fingers.
Your chest tightens immediately.
“Dean,” you say softly as you grab the first aid kit from the counter. “What happened?”
Dean barely glances down at his hand.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
You cross the room before he can stop you, kneeling beside his chair as you reach carefully for his wrist.
But the second your fingers brush his skin, Dean recoils violently.
The chair legs scrape harshly against the floor.
You freeze.
For a second, nobody speaks.
Dean looks horrified by his own reaction, breathing unevenly as his eyes stay fixed on your hand instead of your face. You try asking. “Dean…?”
“Don’t touch me right now.”
The words come out rough and strained, but it isn’t anger you hear in his voice.
It’s fear.
Real fear.
Your stomach twists painfully. “Did I do something wrong?” Dean finally looks at you then, and the expression on his face makes your chest ache.
“No,” he whispers after a long silence. “no-...no"
Then he stands abruptly and walks out of the room, leaving you kneeling beside the untouched first aid kit while the bunker suddenly feels colder than before.
After that, things only get worse.
Three hunters die the following week during what should be a routine case. Technically, Dean protects a kid—a teenage vampire who’s never fed on humans, but the brutality of it still follows you afterward.
You’ve seen Dean angry before. You’ve seen him violent.
This is different.
There’s something terrifyingly calm about the way he moves. One second the hunter aims his gun toward the terrified kid hiding behind you, and the next Dean basically rips the man apart, some blood splattering your cheek while the kids sobs echo through the room.
By the time it’s over, blood covers his knuckles and three bodies lie motionless across the floor.
The drive back happens in complete silence except for the rain hammering against the windshield.
Dean grips the steering wheel so tightly his hands tremble, his jaw clenched hard enough that you can see the muscle ticking beneath his skin every few seconds. Streetlights flash across his face as the Impala cuts through the dark highway, illuminating the exhaustion carved deep into his expression.
You try not to think about the look in his eyes during the fight.
You fail.
Finally, unable to stand the silence anymore, you whisper,
“You scared me tonight.”
Dean’s grip tightens immediately. “Don’t.” His voice sounds exhausted.
“No, Dean, seriously—”
“I said don’t.”
A sharp tension fills the car. Then suddenly Dean swears beneath his breath and jerks the Impala onto the side of the road hard enough to make your seatbelt lock painfully against your chest.
Rain pours around the car while Dean leans forward over the steering wheel, both hands gripping it like he’s trying desperately to hold himself together. But then something shifts in his eyes.
“....your scared of me."
he asks quietly, not- sounding like himself.
Somethings off. The sound of his voice makes your stomach twist.
Because Dean sounds terrified. You've noticed it before. He sounds cold, but sometimes, when you really listen, you can hear him. Dean. Terrified, Like hes trying to come through to you but just cant.
Because something else is in him.
He laughs then, though there’s nothing remotely humorous about the sound. “I can hear it,” he admits.
You stare at him, almost scared. “Hear what?”
For several long seconds he doesn’t answer. Then he finally turns toward you, and the fear in his eyes steals the breath from your lungs.
“Something came back with me from Hell.”
Cold creeps slowly down your spine. Who turned the AC down?
Dean swallows hard before continuing.
“At first I thought ’m losing my mind. But every time you get near me…”
He looks away briefly, shame flickering across his face.
“It starts talking.”
oh.
oh.
Exhaling shakily, you ask- “What does it say?”
Dean’s jaw tightens.
“cant say."
Silence settles heavily between you while rain streaks endlessly across the windows. Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear him, Dean whispers, “It wants you.”
The confession makes your pulse quicken, if its not already racing. Because suddenly everything makes sense—the distance, the sleepless nights, the fear in his eyes whenever you stand too close.
Dean isn’t avoiding you because he stopped caring.
He’s trying to protect you.
The realization follows you long after the conversation ends. Sleep becomes impossible after that.
Every sound inside the bunker makes your pulse jump, and when two in the morning creeps past, you’re still lying awake, staring at the ceiling while shadows shift faintly across your walls.
Then you hear footsteps outside your room.
Slow. Heavy. Uneven.
Dean.
You sit up immediately, swallowing the lump building in your throat. The footsteps stop directly outside your door, and for several long seconds there’s nothing but silence pressing heavily against the room.
Then comes--.... scratching?
Soft at first.
A slow scrape dragging across the wood. In response, your entire body goes rigid. Another scratch follows, lower this time, longer—as though fingernails slowly trace their way down the door.
Fear curls tightly in your stomach.
“Dean?” you call carefully. No answer comes.
Heart pounding, you slip out of bed and cross the room slowly. The scratching stops the moment you reach the door. Then a voice whispers from the other side.
“Don’t open the door.”
Your blood freezes instantly.
Because it sounds exactly like Dean.
And yet there’s something horribly wrong beneath the surface of it, like something wears his voice instead of truly owning it. You stumble backward just as another voice echoes sharply down the hallway.
The door creaks open.
Dean stands in the doorway. He doesn't look like himself. Hes breathing heavily and his eyes look darker than usual.
"i need you."
".....it needs you." His voice drops an octave.
Before you can answer, the thing inside him laughs, the sound making your skin crawl. And with small thuds, dean comes closer and closer. Once hes infront of you, he stares down at you. This isnt him. Not anymore.
"....i've wanted you for so long, y/n-...."
"and now?....i finally have you. Are you going to fight me?"
You swallow, eyes wide as you slowly inch further backwards with every step he comes closer. Well, to your luck, the back of your knees bump against the bedframe.
Trapped.
You feel the urge to punch him, run away, anything. But you dont. You stand still, frozen, feeling his breath fan across your face. You should defend yourself-...But its still your dean standing infront of you.
He slowly, achingly slow, buries his face in the crook of your throat, breathing in your scent.
"....mmm..."
He feels your pulse throb under your skin, and it arouses him to no end. He licks up your throat, before stopping mid-way to your ear.
A gasp.
His teeth sink into your skin. You squirm, obviously pushing him away now, but its no use. Hes like a fuckin' brick wall. His rough hands run up your sides, sucking at your pulse point, you whine in response.
"shhh....you aren't this scared when having sex with dean, so stop shaking and be a good girl,"
You shake your head. "...dean-...please-"
"im not dean, for fucks sake!"
You flinch, silently counting out every option in your head. A demon?...no, theyre usually not like this.
"dean's a weak bitch, he was happy when i possesed him. Even he wanted to give you the chance of having a real man, you just have to surrender, y/n."
You just shake your head, staring dean- or not dean- straight into the eyes.
"what are you?..." You quietly ask.
A pause. He rolls his tongue inside your cheek. His hands trail down, and wrap around the waistband around your pants, before ripping them off. You gasp.
"why dont you just stay quiet?"
He mutters before ripping apart your panties too. Black fabric scatters on the floor.
"gonna be a good fuckin' girl for me-" He coos. "-just like you always are for dean, hm? Always letting him fuck you stupid. But never really stupid. Never fucked braindead. You need it, don't you? Are you going to tell him how you faked that orgasm last week?"
Shame blooms in your chest. How does he know all of this?....how long has he been with dean? You know hes just trying to make you feel bad. A typical manipulating move. And it works. With ease. You should've just told dean you didnt come-
There it is. He made you think about it. Made you feel bad again.
"i can hear your thoughts, baby. Just let me."
Slowly, he lowers himself to his knees, your pussy already dripping for him- what the fuck? This isnt dean- why are you so wet- he only laughs, sinking his fingers into your thighs to make sure you dont even think of running.
"look at thaaat. All nice an' wet already."
Two fingers run through your heat, gathering the wetness on his fingers. Looking up, he sticks the digits into your mouth with force, making you gag. He grins.
"clean em'."
Hesitantely, but left with no choice, you lick your own arousal of his fingers, before they slightly press down on your tongue.
"good girl." He coos.
His lips go to the inside of your thighs, teeth grazing dangerously close to your pretty slit. He breathes in your arousal, eyes closing, and he groans.
"smell so good, y/n....i understand why dean ate you out any chance he had now-...pathetic."
And despite feeling ashamed and disgusted, you still moan when his plump lips wrap around your clit, hips arching slightly towards him.
"stay still, slut."
He hisses against your sensitive pussy, making you exhale shakily. "You're-...fucking evil.."
"your dripping."
"...fair.."
He sticks his tongue out and pushes it inside your tight hole, moaning at the taste of you. Gasping shakily, you'r eyes fall closed. Fuck. You try not to moan, but whatever that thing inside dean is doing? Its doing it well.
And with the rythm of fucking his long tongue into your tight hole, you eventually come all over his face, squirming. It feels like your floating, stars bursting behind your eyelids while your body locks up, bracing against the bedframe. Its hard to stand upright.
"Jesus- fuck!-" he grins.
"just me, baby...good girl- such a good fuckin' girl, coming all over my tongue."
Once you finally come down from the Orgasm, aching hot shame fills you from your toes to your chest, settling there'. You feel like you betrayed dean. I mean- you did, kinda, but once your back on earth, you notice that hes gone quiet.
Glancing down, your heart skips a beat. His eyes arent as dark anymore, and he looks...scared again. Like dean again. Like your dean. He slowly gets up, stumbling back a bit.
"...dean-?.." you ask softly.
".....y/n-....what-...what did i-" He swallows.
"Dean-...it wasnt you-"
"fuck-......fuck- ffuck- im sorry- im so sorry- y/n-"
You step after him but he basically runs out your room, not even being able to look at you. He feels like a monster. Fuck.
Days later, Sam finally finds the answer buried in an old Men of Letters book. At the same time, the thing inside him grows stronger.
The entity attached to Dean isn’t a demon.
It’s older than that—something from Hell that feeds on fear, devotion, arousal and obsession while slowly hollowing out damaged souls from the inside.
And somehow, through Dean, it became attached to you too.
“There’s a ritual,” Sam explains carefully. “But the entity has to fully surface before we can trap it.”
Dean immediately goes pale.
“No.”
“Dean—”
“No."
The force behind the word shakes the room. Only then do you fully understand what terrifies him most.
Not dying.
Not Hell.
Losing control long enough to hurt you. Even if he already did.
Later that night, the abandoned church where the ritual takes place feels freezing cold beneath the storm outside. Rain batters the stained-glass windows while Sam prepares the symbols across the floor.
Dean stands inside the circle silently, his hands trembling at his sides.
“You should stay back,”
he whispers as you approach him.
“No." His expression tightens painfully. “It’s getting harder to tell what’s me and what’s it.” The honesty in his voice nearly destroys you.
Slowly, carefully, you reach for his hand.
Dean inhales sharply the second your fingers touch his, but this time he doesn’t pull away. His hand trembles around yours instead.
Warm. Real. Dean.
“You’re not losing yourself tonight,” you whisper.
Something vulnerable cracks across his expression then, and for the first time in weeks, all the fear fades just enough for you to finally see the truth hiding beneath it.
Love.
Terrified, desperate love. “I don’t know how to survive this if something happens to you,” he admits softly. Your chest aches so badly it almost hurts to breathe.
Then the ritual begins.
Golden symbols flare brightly beneath Dean’s feet while Sam recites the incantation aloud over the thunder outside. At first nothing happens.
Then Dean gasps sharply.
Black veins spread slowly across his throat as his body tenses violently. You take an instinctive step forward, panic rising in your chest.
“Dean—”
“I’m okay,” he chokes out.
But he isn’t.
You see the exact moment the entity surfaces. Dean goes completely still before slowly lifting his head toward you.
And then he smiles.
Cold fear floods your body instantly because the expression isn’t his.
“You love him,” the creature purrs through Dean’s voice. Its words echo unnaturally through the church.
You force yourself not to look away.
“Yes.” Dean flinches violently beneath it. The thing smiles wider.
“And he loves you enough to let me hollow him out.”
“Shut up,” Dean snarls weakly through clenched teeth.
The church shakes around you.
Windows crack.
Sam shouts the final words of the ritual while black smoke erupts violently from Dean’s mouth.
Then silence crashes down all at once. Dean collapses forward, but you catch him before he hits the floor. For one horrible second he doesn’t move at all, and your heart nearly stops.
Then his fingers twitch weakly against your arm. Relief hits so hard it makes your eyes burn. Dean blinks slowly before finally looking up at you, and the moment your eyes meet, you know. The darkness is gone. It’s just Dean again.
His expression softens as he lifts one shaking hand to your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek for the first time in weeks.
“You with me?” you whisper.
Dean’s tired green eyes stay fixed on yours as the ghost of a smile finally touches his lips.
“Yeah,” he whispers softly.
And for the first time since he comes back from Hell—
﹕𝜗𝜚﹕ NOTES ; damn this part is so long compared to usually LMAOOO but it was an important moment sooo it had to be written right 😗 hope yall will enjoy it especially since we’re getting closer to the end with this tbh ahaha, also it wasn’t supposed to be a written part but i’ve decided to make one, it’s pretty short tho but i believe it was important. alsooo i think it’s good to tell that both the heejake and hoon series are in the same timeline now
My favorite genre of spn fanart or fics is when Destiel is being funny and arguing or making out and Sam is slightly off in the distance experiencing unimaginable torture.
ㅤ﹙SMAU﹚ 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ｡ chaotic boyfriend ! enha x fem readerㅤ✶ㅤfluff humour petty arguments terminally online behaviour cursing ㅤ❛ 𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
ㅤ୨୧ㅤㅤ inspired by those stupidly funny “selling my bf” tweets because i KNOW enha would crash out immediately 😭 happy reading & pls do not auction your man online !
(MDNI‼️) Sending freaky picture while they are touring (Maknae Line )
Mention of sex, dih, eating pussy , VERY suggestive content.
Pairing idol!maknae line x freaky reader
Summery: they are on tour and you decides to tease them with freaky pictures and they can’t wait to get their hands on you
Note: I don’t proof read anything so pls understand.
Now playing Gimme More By Britney Spears
|Hyung Line ver. |
A/n: jungwon one last part should say “fuck out of you” but it got cropped out, sorry. And also if you are too sensitive don’t interact w Riki slides pls🧍🏻♀️😭
